The Curse of Arnford Manor

"Oh... Well, Me and my late husband have been dealing with Mr. Nolan for over thirty years," Mrs. Harrigan said.

"Dealing?" Demi asked, feigning ignorance.

"Yes..." Mrs. Harrigan replied, lowering her gaze to the floor. "Over the years, we've had to leave babies in his care."

"I assume you don't mean your own?" Demi facetiously remarked, nodding towards the black and white photos on the mantelpiece of Mr. & Mrs. Harrigan with their two sons.

"No..." the old lady shook her head, "No, they've all been foundlings... We've been making runs to the Applebury orphanage since '98. My guess is we would've made at least a dozen."

"Wow. That's a lot of babies," Nina remarked, "So, do people just leave them on your doorstep?"

"They never come here," Mrs. Harrigan answered. "I don't know why and I don't know how, but they're always left in the exact same place..." She lifted her head and looked Nina in the eye for the first time since they began talking about the babies. "...The small functions room up at the Arnford."

"The Arnford?" Swift Coyote asked.

"Yeah. The big resort hotel up on the hill. I was a maid at the Arnford for thirty-four years. Up until this big economic mess shut her down. Arthur started out there as a bellhop, that's how we met," Mrs. Harrigan explained. Arthur, the witches and Swift Coyote assumed, was her late husband's first name. "My fourth year there, we had this devil of a thunderstorm one night... worst I'd seen since I was a little girl. Round about midnight, I was cleaning the tables in the dining room when I hear a baby crying. So I followed the sounds into the small functions room and sure enough, there was a newborn boy just lying there on the floor. I wrapped him in my apron and took him to Arthur. Arthur talked to the night concierge and he arranged a carriage for Arthur to take the young'un to the nearest orphanage, in Applebury.

"We never thought much more of it after that. But then a couple years later, Arthur found a little girl, right where the first one had been left.

"They just keep comin'... Every couple years, someone leaves a baby right there -- in the middle of the room, about six feet in front of the stage. They just leave those poor little newborns there on the floor, cold, naked, still covered in afterbirth. The cords coming out of their bellies aren't cut and tied off... more like they've been torn apart from their mommas." Tears began to well in Mrs. Harrigan's eyes.

"Well, like I said, the Arnford closed down last year," she continued. "Seems no one's got the money to go on vacations these days. She's just up there... empty, forgotten... gathering dust and cobwebs. Nobody ever goes near her.

"A couple months ago a real nasty thunderstorm rolls in, late at night. Every time a storm like that hits Holliston, we find one of those babies. So I went up there in pouring rain, just to check. I thought I was being silly, to tell the truth. But as soon as I stepped into the lobby, I could hear the baby, screamin' her lungs out. Don't know how long she'd been laying there, all by herself. It's like whoever left her didn't even care if she was found..."

"Do you have any inkling about where the babies come from?" Nerine asked. "Perhaps there have been some local women who were expecting, and then suddenly weren't, with no baby to show for it?"

Mrs. Harrigan pondered the question before answering, "No, nothing like that."

"Or maybe guests at the hotel?" Levinia suggested.

"No," the old lady shook her head. "That's always been the strangest part about it. See, back in the day, the Arnford would have anywhere between eighteen and twenty-two members of staff working at night and twenty or so guests on a slow day. With all those people moving around, not once did anybody see anyone bringing those babies into the function room, or leaving the hotel afterwards. Whoever it was... well, they must've been able to sneak around like a cat burglar. Or just been damn lucky. Even then, they would have had a devil of a time keeping those newborns quiet till after they were gone. I can't explain it..."

The witches all looked at each other in bewilderment. Swift Coyote stared at the old lady with a stony face, looking for some sign that she might be twisting or omitting the truth. As far as he could tell, she was being forthright.

Though what she was saying made no sense.

There was something unique about the babies; that had already been established. Whoever was abandoning them must have been aware of this. But on one hand they were going to great pains to always leave the newborns in the exact same place and on the other, they didn't seem to care at all if the babies survived or not. These two factors simply didn't fit together.

It was clear that they would need more clues to solve the mystery.

"Tell me," Nina began, "While you were working up at the Arnford, did anything else ever happen that you thought was particularly bizarre? Perhaps even creepy?"

