Part Three

The Death Wish

April—June 1956

One small theory before we are on our way: there is perhaps nothing a human will not do with the right set of variables and provocations. Throughout the tale that history tells, much has been done in the name of love, hate, fear, anger, desperation, and the like. Atrocities have been committed. Miraculous good deeds have been performed. Battles have been waged.

All of this on a grand scale as well as a much smaller one.

***

Mabel Starkowski had died on June 4th, 1955. She had never left Clearwater. While all of Medula was trying to find her, she was somewhere south, rotting underneath Briargate School for the Gifted.

There are very few plain mysteries in the entirety of this story, but why none of the authorities in Medula spent any real time looking into the notion that she had never made it home to Medula is certainly one of them. Any number of things could be the cause: misunderstanding, miscommunication, incompetence, cutting corners, deliberate sabotage. I myself like to believe—perhaps over-optimistically—that it was an honest, if grave, mistake. The time has long since passed for anyone to know for sure. Whatever the cause, the error did not matter much in the end. It is highly unlikely that normal police would have been able to find Mabel Starkowski even had they been looking in the right place.

In the end, Allison Groves would never know that she was the last person to see Mabel alive.

Shannon, Caleb, Ginger, Ollie, Jared, and Dexter did not see much of Allison for quite some time after the night of March 16th. In theory, she was still around plenty. She showed up to her classes and could be seen in the hallways and corridors. Caleb would usually see her at breakfast and dinner. But she was suddenly harshly unavailable; she went home every weekend she had the chance, she all but disappeared most lunch periods, and she spent most of her free time in her dormitory. It was not blatant avoidance, but it came close. The six of them were willing to give her space; she had to come to turns with something they already had. By the start of April, a bit regretfully, they'd grown used to the lack of her presence.

Allison herself spent an increasing amount of time alone. Even at night in her dorm room, when her roommates were there she drew the curtains around her bed and read or studied or simply sat lost in her own thoughts. This solitude was much harder to find on weekends when she went home; the Groves family had been blessed with twelve children, and though Allison was the youngest—and only five of them, Allison included, still technically lived at home—at any given time the Groves's house could be found packed to the rafters with both family and friends.

Allison's oldest brother Victor turned thirty-one at the beginning of April. Miriam Groves, the Groves family matriarch, had always gone above and beyond on each child's birthday—an impressive feat considering there were twelve of them—so it was no surprise when every sibling, Victor's girlfriend Signe, and plenty of family friends were ordered to the house on the weekend following Victor's. Allison escaped to the bedroom she shared with two of her sisters as soon as she thought was safe. No matter how badly she wished to be alone, it was not worth it to invoke the wrath of her mother. Miriam Groves was not a woman of much flash, but she was a master of finding subtle ways of making her irritation perfectly clear. None knew this better than her children.

Allison figured she wouldn't be particularly missed. The concentration of the party was, understandably, considerably older than she was, and even the youngest of her older siblings had managed to wiggle their way into adult conversation that Allison herself was still too young for. She'd lasted downstairs as long as she could—she'd entertained one of her cousin's young children with her mastery of yo-yo tricks—but eventually she'd lost interest. She'd snitched a piece of cake on her way up—her mother abhorred her to eat in her bedroom—and padded up the stairs quickly, not wanting to be caught. As she climbed the stairs, she could hear booming laughter from the living room.

She fell against her bedroom door dramatically once she got inside, sighing when she heard the latch click. She sank to the floor, clutching her plate of cake with both hands. She contemplated the cake, trying to concentrate on it instead of anything else. Her aunt, Mandy, had made it. Aunt Mandy, Miriam's older sister, had made a cake for every single one of her nieces' and nephews' birthdays, as well as her own children's, since the eldest's first birthday. The cake itself was always bone dry, but the homemade frosting made up for it. Allison had gotten part of the 'V' of Victor's name; there was always a birthday message, and more often than not there was a mistake.

Unsurprisingly, the dessert failed to hold Allison's attention for very long. There was far too much else clogging her mind. She began to eat unenthusiastically, and was only a little comforted by the fact that Aunt Mandy seemed to have found a way to keep her cake somewhat moist. She'd have to give Mandy her praise.

