The 13 Guests, Chapter 2: Mr. Carpenter

I've been suffering from Writer's Block recently . . . which sucks, 'cause now that school's out, I actually have time to write. The bulk of the second chapter of this continuing story came from a sudden burst of creativity that kept me up until 1:30 in the morning, and will probably not happen again anytime soon. So, here is the continuing story of Tabbitha and the Carpenter house.

The 13 Guests
Chapter 2: Mr. Carpenter

Mr. Carpenter, though in his eighties, remained an imposing figure of a man. A soldier through three wars, a justice, and an intelligence agent, the man had seen a lot more than most, and his experience gave him authority, even when he didn't try to exert it. People who knew him, even if they didn't like him, respected him. He maintained his grave look–he hadn't smiled in years–as Mary walked in the door. Mary Holland had been a faithful servant to Mr. Carpenter for several years, ever since she had been an attractive college dropout in her twenties. Now she was an attractive woman in her thirties, with curly brown hair and a cute face that was still girlishly freckled, a feature of occasional embarrassment to her.

"She's here, sir," Mary said. "Phil's getting her cleaned up."

"Thank you," said Mr. Carpenter. "She is young?"

"Very young. She can't be more than sixteen." The man nodded. He had predicted as much.

"Our youngest so far," he said. "But she can handle it. I'll have Ron help her; he wasn't much older than she when he arrived.

"Sir," Mary said. "She knows this place."

"I'm sorry?"

"She knows it. She seems . . . familiar with it."

Mr. Carpenter shrugged. "She's probably heard the stories."

"There's more than that. She addressed Phil by name." Mr. Carpenter looked up.

"Really?" he asked. Mary nodded. Mr. Carpenter looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged again.

"Well, she may have done more research than the others." He stood. "I'll see her now. Thank you." Mary nodded again, and left.

In a moment, Phil walked in. Behind her was the girl. She was very young . . . although she seemed to have the same sort of authority that Mr. Carpenter possessed. Her hair, still damp from the storm, couldn't seem to decide between brown and blonde, and her eyes couldn't decide between brown, green, or hazel. She was somewhere between tall and short, between stout and skinny, and between plain and pretty. In short, a very ordinary looking girl. But there was something in her . . . a bright, fiery spirit, though at the moment it was deeply hidden. Mr. Carpenter saw that great things could be expected of her.

The girl had been changed into the clothing the house had provided her. The outfit would be typical of the kind she would ordinarily wear. In this case, jeans and a hoodie. Another ordinary aspect of her appearance that concealed her character.

"I'm Mr. Carpenter," said the man. "I'm the owner of this house. I like to meet with our new arrivals, try to get to know them and give them a chance to know me. Also, to fill them in on what's going on." He looked at her. She was frightened and trying not to show it. "What's your name?" She didn't answer. "I assure you, there's nothing to fear. Please . . . your name?"

"Tabbitha," the girl answered quietly.

"Mary tells me that you know more about this house than most, Tabbitha," Mr. Carpenter said. "Beyond the campfire stories, I mean." Tabbitha smiled.

"It started as a campfire story," she said. "I've always been into ghost stories, and this was one of my favorites. I wanted to find out more . . . I even thought about coming here myself. But I could never bring myself to actually do it. So I just poked around a bit. I didn't learn much, really. Just the names of the people who disappeared."

There was something about the girl that seemed vaguely familiar. "What did you say your name was?"

"Tabbitha. Tabbitha Forrester." Ah.

"Forrester?" Mr. Carpenter asked. "Your grandfather wouldn't have been Jeff Forrester, would he?"

"Yes," said Tabbitha, slowly. "That was his name. I never really knew him."

"No, you wouldn't have. Your father . . . Joseph?"

"Joe, yes," Tabbitha said. "You know my family?"

"Some of them," Mr. Carpenter said. "Jeff was in my unit during the Second World War." He was silent for a moment, then went on. "Let me tell you about the part of the story you probably don't know. Ten years ago, this house was cursed." He opened a drawer in his desk and took out a piece of paper. "Specifically, the curse stated that no one could leave the house. As near as we know this is true. We've tried every door, every window. None of them will open. The curse does allow, however, for people from the outside to let people out of the house. Unfortunately, no one knows we're here. So when someone does happen to stumble upon the house, they end up trapped like the rest of us. For once they're inside, they can't get back out. The curse allows for thirteen people to enter the house. After that, the house is sealed, both inside and out." He handed her the paper.

"Then what happens?" Tabbitha asked, reading the paper.

You're trapped here now; there's no way out,
The door is sealed, although you doubt.
The door is locked to you within,
But from without, they can get in.
The door is shut, there's no egress,
But I'll let in some thirteen guests
Before the door is locked forever,
And sealed from both sides, opening never,
Until this curse has run its course,
And all your guests have met the worst.
They shall not want, they shall not die,
They'll simply vanish from the eye.
This house becomes an empty shell,
Just as the Magic Circles fell.
Then they may come in, if they dare,
Only to find . . . there's no one there.

