The Book of Bad Things (22 page)

In a grassy field located several hundred kilometers north of Stonehenge’s Salisbury Plain, just outside the village of Gingerwich, a druidic stone circle stands: a site that archeologists claim dates back even further than the most famous of British henges by at least a century.

The Gingerwich circle is wider in diameter than Stonehenge by about twelve meters. However, its design is simpler. Originally made of thirteen bluestone monoliths, each weighing at least a ton and standing two to three meters tall, the pieces were arranged in a circular formation with none of the embellishments of its southern neighbor’s inner rings and horseshoe formations.

In the mid-twentieth century, after the discovery of cremated human remains, archeologists theorized that the circle had been created as a burial site and that, several millennia earlier, it had been considered a holy place. Unfortunately, the people who lived in the area in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries were unaware of these burials.

The village of Gingerwich, its houses and barns built originally from locally forested wood, had existed for centuries near the monoliths; however, as the population began to grow, one of its more inventive citizens decided that the village’s older structures may benefit from reinforcement — the closest resource being the abundant bluestone monoliths in the nearby fields.

Local masons broke pieces from the stones, and in at least three cases, destroyed the monoliths almost entirely to their bases. Using these pieces, they added decorations to their homes. They also constructed new houses and barns.

Some of the population warned that using the ancient stones in this manner would be a grave mistake. And soon, tales sprang up of a curse upon the structures built from the circle’s broken stones.

There is evidence that the families who lived in the stone houses of Gingerwich befell early deaths from farming accidents and sickness. There are tales of failed crops, livestock deaths, stillbirths, even murder. Even more frightening tales exist: Rumors spread that dark figures roamed the village at night, sometimes entering houses to watch people asleep in their beds. Those who’d seen the creatures claimed that they walked upright like humans, but their bodies were goatlike and skeletal, with wide, twisted antlers rising from their skulls.

The structures that had been built using the stones were eventually abandoned, but the troubles did not end there. Bad luck continued to befall the people of Gingerwich. The more superstitious folk claimed that demons now haunted the area, taking revenge upon the descendants of folk who had disrespected the stone circle.

Legend tells that near the turn of the twentieth century a group of citizens banded together, determined to stop the curse that had wreaked havoc upon their ancestors. They believed that simply dismantling the abandoned houses would have no effect on the curse or the demons; the damage to the monoliths, after all, could not be repaired. Instead, it was decided that they would need to look into their pre-Christian history for something to appease these pre-Christian spirits.

Collecting the few precious metals they owned, the people melted down their fortunes and forged a piece of jewelry. Its design was based upon the ancient pagan symbol for protection: a simple pentacle, the five points of which touched upon an unbroken circle. It was as close a reparation for the ruined circle at the town’s edge as they could imagine.

Believing that the offering would stop the demons’ wrath, the group entered one of the stone houses, searching the basement for what they believed was the heart of the house. In the darkness underground, they discovered an entry to a system of caves. Armed with torches, they made their way deep inside the twisting caverns, journeying until they could go no farther. It was there that they left their offering.

After the group returned to the surface, life soon returned to normalcy. It was determined that the pentacle had ended the curse.

The village of Gingerwich still stands today. The stone houses, however, have finally been disassembled, their pieces scattered across the nearby countryside, lost to the vagaries of nature and time and whatever gods or demons still hold sway over them.

“T
HAT IS REALLY FREAKY
,” said Joey.

“No freakier than what we’re dealing with right here in Whitechapel,” said Hal.

“What if we make an offering like the people of Gingerwich did?” asked Cassidy.

“Yeah, like a
present
,” said Ping. “Our little beastie seems to crave presents, right? We just need to find him the right one.”

“A
KEEP OUT
sign?” Joey said.

“Well, no. Not quite. It has to have meaning.”

Cassidy lit up. “Today we found stars carved into Ursula’s floor. The people in Gingerwich offered up a pentacle. That can’t be a coincidence, can it? Would it make sense for us to do the same thing?”

“I think you’re right,” said Ping. “Something with a star symbol on it. Something
old
. An artifact. A pendant. A drawing. A sculpture.”

“And then?” said Joey. “We bring our
star
back to the house and leave it there? Like how Hal left his mannequin in the foyer?”

Ping grimaced, then shuddered. “That’s not how they did it in Gingerwich.”

“What are you suggesting?” said Hal.

“Even if we find what we’re looking for, bringing the present into
the house
isn’t going to be enough. But there’s a crevice in the wall of Ursula’s cellar. Strange how such a huge crack would appear in a recent concrete foundation, right? If our own experience sort of mirrors what happened in Gingerwich, the crack in the wall might lead to a tunnel or cavern. If so, I’ll bet that’s where
our
demon is hiding.

Cassidy nodded. “We’ll bring him his gift —
the seal of protection
— and give it to him ourselves.”