"Creepy?" Mrs. Harrigan scoffed, "I suppose you mean like the stories about the place being haunted?"

"What stories?" Swift Coyote asked.

"Oh, there was always this rumour among the staff that a ghost was haunting the place. People would say things like, 'they caught a glimpse of a figure disappearing into a shadow,' or, 'dashing around a corner,' or, 'making the curtains move.' Or they'd say that 'they were in a room all alone, but they felt a presence watching them.' Damn superstitious rubbish, if you ask me! Name me one old building in the United States that doesn't have it's own spook?" she responded with bitter distain. Nina smirked as she wondered how the cynical old lady would react if she knew she was in the presence of a practising witch coven.

"But... Now let me think..." Mrs. Harrigan said in a much less feisty tone, "Yes... Now that you mention it there were some odd deaths during my time there, three, if memory serves. As a matter of fact... I think one of them occurred in the small functions room."

"Where the babies were left?" Swift Coyote responded.

"That's right," the old lady confirmed.

"What was so unusual about them?" Levinia asked.

"You have to understand, that if you work in a large hotel long enough, you're bound to see a few people pass away there -- guests who are elderly, or ill when they arrive... But these three were healthy, young men.

"I discovered one of them myself, as a matter of fact. I think it was in 1904. I was making up guests' rooms one morning and that's how I found the poor fellow -- lying in bed, all shrivelled up like a dead flower," Mrs. Harrigan explained.

"Shrivelled up?" Demi repeated, surprised by the description. "How long had he been dead?"

"Well, that's just the thing," the old lady replied. "A dozen staff and guests had seen the fellow alive and kicking the night before, but when the doc' had a look at him he said the man looked like he'd been dead for a month! And it was exactly the same for the other two deaths."

Mrs. Harrigan hesitated for a moment before continuing, "And... there was another thing they all had in common. One of the gentlemen was wearing a pyjama top, if memory serves, but none were found wearing any pants. And the doc' said he could tell from the condition... of their..." She stalled from embarrassment and momentarily tried to express herself with subdued gestures towards her own loins. "...Private parts," she stammered, "that they had... been with a woman, when they died.

"Yes... now I remember! I heard the waiters joking once that there was a killer harlot in Holliston!"

The witches each took a sip of their coffee as they processed the new information. Already, their shrewd minds were busy formulating theories to explain the suspicious deaths. There was still a lot they didn't know, but they were beginning to understand what they were up against.

One thing they knew for sure -- 'The Arnford' had a significant link to the magical disturbance in the region.

CHAPTER IV: Arnford

"The Arnford" (Abandoned Resort Hotel), Holliston, NC

July 14^th, 1931, 9:16pm.

The Arnford stood near the edge of a wide plateau and overlooked most of Holliston below. From the town center, a quiet asphalt road offered easy passage up the gentle slope to the hotel.

As the witches made their way to the Arnford property with Swift Coyote, they began to notice their surroundings were plagued with death. The multitude of towering fir trees had lost all their leafs, leaving only their crooked branches to cast eerie shadows in the moonlight. The grass cover beside the road became sparse and eventually non-existent. Perched in the trees were dozens of owls, oddly shirking their natural tendency not to flock. They stared at Swift Coyote and the witches with their piercing eyes, as if considering whether they could take prey so large.

Not knowing what secrets lay hidden within the Arnford's walls, the party had dressed for any eventuality. The witches had re-donned their hooded casting robes, as there was no need to dress inconspicuously. Swift Coyote had discarded the stuffy garments of the western man and replaced them only with his traditional breechcloth and leggings. His toned, naked chest bore the same battle marks that his ancestors had painted upon themselves before great hunts.

They carried with them their entire luggage, hoping that the empty hotel would provide a hospitable shelter for the night. Each of the witches wore a backpack containing their few personal belongings. Nerine also carried a small suitcase that contained her potions and reagents. Levinia carried a suitcase containing some of the coven's precious magical relics. Swift Coyote carried nothing but his bow, quiver and hunting knife.