Mr. Carpenter knew when she had finished reading, even though the girl didn't look up. "The closest metaphor I can think of to describe it is death," he said. "The house has not begun dying yet. There's no telling when the process will start, but my guess is that it will be sometime when the arrival of the thirteen ‘guests' is imminent. That time is drawing closer. You are the tenth arrival since the curse was placed." Tabbitha was still staring at the paper. There was something else on her mind.

"Who cursed you?" Tabbitha asked.

"A man called Jeb. He was a man I once trusted. One day he came to my house, and when he left, he left the curse."

"Jeb Johnston?" Mr. Carpenter was surprised anew. He had known that this was no ordinary young woman, even before her arrival. But he hadn't expected this.

"You know of him?"

"I know him. And his brother."

"Jerome? He hasn't been seen for years."

"He's returned. His curse was broken." Mr. Carpenter sat down again.

"There is much I need to catch up on," he said.

Tabbitha looked at the old man for a moment. "Mr. Carpenter . . . maybe we can help each other. I'll tell you my story, if you tell me yours." Mr. Carpenter laughed, slightly.

"You're sure you'd be interested?" he said. "Most people aren't interested in the background. They're just interested in what's keeping them here, how they can escape it, and how long they have to wait until they can."

"I'd imagine so," Tabbitha said. "But as you've no doubt realized by now, I am not most people." The old man smiled. "I had a feeling something big was going to happen to me. Now that it's happened . . . I'm taking advantage of the opportunity. I want to know about this curse."

Mr. Carpenter leaned forward, resting his arms on his desk. "Very well. It's an involved story, and there are many aspects that I can't explain. But I'll do my best." He paused, collecting his thoughts, then began to divulge his memories.

***

Jeff Forrester paced. His young face was contorted into a mixture of worry, anger, and grief. His eyes were red from hours of weeping. My eyes were red too, but I was calmer than my friend. I had seen this coming. And I knew what was still to come.

"How much longer?" he asked.

"Few more minutes," I answered quietly. Jeff turned.

"I can't take this waiting," he said. "I wish it could just be over."

"I've been wishing that since I found out about it. It'll be over soon." Jolene, a wiry girl who had been sitting very quietly, looked at Jeff with concern.

"Why don't you sit down?" she asked her friend. She was upset too, I could tell. Everyone was.

"It ain't fair," Jeff said, ignoring her plea.

"No one said it was," I said calmly.

"No fifteen-year-old should have to go through this." Jeff looked out to where our dying friend lay. He couldn't see her; Gina was seeing to that.

"No, Jeff. No one should." Jeff turned to me, characteristically taking out his anger on the people he loved. We constantly forgave him.

"How can you be so calm? Our best friend is dying, and you just sit there!" I stood.

"You think I'm calm, Jeff? I'm screaming inside. Storming, cursing, doing everything you're doing, except I'm keeping it to myself. ‘Cause I know that all the yelling in the world isn't gonna bring her back. Sit down." I sat again, and watched as my friend did the same. We were young. All of us, young. The hardships we had endured were unlike those of most young children, yet still we moved, ever forward. But this most recent hit was nearly crippling.

Jolene went over to him. She had always liked him, though she was two years younger than he. And I knew that Jeff liked her. Jolene put one skinny arm around Jeff's shoulders, trying to calm him.

"Why do these things happen, Jolene?" he whispered. He was crying again.

"My ma used to say, ‘Bad things happen so God can make them good again." Jeff looked up at her.

"Maybe," he said, grabbing the hand on his shoulder and holding it tightly.

"Hey," Jolene said, perking up slightly. "I've been working on my Animation. Wanna see?"

Jeff looked like he was about to protest, until I spoke up. "Sure, Jo. Let's see it." The girl grinned and pulled a scrappy piece of paper from her pocket. She unfolded it carefully so as not to tear it, and looked at it. She had drawn a stick figure person on it in carbon, so it would show up easily. Concentrating, she willed the little figure to move.

The black figure twitched a bit, then started moving slowly, as if just waking up from a long nap. One of its legs crossed over the other, then moved back as the other came forward and the pattern repeated. Slowly, jerkily at first, and then more fluidly, the stick figure walked in place on the paper. Once it got the rhythm going, it held out its arms, and stepped to the side, then back, doing a slow waltz with itself, even swaying with imaginary music as it danced. Jeff smiled for the first time in almost two days. I smiled as well. The stick figure made a bow to its imaginary partner, then reverted back to an ordinary carbon drawing on the page.

"That's very good, Jo," I said. "Your magic is really improving." The girl beamed, proudly.

"Yeah," Jeff said. "Just keep practicing. Soon, you'll be able to make that stick figure jump off the paper." Jolene laughed. "Thanks, Jolene. That really cheered me up." Just as I knew it would, I thought as Jeff hugged the little girl.

I suddenly felt a wrenching in my gut. I turned toward the place where our friend lay. Jeff did the same. He knew as well as I did. "It's time."

Gina appeared, walking out right where I stared. She had blood on her hands and dress, and her dark brown hair had fallen out of its kerchief. She looked tired.

"She's dead," she said bluntly. "It's over." Jeff's tears were renewed. He sobbed on Jolene's small shoulder.

"What of the baby?" I asked.

"Jacqui's taking care of him. Near as we can tell, he's healthy." She paused. "What should we do with . . .?" She trailed off, afraid to say the rest. But I knew what she meant.