The thing of it was this: Mabel's parents were there. Mr. and Mrs. Starkowski were downstairs, chatting with the family, wishing Victor a happy birthday and many more to come, and probably eating pieces of Aunt Mandy's cake as Allison sat in her room despondently munching on hers. And this was certainly not the first time Allison had seen them since Mabel hadn't made it home (and nowhere near the worst of the occasions), but this one was different. It was different, and she was the only one who knew it was different, like a bad smell only she noticed. Invisible to the eye and not concrete to touch, but ever present. That wounded look that had tempered their faces so terribly the day their daughter had disappeared had slackened some. It was not gone, but there was an awful resignation that entwined with it. The same could suddenly be found on Allison's expression.

All of Allison's siblings as well as her mother had attended Briargate, even though only Allison, her mother, and two of her siblings were gifted. The two murders at Briargate that had shut the school down for a number of years had happened after Miriam's time. Allison's oldest siblings had spent a year or two in public education because of it, but that was the most any of them had been affected by it. That did not mean that they were all complete strangers to the seamy underbelly of the supernatural world. An incident in Stephen's final year at school—one that had left him with a twisted, ugly scar underneath his left eye—had made sure of that. They'd known very well that there was a possibility that all of this was connected to Briargate somehow, as well as the supernatural community, though spread out and hidden, at large. When they'd been informed by Headmistress Patience Lea—as she had felt she was obligated to do for all of the parents and families—that it was likely that there were vampires on the loose, none of them had been exactly surprised.

  Had they all already known? ...had she already known?  

The next bite of cake stuck in a lump in Allison's throat. There was a tightness in her chest that was starting to ache. If she had to pick a word to describe the feeling, it was not sadness or unhappiness or melancholia or depression. It was dissatisfaction.

It seemed an unfeeling sentiment when stated so baldly. But it was a complex, multi-faceted emotion. Like an itch tucked away somewhere she couldn't reach, there was this lingering feeling that she should be doing something. That there was something that needed to be done. It made her want to crawl out of her skin. She'd been restless as of late, climbing the walls in a ferocious attempt to distract herself. The truth of Mabel's fate was written on every wall that she looked at; it was plain, certain, finished. But still she wanted another say. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

She set her plate of half-eaten cake down on the floor. Her appetite had disappeared. She laid her head back against the door and listened to the soft, indistinct voices of the party that was still in full swing downstairs. Something she supposed must be grief curled its greedy fingers around her ribs. The monster had been hibernating since June. Now it was unleashed.

A gentle knock pattered on her door. Allison sighed, her lips pulling into a grimace. That was probably her mother, come to know why she'd left the festivities so early—Allison was a little surprised she hadn't just barged in, which would have definitely hurt considering where she herself was sitting—

When Allison stood and pulled the door open, scooting the plate of cake away with her foot, she did not find her mother on the other side. It was her brother Noel.

Noel was the youngest of the male Groves children; he had turned twenty three days before Allison had turned twelve. Like all of his brothers, he had curly blond hair and dark brown eyes, both of which they'd all acquired from their mother. Out of all of the boys, however, Noel had the most striking face, as his jaw-line was strong, his eyes well-set and expressive, and his mouth was pulled into an attractive, somewhat roguish half-grin what seemed constantly. Allison knew that he'd had his fair share of girls who'd tried their hardest to capture his attention during his school days.

Despite their age difference, Allison was closest to Noel out of all her siblings. They'd come equipped with near the same temperament, and perhaps there was something in being the youngest, he of the boys and she of the girls. She'd always gone to him with her childhood woes, and he'd always taken time to indulge her with fun and games. Their understanding of each other would come as both a blessing and a curse.

But that time would come. That day, Noel stood in the hallway outside Allison's door, smiling a little sheepishly and holding a small white envelope in one hand.

"Hey, Goose. Why'd you run off?" Noel always called her 'Goose.' If there was a story behind it, Allison had long since forgotten what it was. Allison shrugged lamely and kicked at the floor with her toe. This seemed to amuse Noel more than anything. He reached out with his free hand and ruffled her hair. "They were starting to bore me too."

Allison smirked and knocked his hand away gently. Her eyes felt drawn, unbidden, to the envelope he held. "What's that?"

Noel cast his own gaze down to the envelope with a rueful smile. When he looked back at her, his eyes were apologetic. "Mrs. Starkowski gave it to me. She was looking for you to give it to, but, well..."