A short brick wall by the roadside, engraved with the words, "Welcome To The Arnford" indicated that the five companions were nearing their destination. Shortly afterwards, the Arnford itself rose up from the horizon, into their line of sight. It was a large building that varied between two and three stories in height. The bright white exterior stood out against the dark of night.

As the party drew closer to the building they realized that it was far older than they initially assumed. The outer wings of the hotel may have been recent additions, but for the most part, it seemed that the building had originally been built as a plantation manor, not a hotel. Judging from the style of the architecture, it may have been as old as the mid-18^th century.

The heavy doors of the main entrance, which had been conveniently left unlocked, groaned in protest as the witches pushed them open. Cautiously, they ventured into the darkness. The grand lobby they immediately found themselves in suggested that a thorough search of the hotel could well take them all night.

They found an adjoining pair of guestrooms on the ground floor and left their bags at the feet of the beds within. Then they began their explorations.

The entire building felt like it had been frozen in time. Throughout the communal areas were fancy vases, filled with wilted flowers. On the front desk, lonely pens layed beside empty inkwells. Most of the larger pieces of furniture were shrouded beneath ghostly white sheets, waiting patiently for the day when they could be of service to the hotel's numerous guests, once more. Nothing seemed to be missing -- save for the lively banter of its residents and the shine of the lavish chandeliers.

The witches and their warrior friend moved from room to room, keeping their minds open for anything that felt unusual. Before long, they found themselves standing before a set of panelled double doors. On one door was a plaque, "Functions Room B." This was where the Harrigans had discovered all those babies. Nerine, whose sharp intuition had unconsciously guided the party to this place, drew a deep breath to calm herself. Then she reached for the brass door handle and turned...

The doors swung inward with absolute silence to reveal an unremarkable room beyond. Fifteen feet wide, thirty feet long, with a well-polished hardwood floor. It was an unusually lofty chamber, with a lancet-arched ceiling that peaked about three stories off the ground. A long, solid-looking banquet table, lined with about 16 matching chairs was the focus of the chamber. At the far end was a short stage, elevated about three feet above the rest of the floor. On the wall behind it were three huge stained-glass windows, which let in the faint glow of the moonlit sky outside.

Nerine was the first to step inside the room, followed by Levinia and Nina, then Demi and finally, Swift Coyote. Each witch shuddered fiercely as she passed through the doorway.

"The curse is strong here," Demi remarked in a sorrowful tone.

"What makes you think that?" Swift Coyote asked.

"Are you cold?" She inquired.

"No," he answered.

"Are the hairs on your arms standing on end?" She countered. Swift Coyote ran his fingers over his forearm and indeed felt the fine brushing of many erect hairs. Demi didn't need him to respond -- she already knew what his answer would be. "It's the body's way of telling you that the room is cursed. Witches are especially in tune to such things."

As if pulled by some unseen tether, Nerine paced rapidly along the side of the table, then stopped abruptly at the far end. Her companions followed, at a less urgent pace.

"This is it!" She declared, pointing at a very specific point on the floor. "This is the epicenter of the entire curse. The source of all that ill will we saw amongst the townsfolk today... and the dark energy that created the manifestation in Applebury."

"So... This place is the source of the curse?" Swift Coyote repeated, "What does that mean? Do we have to destroy the hotel?"

"No, The ground here would remain cursed, no matter what happened to the building. In fact, the curse would probably feed off the mindless destruction," Nerine explained. "The damage can only be mended with ritual magic."

"Wait..." Swift Coyote almost chuckled, hardly believing how simple Nerine was making it sound. "You mean that all you girls need to do to fix this is cast a spell?"

"Not that simple," Nina lamented, shaking her head.

"Think of a curse as a disease upon the spiritual veil that binds the world together," Levinia began. "Just like with any physical disease, you can't pick out the right medicine until you know what you're dealing with. We need to understand the nature of the curse... how it was cast and the motivation behind it, before we can tailor a ritual to undo the sickness."

"I'm willing to bet that there are answers somewhere in this building," Nina remarked.

"Yes... There is something else here... Something... hidden... waiting," Nerine agreed. She seemed to be mesmerized by the floorboards at the curse's center in a way that concerned her four companions.

"Let's keep searching," Nina suggested after a second of awkward silence.