"We'll give her a proper burial, after we're through here."

"What about the baby?"

"We'll care for it." Gina looked at me.

"Are you crazy? We can barely care for ourselves!"

"It's either that or give him to an orphanage, and I won't do that," I said, adamantly. "Not after what we went through. We'll be fine. We've done pretty well by ourselves." Gina nodded. Then as if the realization of her friend's death had just hit her, she collapsed, sobbing, into my arms. It was all I could do to keep from crying along with her . . . but someone had to remain firm.

Jacqui appeared, in no better condition than Gina. She held a bundle in her arms. She surveyed the scene. Her eyes were red as well. Releasing Gina, I went over to look at the child.

"His name's Jonathon," she said. "It was her last request. Named after her father."
"Of course. Jonathon it is." Jeff and Jolene had come over too. The baby was beautiful. Like his mother had been.

"We'd better get back," I said, choking back tears of my own. "The others are waiting. Julian probably knows already. Jacqui, do you have the curse?"

"Right here." She handed me a small piece of paper.

"Good. Let's go." The five of us walked back to the main camp.

Julian met us as we arrived, his young face unnaturally somber. He knew. Julian had wanted to be there with her, but Julie had forbade it. She hadn't wanted anyone to see her, except those who had to help her with the baby.

The others stood as we arrived. Eleven-year-old George, who had brought us here, and who helped us when we needed speedy escapes; ten-year-old Gene, who had a talent for creating diversions and getting into trouble; nine-year-old Jillian, who got sicker by the day but remained strong in spirit, and her two-year-old sister Jill, oblivious to all that was going on. Jillian held another baby, sound asleep; Jacqui's daughter, named Juliet. A small, dark cat was curled up in Jill's lap. Jillian and Jill were the newest members to our group, apart from Jonathon. They had been rescued from an orphanage two years ago, along with Jolene. And now Jillian was sick, and no one knew what to do about it, except to have Gene develop his healing talent.

Jillian would not die of her sickness . . . though it would have been a kinder death than the one she experienced.

They all looked to me, waiting for me to speak. "Julie is dead," I said, bluntly. "She has . . . passed on her life to her son, Jonathon." Jacqui held up the baby for all to see. "Jonathon will grow with us. And he will be . . . a reminder of Julie's life. May we never forget her." The others nodded, even as they cried. "It's time to move on. Whatever took Julie from us isn't going to go away. I don't know how to defeat this monster. But I do know that none of us can do it alone. So, we need to come together." I took out the paper. "Julie wrote us a curse before she died. It's called the Curse of Friendship. I'm not sure exactly what it does, but she said it would enable us to grow closer together. I know this to be so." They nodded again. They trusted my predictions, though I didn't always trust them myself. Or, perhaps I didn't want to . . . for on that day, I was able to see the fate of everyone in that lot.

"Most of you have magical gifts. There are two of those gifts not with us, but I fear we can't wait any longer for them." The cat suddenly jumped from Jill's lap to the ground. I ignored it and moved on. "It's time. If you will all–" Jacqui tapped my shoulder. I turned to see what she needed. She was looking at the cat, now standing not five feet from me and looking into my eyes.

"That's no cat," she said. "That's a Transformer."

"Are you sure?" Jeff asked.

"I just made a quick search for one, just to be sure. There's Transformer magic coming from that cat." I turned to Jeff. The redhead nodded and knelt down in front of the animal. He made a few purring noises, and the cat responded. Jeff stood.

"He says his name's Josiah and that he's here with his friend, Jessica. He says they're orphans too."

"Where's Jessica?" I asked, looking around. Jacqui pointed to Jill, who had stood and was walking over. "She knows where Jessica is?"

"She is Jessica," Jacqui said. "She's an Illusionist." I nodded. I had not foreseen this, and found myself unprepared for these new additions.

"Jessica," I said to the girl, "show yourself." Jill's features melted away and were replaced with those of another girl. Jillian started, and immediately began looking around for her real sister. The girl now before me was not much older than the image of Jill had been, about a foot taller, and with fine, blond hair. She wore a simple yet soiled dress, and no shoes. She looked very cold.

"Jeff, tell the boy to change." Jeff communicated with the cat again.

"He says he doesn't want to," he said.

"It's ‘cause he can't change his clothes," the young girl said, speaking for the first time.

"What was that?" I asked.

"He doesn't wanna change back ‘cause he hasn't figured out how to change his clothes into the cat with him, so he hasn't got none. If he changes back now he'll be cold. He's a lot warmer as the cat, plus it's his favorite."

"Where's my sister?" Jillian yelled from her spot. "What'd you with her?" Juliet awoke and began crying.

"She's right there," the girl said, pointing. Jillian looked behind her to see Jill, sound asleep. "I gave her a nice dream so she'd sleep."

"Who are you?" I asked, as Jillian, somewhat consoled, tried to calm the baby.

"Jessica Stein. Josiah and me were in a bad place together, until Josiah found out he could make himself a cat. I can make myself a cat too, but it isn't real. It only looks like I'm a cat."

"You were orphans?" Jacqui asked.

"That's what everyone told us. We don't know what it means though."

"Your parents are gone?"

