Sorrow's Point by Danielle DeVor

simply be that Lucy was sick because she was sick. Kids get stuff every day. Maybe Lucy had a genetic problem that hadn’t been diagnosed. Kids with genetic problems die early a lot of the time. It was just another item to add to the mix. So many things were lumped together. It was going to take a lot of work just to organize the symptoms against the “supernatural” stuff.
    Soon Tabby was done, and I rushed through my shower. When I was finished, Tabby followed me out. We dropped off our things in the library, then we headed back to the kitchen.
    Tor was standing, leaning with her back against the stove. There were bags under her eyes that hadn’t been there the day before.
    “How’s Lucy?” I asked.
    She looked at me, her eyes sad and rimmed with red. “I think she needs a doctor.”
    I nodded. “Do you need Tabby and I to do anything?”
    Tor shook her head. “Go ahead and do what you’d planned. Will is readying Lucy so we can take her to the emergency room.”
    “Do you think it’s pneumonia?” Tabby asked. “I overheard Will telling Jimmy that Lucy was having trouble breathing.”
    “I don’t know what it is,” Tor said.
    ###
    After Tor and Will left with Lucy, Tabby and I returned to the library and sat down on our respective sofas.
    “Jesus Christ,” Tabby said. “What a mess.”
    I chuckled. “You’re telling me? I really don’t know what’s going on. I wish I did.”
    She paused for a moment. “So, tell me about this room.”
    “Freakiest place I’ve been in awhile, that’s for sure.”
    “How so?” she asked.
    “I think you just need to see it. I doubt my descriptions will do it justice.”
    She stared at me.
    “No, really. Get your witchy stuff and let’s see what you can do.”
    Tabby laughed. “My witchy stuff. You never change, do you?”
    ###
    I led her out of the library, down the hallway and into the dining room. She paused, I assume to look at the dining room.
    I cleared my throat. “It’s up here.”
    She followed me up the staircase into the attic. When she stepped into the attic, she looked like a little kid just dying to explore. We wandered along, Tabby peering under sheets, until we reached the other side of the house. I didn’t have to tell her where the room was. She walked straight to it.
    She froze, literally in front of the door, almost as if a string had pulled her there and had gotten stuck.
    “I see what you mean,” she said.
    I let her do her thing. She pulled out a bundle of sage from her bag and lit it. Then, she opened the door to the room. She paused again when she stepped into the room.
    A gust of cool wind blew, making her hair fly around her face. She began chanting and moving the sage around. At first, it looked like nothing was happening, but then her sage stopped burning. There was no smoke, nothing. It just stopped.
    “I’ve never had that happen before,” she said.
    I scratched my head. “Maybe it’s trying to keep you from cleansing it.”
    Tabby pulled a lighter out of her pocket and tried to relight the sage, but it wouldn’t light. When she flicked the lighter, the flame would appear, but as soon as it got near the sage, the flame would go out again. Tabby growled.
    “All right,” she said, staring out of the room. “If it doesn’t want me cleansing it. I’ll do something else.” She stepped out of the room and closed the door.
    She started walking towards the other side of the house, so I grabbed her by the shoulder. “Did you see the mirror?” I asked, pointing at it.
    Tabby turned around and looked where I was pointing.
    “Oh my God,” she said.
    “What?” I asked.
    She crouched down and turned it over. “Do you know what this is?”
    I tried not to be stupid. “Well, it’s a mirror…”
    She swatted me on the leg with her hand.
    “Ow,” I said.
    She ignored my distress.
    “It’s much more than that,” she said. “It’s an old mirror. It’s a silver backed mirror.”
    “So?”
    “So!” She stood up.