“That’s crazy,” said Joey. Everyone at the table stared at him. “We already know what’s down in that basement. The dead crawled out of that crevice you’re talking about. If we go in there, we might never make it back out.”

“So we do nothing?” Cassidy asked. “Scary things are coming for us. Joey, we can’t just go hide in your bedroom closet. Either we do this … or we die.”

Joey shoved his pinky finger into his mouth and chewed at it. After a few seconds, Cassidy’s words seemed to sink in, and he spit out a mangled piece of his fingernail onto the floor. Everyone else groaned. “So we need a star. An artifact.” He glanced at Ping. “Where do we start?”

“We
are
on a college campus. There’s got to be some sort of special collection in one of these big buildings. Anthropology? Archaeology? I’m sure there are rooms
filled
with stuff we could use.”

Hal sniffed. “And you think it’s going to be any easier getting into those places than it was getting into the library? I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve never participated in a heist before.”

“But there’s another place nearby that might also have what we need,” said Cassidy. She picked up her bag from the floor and laid it on the table. From inside one of its smaller, hidden compartments she pulled out a pink crystal elephant, the one she’d named Triumphant.

Outside, the afternoon sun glared down. They had to hurry. If the dead were scary in full sunlight, Cassidy didn’t wish to imagine their faces after nightfall.

As the group crossed the quad, Ping told them her new plan. She’d head into the building where her mother’s office was. The security guards knew her there, so they wouldn’t question her when she went through. If her mother was still at her meeting, it was possible that her pocketbook was inside her office. Ping would
borrow
the car keys.

“Hopefully we can make it to Junkland and back before she even realizes we’re gone.”

“This feels wrong,” said Hal, as they stopped in front of the building. “Like stealing.”

“We don’t have a choice,” said Ping. “She’s not going to drive us there. Especially not if we tell her the reason we need to go. We can’t walk. What if we run into our
friends
on the road? What other options do we have?”

Though it wasn’t ideal, they all agreed that Ping’s plan would be the quickest and easiest way.

A few minutes later, they found themselves running toward the parking lot, the keys jangling from Ping’s clutched fist. At the minivan, she tossed them to Hal, who suddenly looked frightened. He shook his head and whispered to himself, something that sounded like, “You can do this.” Cassidy thought to herself that before the day was over, she would be telling herself the same thing. Hal unlocked the van, and they all climbed in.

W
HEN THEY ARRIVED AT THE STORE
, Cassidy was surprised to see that the sign over the front door read
GRACELAND REFURBISHMENTS
. She’d forgotten its actual name was not Junkland.

Behind the counter near the entrance, the two teenagers that had been there the other day dabbed at their foreheads with crumpled pieces of paper towel. The girl wore a ratty red T-shirt with a faded logo and a long, wrinkled skirt that looked like it had been made out of an Indian tapestry. Her hair was thick and red, divided into two messy braids that hung to her shoulders. Around her neck were dozens of thin chains and cords, beads and baubles. The boy beside her looked like he could be her brother; his own red hair was shoved up underneath a soggy-looking baseball cap. They waved hello apologetically. The air-conditioning was busted.

“Does anyone have any money?” Joey asked as the group moved down one aisle.

Hal pulled out a small wad of cash from his pocket. “Not much.”

“We’ll just have to be thrifty,” said Ping, chipper as always.

Cassidy wondered how she managed to keep it up. “Can we stay together this time?” she asked. “I really don’t want that
thing
to sneak up on me again.” As if any of them did.

They wandered the store, fanning themselves uselessly against the stifling heat. Though she was starting to feel dizzy, Cassidy glanced at the bottom of every glass case and the top of every high shelf. Joey picked up a roll of stickers, star-shaped and glittery. “Does this count?” he asked, with a look that said he already knew the answer.

“Cassidy could put them in her notebook,” said Hal with a smile. “But I doubt those are going to help us save the world.”

Cassidy felt her face burn. “How’d you know about my …” she started to ask before remembering that she’d showed it to them back at Hal’s house that morning. “Oh, right.”

They continued their search as Ping asked, “What’s with your notebook anyway? You said you collect information about
bad things
? Why?”

Cassidy felt her throat constrict. Darkness came at her from the corners of her vision. She clenched her fists and forced the anxiety away. Looking into Ping’s eyes, she explained. “It’s … for security,” she said. The others stopped to listen. “A few years ago … something really scary happened to me.” Pictures of that night flashed through her head. She slipped her bag off her shoulder, removed the notebook, then hugged it to her chest.

No one asked her what it was that had happened. They simply looked at her, giving her time to collect her thoughts, and if she felt the need, to put them into words. Cassidy knew if any of them had pressed her to continue, she wouldn’t have been able to. But on her own terms, she flipped the book open to the first page and showed them what she’d written there.

Cassidy’s Book of Bad Things, Entry #1:
Intruders