"I don't have any parents. They ran out of parents when I was s'posed to get ‘em, so they put me in the bad place instead. Josiah too." I smiled at her childish explanation.

"How long have you been following us?"

"We found you yesterday. You looked like good people, and we needed someone to take care of us, like they did in the bad place, only nicer."

"I see," I said. "Well, you can stay with us. Gina, see if you can get them some clothing, anything of Julie's." I turned to Jacqui. "Can I see you for a minute?" We walked away from the group somewhat, so we wouldn't be overheard.

"How's Jonathon holding up?" I asked, evading the uncomfortable issue.

"He's been sleeping, but he needs to be fed soon."

"He will drink your milk, Jacqui, along with your daughter. You will act as his mother. Can you do that?" Jacqui nodded. Jacqui had been raped along with Julie and had given birth to Juliet two weeks ago. The child had no magic, which suggested that Jacqui would have more children. Hopefully, it wouldn't happen anytime soon.

I looked back at the two newcomers. "A Transformer and an Illusionist are exactly what we need, and they suddenly appear from nowhere?"

"I know. It's strange. Can you tell anything from their futures?"

"Enough to know that they won't cause us any harm, at least no more than we'll get anyway." My eyes lingered on the cat. "The boy . . . there's something about him. It's the same thing I sense in Jeff and Jillian. And you. His offspring . . . I see two brothers, both fighting for good, yet fighting against each other. They will cause a rift in the fight."

"Should we send him away?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "That will make things worse. Besides, I couldn't send him away." I sighed, seeing the horrible vision unfold. "The third circle will be set apart. Just as Josiah's sons will be set against each other, so will Jeff's grandchildren. But they will come together again as the third circle breaks up and the fourth is formed."

Jacqui stared at me. "You're prophesying again!" I barely noticed her. I was in an involuntary state of mind, that sent me images of things I did not want to see.

"Our circle, the first circle, will fail," I said, speaking words that were not my own. "Our children too, the second circle, will also fail. The magic, the curse, will nearly be lost . . . but it will be rediscovered. The third circle will be largely without magic . . . only two will possess the gifts . . . yet they will come far and fight well . . . but not well enough. They will be misled, and when they think they have succeeded, then they too will fail. Unless . . ." He stopped. He could no longer find the words.

"Unless what?"

"Unless . . . history can be rewritten . . ." Silence fell between us.

"Come," I said, feeling drained. "It's time."

"Wait," Jacqui said. "If the effort will ultimately fail, then . . .?"