He made a vague sweeping gesture around the room with his arm and shrugged. He held out the envelope to her, and she could see her name written in sloping cursive on the front. There was a pause before she took it; she handled it gingerly, as if it may bite. It had not been properly sealed; the flap had simply been tucked inside. Allison looked at Noel questioningly, brows raised, but he only shrugged again. Silently, Allison pulled the flap out, reached a hand in delicately and retrieved three small photographs. Her hands shook slightly as she beheld them. She'd known as soon as she'd opened the envelope what they'd be. Each one depicted her and Mabel together. In two, they were grinning at the camera, obviously posed. The third was a candid, and it was old. Allison figured they couldn't have been more than five or six in it. Only a small chunk of Allison's face could be seen. She was turned profile and had even then had a mass of hair that blocked most of her countenance. It was easier to see Mabel, who was facing towards the camera, though not looking at it. Her face was scrunched in mirth and she'd brought her hands up to cover her laughing mouth. Allison no longer knew what caused Mabel's amusement. The picture provided no clues.

"What is it?" Noel asked curiously, coming to her side.

"Just pictures," Allison said quietly. It was nothing so simple.

Allison's face felt hot all of a sudden. It was like Mrs. Starkowski knew exactly what thoughts had been occupying her mind these past weeks, even months. It would've almost seemed like a sick joke if Allison didn't already know Mrs. Starkowski wouldn't dare. Besides, what kind of satisfaction would the woman gain from a trick like this?

Mabel's smiling face made Allison's stomach turn.

"Those are nice," Noel said gently, gazing at the pictures over Allison's shoulder. He could sense her nervous energy, though; he placed a hand on her arm.

"Yeah," Allison agreed, surprised to find that her voice was firm. She dragged a finger along the edge of one of them.

"You all right, Goose?" Noel asked almost casually, gently bumping her arm with his own. Allison blinked rapidly, but was again surprised to find no moisture gathering on her eyes. To anyone who would look on, she was composed. It was a jarring contrast to how she felt on the inside.

"Uh-huh," Allison said, nodding. "Fine."

Slowly, she shuffled backwards, nearly being taken by surprise when her legs met the edge of her bed. She sat down awkwardly, never taking her eyes off the three photographs. Noel joined her cautiously, leaving a sizable gap between the two of them. She could feel his eyes on her, but she looked at the photos longer, trying to memorize all the details. Finally, after long whole moments of weighted silence, she set the photographs down next to her on the bed. Breathing deeply, she folded her hands in her lap.

"That's a strange place to keep your cake," Noel said, gesturing to the half-eaten dessert on the floor that Allison had all but forgotten. Allison gasped out a surprised laugh.

"Yeah," she said. "I couldn't finish it. Wasn't hungry."

"You better get it out of here before Mom sees," Noel warned, but his voice was lighthearted. "She'll kill you."

Allison rolled her eyes and nodded. She had plenty of time before it would come to that. Miriam Groves was the consummate hostess; she'd never leave her guests until they had left her, unless it was to drag Noel and Allison back downstairs. In that case, Allison was pretty sure she could keep her mother distracted.

"You sure you're all right?" Noel asked after a time of silence that seemed unbearably long. The words sounded nonchalant, even uninterested, but there was deep concern on his face. Allison found she couldn't meet his eyes.

"I'll be fine," she said even though she didn't particularly believe it. "Aces." And that certainly tipped her hand. She rarely ever said 'aces' about anything. Noel didn't comment on it, though.

"Okay," he said evenly, standing up. "Don't hide up here all afternoon, all right? Victor might think you don't like him anymore."

Allison chuckled and tossed a hand at him as he left the room. He paused for barely a second, looking back at her, and then he was gone. Allison watched the hallway for a time after he left before finally picking the photographs up once again, her hands moving as if they possessed their own mind. She poured all of her attention onto each one, not really sure what she was hoping to see. Mabel alive, perhaps. A ridiculous wish if there ever was one.

After she inspected each picture carefully, she turned them over. She even smiled a little when she saw the date written hastily on each one. That was as much business as it was sentiment, she knew; Mr. Starkowski considered himself a bit of an amateur photographer and marked the date on each picture he took like an artist's signature. Mabel had told her that some time ago, long before they'd gone to Briargate, the place where everything bad seemed to have begun.

A rush of emotion rushed up her throat like bile. She was disgusted—no, she was enraged. It was not fair. It was inexcusable that in this world of wishes and magic her best friend was allowed to be dead.

Savagely, she shoved the photographs under her pillow before standing and rushing to the door, pausing to pick up her piece of cake. Perhaps the party could prove to be a distraction after all.

***All right, we're in the home stretch now. The final part. Thanks to everyone who voted and commented, I really appreciate it :)***