"Something... cold..." Nerine continued muttering to herself. "Something... dangerous..." She shook her head gently as she broke free from a telepathic trance.

Nina marched over to the massive table and waved a hand through the air in a single, brisk motion. Small flames flared to life upon each of the three silver candelabras on the table.

"Here," she said, passing a candelabra each to Levinia, Demi and Swift Coyote. "Use these for light."

"What are we looking for?" Swift Coyote asked.

"We'll know it when we see it," Nina replied, immediately realizing how unhelpful the answer was. "Look for something that seems like its keeping a dreadful secret. Trust your instincts," she advised with a smile. Her lover returned her smile and nodded.

The five companions left the functions room in single file. As they proceeded down the adjoining hallway, towards the accomodation wings, a current of frosty air spilled from the open doorway of the functions room and snaked through the shadows, following the intruders at a distance.

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"The Arnford" (Abandoned Resort Hotel), Holliston, NC

July 14^th, 1931, 9:59pm.

After carefully inspecting the umpteenth guest suite in a row, the four hooded witches turned towards the exit and left. Swift Coyote followed, only a few steps behind Levinia. He was at the doorway of the fully furnished suite, just about to leave, when he felt a cold breeze rush across the backs of his ankles. He whirled around with speed that did credit to his name, causing the flames on his candelabra to flicker violently. But he saw nothing... at least, not until his candlelight was steady once more.

In his peripheral vision, he noticed something out-of-place. Beneath the large white sheet draped over the suite's lone double bed was a bulge. Resting right in the center of the bed, it ran almost all the way from the headboard to the foot of the frame.

The general shape of the mound looked an awful lot like a covered human body.

Swift Coyote could scarcely believe his eyes. He had just inspected the room with his witch friends and he could've sworn that the bulge hadn't been there a second ago.

Slowly, cautiously, he approached the mysterious mound. Like an expert hunter, his footsteps didn't make a sound. As he stopped beside the unsettling form on the bed, the warrior reached for the edge of the white sheet. He slowly peeled the cover back to reveal what layed beneath...

A blanket.

A blanket that had been rolled up and left lying in the middle of the mattress by the hotel staff.

Or had it?

He was certain the bulge hadn't been there earlier. In fact, when he thought about it, he distinctly recalled the rolled-up blanket lying horizontally across the foot of the bed, just like in every other room they had examined.

"Trust your instincts," Nina had advised him earlier. Well, right now Swift Coyote's instincts were telling him that there was something unnatural here -- in this room! After eyeballing the exposed section of the blanket and deciding that there was nothing special about it, Swift Coyote slipped his hand beneath it and lightly pressed against the mattress.

His grandfather had taught him ways to listen to the spirits of the departed. Swift Coyote couldn't sense any spirits inhabiting the room. But when he touched the mattress he tapped into an 'impression' -- an event so powerful that it burned a memory into the objects around it.

In his mind's eye, Swift Coyote saw a young white man, surrounded by darkness. He called himself Ernest Skylar; he was a merchant who had come here for hospitality. He was dying... No! He was being killed! Swift Coyote could feel the terror of the man's final seconds. He couldn't breathe... he was cold... so very cold... the blood in his veins turned to stagnant sludge. The man's lifeforce was wrenched out of his body -- violently.

When the vision ended, Swift Coyote removed his hand from beneath the blanket... to find his fingers crawling with maggots! He could see now that there was a large infestation of them squirming beneath the rolled-up blanket!

Surprised, but not alarmed, Swift Coyote gently brushed the tiny creatures off on to the blanket. They were, after all, fellow children of the earth, no less than himself or the mighty trees.

The vision he'd experienced revealed that a man had died in this room, under traumatic circumstances. Odds were that he was one of those suspicious deaths that Mrs. Harrigan had mentioned earlier.

Nina and the others would want to know about this discovery. Swift Coyote went looking for his friends -- they'd only just left the suite so they couldn't have gone far. He stuck his head out into the hallway and looked to the left.

"Nina! Levinia!" he called, in a regular speaking volume, assuming that the witches were still close by. No answer. A barely audible sound, like a gust of wind, came from the opposite direction. Swift Coyote turned just in time to see a slender, feminine leg disappearing behind a corner.