"Why even bother?" I finished. "Because I don't know if they will fail. There is a chance that something–a fourth circle perhaps–will help them succeed. The future at this point is oddly unclear. But I do know that there will be no third circle unless there is a first one. So, come." I turned and walked back to the group, leaving Jacqui, clutching the newborn Jonathon to her breast, to follow.

~~~

We became the First Circle. Josiah grew with us, and we did our best to act as proper guardians to him, young though we were. It was never easy. We had to fight, not only the magical peril, but the peril of starvation. Jeff and I went to war, Gina and Julian went to school, and the others went to factories, all for the sake of supporting our small circle. Josiah and Jessica remained good friends, and Jillian and Jolene loved playing with them. We helped Josiah with his magic, teaching him in our crude ways how to turn into other animals besides cats. But the cat remained his favorite, always.

We grew up, and apart . . . but the Friendship Curse kept the link between us. Josiah took a simple factory job, never striving to be anything more, and seeming satisfied. He married a lovely young lady, and they named their first son Jebadiah, Jeb for short.

I came to know Jeb mostly from the horror stories that came from Jeff's daughter, Nicole, who babysat him often. Apparently, he was an excited child, always up to something, and constantly leaving poor Nicole exhausted. Meanwhile, I had married, and had a daughter of my own, named Kathryn, Kate for short. Since Jeff and I were friends, naturally our daughters were as well, though they were as different from each other as it was possible to be. Nicole was outspoken, childish, and something of a troublemaker. She had the magic of Location, which she often used to locate trouble. Kate, in contrast, was serious, studious, and quiet, and usually submitted to Nicole's somewhat dubious authority. Still, Nicole depended on Kate more than she realized. They were inseparable in their early years, and they would be instrumental in the formation of the Second Circle.

But back to Jeb. Jeb showed no evidence of magic, but I knew that there was something special about him, so I kept a close eye. The child grew normally, showing the same knack for trouble that Nicole had, and–also like Nicole–an intelligence unmatched by his peers. Perhaps that's why they got along so well together.
When Kate and Nicole were fourteen and Jeb was eight, Josiah and his wife had their second son, Jerome. Nicole was called to their house more and more often to babysit Jeb. One day, she came to visit Kate, and I heard them giggling in the other room. Normally I ignored this, but something told me I should go in and see what was so funny. At the time, I thought it was only father's intuition.

Kate and Nicole were giggling over a piece of paper when I walked into the room. "Hi, Mr. Carpenter," Nicole said, still trying to stifle laughter.

"Hello, Nicole," I said. "May I ask what you're laughing at, or would I not get it, being an old, fuddy-duddy adult?"

"Oh, Dad . . ." Kate muttered, like she always did.

"Oh, it's nothing . . ." Nicole said, still giggling. "It's just . . . Jeb gave me this poem he wrote me . . . it's just so cute!"

"Jeb has a crush on Nikki . . ." Kate said in a singsong voice.

"Oh, stop it! He does not!" Nicole handed me the poem and I looked at it. It was a simple verse, written by an eight-year-old, talking about how much fun he had with his sitter, and how much he wished she could live forever.

"He's six years younger than me! C'mon!" Nicole was saying.

"Oh, like you've never had crushes on older men!" Kate retorted. "Remember Mr. Kenderson . . ."

"Shut up! You swore you'd never tell!" Nicole yelled, blushing.

"Not to worry, I didn't hear a thing," I said, handing the poem back to Nicole. "Sounds like Jeb's taken a shine to you, Nikki."

Nicole sighed. "Like father, like daughter," she muttered, and she and Kate went back to their conversation, having forgotten that I was in the room. I walked out, smiling, yet wondering what it was I had suddenly become so concerned about.


It wasn't until a few months later that I found out. One of the teachers at the elementary school had disappeared. Jeb's teacher, in fact. My suspicions aroused, I went to the school. I wished then that I had had Jacqui and her magic of Location with me . . . but Jacqui had died only four years earlier, so I had to settle for Nicole's much less developed magic.

"I just wish I knew what we were looking for," Nicole said.

"I have not taught you much about curses, I know," I said. "That's because I know so little myself. I didn't write curses."

"Well, refresh my memory. Maybe that'll help." We were standing in the cafeteria of the elementary school. No one was around but the janitors. I had told them that we were waiting for someone, and they accepted that. But if we waited here much longer, they wouldn't. And if they overheard me talking to Nicole about curses and magic, that would make matters worse.

"Maybe outside," Kate suggested. She was also with us, since curses often dealt with the written word, where Kate's magic of Communication would help us. And because Nicole hadn't wanted to go on this excursion without including her best friend. So at Kate's suggestion, the three of us moved outside.

"Curses are a form of magic not inherent," I said in a low voice as we arrived outdoors. "That is, rather than a person directly using magic, as you and Kate do, a person employs something else to do the magic for them. More often than not, this manifests itself in the written word. These curses can operate under any kind of magic. For instance, one doesn't have to be a Transformer to write a Transforming curse. All that is usually required is that the person has some sort of magic ancestry. The curse-writer doesn't even to have to have any inherent magic at all. So your brother Joe, Nicole, might be able to write curses." Nicole had a twin brother who I saw very little of. Jeff hadn't wanted him to be a part of this, since he didn't have the magic.

"So I'm looking for a piece of paper?" Nicole asked.

"Possibly. It could be anything with writing on it, though, not necessarily paper. What you are looking for is something infused with magic, whose magic is probably operating. And it probably has the written word."

"Which is where I come in," Kate said.

"Which is where you come in," I agreed. "Your magic is, as yet, undeveloped, but between the two of you, we might be able to find the curse."

"What makes you think the school is cursed?" Nicole asked. "I mean, you said only people of magical ancestry can write curses. Don't you know all the people of magical ancestry?"

"Yes," I answered.

"And would any of them write curses like this?" Nicole asked.

"Most of them don't know how," I replied. "Which is why I'm concerned. Now . . . we're wasting time. Search." Nicole and Kate turned to each other, gave a shrug that said "adults!" and began concentrating.

I needn't go into the specifics of the search. Suffice to say that it ultimately led to room 130, the third grade classroom that had been used by the vanished teacher. The door was unlocked, so we let ourselves in. By now, Nicole had a better idea what she was looking for.

"It's over here," Nicole said, leading us over to the teacher's desk. Nicole opened one of the drawers, reached in, and pulled out . . . and dog-eared piece of notebook paper. She looked at it, and furrowed her brow.

"This is Jeb's handwriting," she said, handing me the note. "I guess he didn't like his teacher very much."

I looked at the paper. It was another poem, crudely written in the style of an eight-year-old, stating his wish that his teacher would disappear. A common wish among elementary school students . . . yet with Jeb, the wish had come true. And by no accident.

"What is it, Mr. Carpenter?" Nicole asked.

"I'm afraid," I said slowly, "that Jeb is responsible for his teacher's disappearance."

Nicole tried to laugh, but she realized that I wasn't kidding. "What do you mean? Just because of this? They're just words . . ."

"No," Kate said, now reading the poem. "Not these words. These words have power." I looked at her startled, and realized that my daughter was fifteen, the same age Jeff and I had been at the start of the Circle, and was already showing signs of leadership . . .

No! It's too soon! They're too young!

"Are you saying that Jeb cursed the school," Nicole said, working it out, "and that curse caused his teacher to disappear?"

"Not just his teacher," Kate said. "His meaning was ambiguous. He doesn't refer to his teacher, but the ‘teacher in this classroom.' That means that any teacher who teaches in this room will also disappear." I realized that she was right. This was an aspect of the curse that would be taken literally.

"Should we warn people? Should we warn teachers not to teach in this room?"

"We can't," I said, sadly. "We'd be able to give no reason that wouldn't give them cause to think we were crazy."

"We have to do something," Nicole cried. "We can't just let all those teachers disappear!"

"We don't have a choice," Kate said. "It's too far-fetched for anyone to believe."

"Jeb . . . little Jeb . . . how can he be capable of this?" Nicole asked, near tears. "He's just a kid . . . just a little kid who didn't like his teacher. How . . .?"

"He didn't know what he was doing," I said. "He doesn't know he has such power. He'll have to learn how to use it properly . . . it can be used for good, as well as . . ." I stopped. Once again, my vision from many years ago came to me. Two brothers, turned against each other . . .

"It's time to head back," I said. I walked out of the room. I glanced back at Nicole, crying softly and being comforted by Kate. I didn't see fit to tell her about the other curse that Jeb had unknowingly written . . .

~~~

Jerome was his brother's brother, to be sure. He was a bit more subdued, but the excitement and intelligence were still there. The brothers were never close as children–the age difference made that impossible–but time changed that.

Soon, Jeb was off to Coleman Community College, the same college that Nicole and Kate had only too recently graduated from. Nicole was in her twenties now, and she still looked like a fourteen-year-old girl. This was something she and I had both had to come to terms with; she was cursed with Immortality. Though it may be every man's dream to live forever, Nicole had the wisdom to know that the dream would slowly become a nightmare.

Jeb met Dr. Jonathon Hampton, Julie's infant son, now pushing forty and a PhD in English Literature. In addition, he met Lilah Jordan, Gina's daughter, and the other children of the Circle. Soon he, along with Kate, Nicole, Lilah, and little Jenny Walker, Gene's daughter, barely into her teenage years but with an intelligence and maturity that astounded everyone, formed the leadership of the Second Circle. Using the same Curse of Friendship that Julie had originally written, with a few modifications by Jeb, the Second Circle was formed . . . forty years after the first one.

Meanwhile, the original members of the First Circle were perishing before my eyes. Jacqui, as I said, had died already. Jillian's death had followed shortly thereafter. Several years later, Jolene also met her untimely demise. Jeff was devastated. Though they had both married elsewhere, Jolene had always been Jeff's first love. Julian was killed in Vietnam, serving as a surgeon to the wounded. Jonathan died shortly after the formation of the Second Circle, leaving his infant daughter to be cared for by Kate and her husband. Only a year after that, Gina's daughter Lilah was murdered by a rapist. Jeb, who had grown very close to her, all but lost hope at her death. He took the leadership of the Second Circle, but his heart was never in it, and he eventually relinquished the duty to Kate and went into seclusion.

His brother, meanwhile, took no part in any of this. He moved to Vermont for his schooling. No one realized, at the time, that he possessed the magic of Telepathy. I did not even realize it. He had a hopelessly naive disbelief in magic, much like most people do, and thought his brother had grown quite eccentric. Jeb did not contact his family for a long time, and Jerome decided to go elsewhere, rather than fall into whatever trap his brother seemed to have fallen into.

Little did he realize that George White of the First Circle, with much the same idea in mind, had done the same thing shortly after Jillian's death. Jerome did not live all that far away from him, or his daughter, the other magical offspring who did not join the Second Circle.

Nicole, now thirty and still in the guise of a young teenager, decided to leave the area before she was suspected of . . . whatever she might be suspected of. She became an Immortal . . . one of a group of people who, for whatever reason, never age and never die. I didn't hear from her for a long time. Gene Walker died of a heart attack only months after Jenny's eighteenth birthday. Her mother had died giving birth to her. Jenny had only the Second Circle to depend on, and Kate and her husband helped whenever they could.

Then two years later, my own daughter, Kate, was killed. No one knew who had killed her, or why . . . but none of that mattered much anyway. Her death was as devastating to the Circle as it was to me. She had been the only thing holding it together. Its original leaders were gone. Lilah had died, Jeb and Nicole had fled, and Jenny, still recovering from the death of her father, now had the death of another caretaker to deal with. It was a wonder she made it through . . . but Jenny had the magic of Life. That may have been the only thing that kept her going.

Nicole returned for Kate's funeral, and mourned with me. Now thirty-five, she was unable to pose as Nicole Forrester any longer, so became Nicole Greerson, a young-looking, twenty-something model, and settled once again in Samuel Springs. She met an open-minded young man and fell in love with him. When she showed him her magic and explained her Immortality, (she said she wouldn't marry a man without telling him these things) he believed her, accepted her, and married her. But she couldn't hold the charade for long, and soon had to leave again. But before leaving, she gave her husband a daughter, who grew up to resemble her mother in many ways. She named her Samantha.

~~~

The deaths of my friends continued. Josiah was next. It was at his funeral that I finally met Jerome. I found, to my surprise, that he had just recently married Jenny Walker. I wondered at this, but I didn't have to wonder long.

"Mr. Carpenter," Jenny said, approaching me after the funeral. "May I have a word?"

"Of course." She was being unusually formal. It was a funeral, of course, but I didn't know how well she had known Josiah.

We went to a secluded area of the church. "There's an effort underway to relocate the surviving members of the Second Circle to someplace safe," she said. "Jeb feels that we're in danger, especially since Kate's death."

"What sort of relocation did you have in mind?" I asked.

"My father left me his house in Vermont when he died. I hadn't sold it, because it held sentimental value, and I started living there shortly after I finished college. That's how I met Jerome." She paused. "Actually, it was Jeb who brought on our meeting. He's been planning this for a while." So! Jeb hadn't abandoned the Circle after all . . . at least not completely. And neither had Jenny. The old leaders were still at work.

"Go on," I prompted.

"I'm convincing Jerome to turn the house into a boarding house of sorts . . . someplace where a lot of people would come to stay. He's warming to the idea. The area's already served as a place for those magicians who either aren't aware of their magic, or who have turned against it." I thought of George White and his daughter, ignorant of magic.

"How many members of the Second Circle know?"

"All of them who are left," Jenny said. "Julian, Amy, and Lily have already agreed to come. Also, we have a non-magical person in our number, Stephen Smith. He's been in Vermont keeping an eye on Jerome and Molly White, the other magical person that wasn't in the Circle. One thing led to another, and he and Molly are discussing marriage, and he'll convince her that they should move to the boarding house."

"What about the others?" I asked, trying to recall who all was in the Second Circle. Julian was the son of Julian Gregg. Amy was Jessica Stein's young daughter, and Lily was the infant of Jonathon Hampton, now nearly fourteen.

"Nicole believes that she's safe, now that she's immortal, and prefers to live on her own. Tom Elder doesn't want to leave his family." I nodded. Tom Elder, Jacqui's son, was one of the few members of the Second Circle doing well. He was a member of the Samuel Springs Police Department, married, had a son named Jake with Concealing magic, and a new baby daughter named Danielle. Naturally, he wouldn't want to drag them all to Vermont. He would just have to brave it out.

"Tammi's not sure. She's months away from giving birth, and although the boarding house would help her, she's not sure she wants it." Tammi, Jillian's daughter, had been the victim of a one night stand that had gotten her pregnant. She wouldn't want to be dependent on anyone. "Josiah Tolson refused. He said he wanted to keep searching, and he couldn't do that within the walls of a sanctuary." Josiah was Jolene's son. Kate's death had hit him, perhaps, hardest of all. It was causing him to continue a vigilant search for the thing that had killed her . . . but was also turning him against those few that were still close to him.

"We also have in our number, Jessica Stein . . . which is why I came to you," Jenny continued. "I'm wondering . . . if there are any other surviving members of the First Circle who want sanctuary in the house." I sighed. Most of the remaining Circle members would not go. Jeff wouldn't allow himself to be confined; George, of course, wanted to retain no memory of the Circle; and Gina, still teaching at the elementary school despite being nearly seventy, wouldn't want to leave. That left Jessica, who had already decided, and myself. But I didn't want to go either. There would be too many memories there. Perhaps I was like George in that regard . . . I didn't want to be reminded of our failed Circle.

I told Jenny all this, and she nodded. "I figured you'd say that."

"But I will help in any way that I can," I said.

"I figured you'd say that too. We've got it mostly figured out . . . but I'll let you know if we need your influence. You're pretty well respected by the others." She left me and returned to her husband at the reception.

I saw Jeb that day as well, but we didn't speak. He was oddly quiet, subdued. Of course, his father had just died . . . but I sensed more than that. What it was, I didn't know . . . but I would learn later.

~~~

Tammi ended up not going to Vermont. She stayed and gave birth to a daughter, which she named Molly. She raised her entirely on her own, and at the time I left, she was doing very well, a rambunctious child, much like Tammi herself had been. I don't know how she's doing now.

It was just as well that Tammi did not join the others. All that were supposed to be in the house were there. They arrived sporadically over the course of two years, and gave no sign that they knew each other. Jerome still did not know of his magic, or for that matter, of Jenny's or Jeb's, or that any such magic existed at all, and Jenny had not seen fit to tell him.

It wasn't until it happened that I realized what I mistake it had been to put the surviving members of the Second Circle together in one place. I didn't hear of the incident . . . until I saw a very strange news story. An entire house in Vermont . . . just vanished, along with everyone inside. As they named the names of the house's inhabitants, I realized what had happened.

Jeb. Jeb had cursed the house. I knew not how. Jeb, in his years of seclusion, had come into the power of the enemy. He had become the enemy. I should have seen it . . . should have divined it! He had betrayed Jenny. He had betrayed Jerome. He had betrayed the Circle.

So it was that the First Circle lost another member, and the Second Circle lost five. It was merely another death in the First Circle, but it was, in many ways, the final, crippling blow to the Second. Each Circle had only four members left. (I no longer counted Jeb as a member of the Second Circle.) Then a few weeks later, I received word: upon hearing of the disappearance of his daughter, George White had fallen ill and died.


Jeff Forrester died of a sudden heart attack the year before our house was cursed. It was at his funeral that I met you, Tabbitha. I realize this now. You were not yet five, loud and boisterous, like your grandfather and your aunt. Neither of your parents knew who I was, of course, and neither did you. But that didn't stop you from coming over and introducing yourself. I doubt you even remember. I sensed something in you. I still sense it in you. You are no ordinary girl.

Also at the funeral was Nicole, disguised again as an anonymous mourner. Only I knew who she was. You introduced yourself to her too . . . and there were tears in her eyes as she realized who you were. She carefully avoided seeing your father.
That evening, I went to see the only other surviving member of the First Circle. She was still at the school, planning what she would teach to her kindergarten class. She had always loved children, just like Jacqui . . .

Gina–known by her students as Mrs. Jordan–had grown old. Both of us had, in more ways than one. Slowly, carefully, we walked together to her home.

"It was a beautiful service," she said. She smiled. "His granddaughter's something, eh?" I smiled, remembering the little girl. "She starts kindergarten next year. So does Tammi's daughter. And Nicole's." She sighed, sadly. "They're all so lucky . . . that they had children who lived long enough to have their own children." She stopped walking, and turned to me.

"I can only keep myself concealed for so long," she said. "And you too. The First Circle has failed."

I nodded. "Jeb has gone to the enemy; Nicole can't show her face; Tammi's trying to raise a child on her own; Josiah is shutting out people more and more . . . even Tom can't last long. The Second Circle has also failed."

"Then we must form a Third one," Gina said determinedly.

"We have so little to work with," I said. "Most of the surviving children from the Second Circle are only going to be in kindergarten next year. Tom's son Jake is the only one we know for sure has magic, and he's only eight."

"Only eight?" Gina said, arching an eyebrow. "I was ‘only eight' once. So were you. Remember?" I remembered. All too well. "By the way . . . there's a new teacher in room 130." I sighed, and nodded. "Nice young woman, name of April. April First. Her parents must have had a quirky sense of humor. It would be a shame . . ." Gina looked at me pointedly. "Children grow. We can wait."


We waited. I stayed in my house most of the time, becoming as secluded in my old age as Nicole or Josiah. I knew people told stories about me. Made up stories, really. The people of Forrest Falls tended to avoid me. Some thought I was mad. But I didn't care. I was too old and too sad to care.

Then it happened. Philip came up to inform me that there was a Jeb Johnston to see me. I'd not heard from him since he had cursed Jerome's house. Why be so open? Surely he knew that I no longer trusted him. Did he not think I would notice Jerome's vanished house?

But Jeb had no magic. It was his brother who had it. I had him sent up.
Jeb was as friendly as I remembered him in his youth. Smiling, laughing, making idle conversation . . . it was as though he was back to normal. This, I feared, above all else that Jeb could have done.

Before he left, he placed a piece of paper on my desk. Too late, I realized what it was . . . and by the time I had read his curse, Jeb was gone.

~~~

I informed Philip and Mary, my two houseworkers, of our plight. They took the news badly at first, but ultimately accepted what had happened. We were trapped in the house. The door would not open, unless someone opened it from the outside to let us out . . . and of course, no one knew we were here. Even Gina had, somehow, been denied the information, and I had kept such little contact with the Second Circle survivors, that none of them knew I was missing until too late.

The curse provided us with whatever we needed to survive. Food, water, electricity, heat, etc . . . it wanted to ensure that we remained alive, even as the house died. For that was what the curse ensured . . . that the house would die, and all who were trapped inside it would disappear. It also stated that once thirteen people entered the house, the door would be sealed, outside and in, until the curse had run its course.

I predicted most of the arrivals . . . but no one could get to door before it closed behind them. That, too, seemed to be part of the curse. The first arrivals were some college kids, three of them, and a police officer who had been set to arrest them for trespassing. There ended the peace and quiet I had enjoyed for so many years. They fought and argued often. There was a couple experiencing some problems, and one of the students was apparently a dropout, who the policeman seemed to have it in for.
The next arrivals brought even more fighting; three sisters who had not gotten along since the youngest had graduated high school. The oldest, I realized, was April First, the teacher Gina had mentioned had taken over the cursed classroom. The curse, then, was manifesting itself this way. I also learned, through April, who was by far the kindest of the three, about Gina's death. I was now the only member of the First Circle left . . . and I was trapped in my own home.

The eighth arrival was a complete surprise. A high school senior, entering the house on a dare, I suppose, was found half frozen and unconscious in the doorway one night. In time, I learned that he too had a curse . . . a curse that had sent him back in time through his own memories. He had been cursed as an old man . . . and by his description, it sounded like it had been Jeb who had cursed him. This chilled me. If Jeb was to survive until this young man was an old man, what hope did we have? But the fact that this man had become old seemed to indicate a sort of hope . . . for him at least. Perhaps he would escape the curse of the house.

Next was a dentist, Nicole Wyde, a rather eccentric woman, who showed concern for my age and health. Concern that is, unfortunately, warranted. I hadn't really realized, until her arrival, just how old I had become. And yes, my health is failing. I have slowed down considerably, and do not often go farther than my bedroom or office in this house. Nicole reminds me so much of my own daughter, and she has come to care for me . . . perhaps more than she should.

And then you, our tenth and newest arrival, Tabbitha Forrester. And I have learned from you now that Josiah Tolson, after shutting himself away from the world, has vanished, but that Tom and Tammi are still very much alive, that Jerome and Jenny have returned from their curse . . . and most troubling, that Jeb is alive as well. I wish I could tell you what will happen, but the future is cloudy . . . which suggests that I will not live much longer. My only hope, Tabbitha, is that the Third Circle, which you are now apparently the leader of, will succeed where the others have failed, and that history, as I once predicted, will be rewritten . . .

***

"What's next?"