Legacy

Left to think for a moment, a suspicion started to pour through in a jumble as her head cleared. When he returned and offered her the first spoonful, she spoke it aloud. "The chocolate's drugged, isn't it? Just like the flask?"

Sean shrugged "Drugged is such a loaded word. Let's say supplemented, shall we?"

Rowan snorted. "Three hundred years of creative apothecary. That's a bit of an edge, isn't it?"

Sean offered her a spoonful. "Trust me. It's good for you. You've undergone a dementor attack, remember?"

"There's probably a clause about accepting chocolate from a dementor."

"Probably, but you still need it, don't you? My kitchen. My supplementation. How many options do you think you have here?"

She considered that solemnly. Then asked "What's in the chocolate?"

He took a taste. "A little bit of vanilla bean and Kirsch."

"Nothing else?"

"Some chocolate, I think." His smile was teasing and he offered the spoon again.

"I am so screwed." She reached for the spoon but her hand was shaking. He dragged up a chair to feed her himself.

"Tell me about supplementation, please, Sean."

He continued to feed her until he was scraping the last bits from the bowl. "Three hundred years of herbalism, scientific development, discovery. My ancestors are well versed in behavior modification through food, scent, sound, touch. So much of it is for the comfort of guests. The vanilla bean and Kirsch type. There are subliminal soundtracks playing in each room, setting a mood. There are therapeutic botanical grace notes and aromatherapy in every dish of food and every cosmetic concoction. It's all part of hospitality and comfort. However, it also makes people very suggestible. It's easier for my forebears to take advantage."

She coughed. "Advantage? Hijacking someone's life entirely is taking advantage?"

He shrugged. "I've always lived here, I don't know any other way to be. My family comes first. Come walk with me."

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Wasp Invades a Spider and Puts It to Work

Here lives an orb-weaving spider, so called because of the perfect roundness of the web it industriously rebuilds every day. A serious hazard of the spider's busy life is that it is hunted by an ichneumon, or parasitic wasp. If the wasp's attack is successful, it temporarily paralyzes the spider and lays an egg on the tip of its abdomen, where it is out of reach.

For two weeks the spider spins its web and catches insects every day as if nothing were amiss, except for the growing larva that clings to its belly and sucks the juices that drip through small punctures it makes in the spider's body wall.

So far this is just the usual grim script of parasitism. But then comes a strange twist. The night before the wasp larva kills its host, it somehow induces the spider to build a most unusual web. Instead of a delicate orb, the zombified spider constructs two stout silk cables with thick cross-braces in between. This durable platform stands up to wind and rain better than the spider's ephemeral web. The wasp larva then kills the spider, and spins its cocoon on the platform constructed for it, safe from the ants that patrol the ground below.

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Dressed warmly enough for the weather, they walked out toward the greenhouse. He gave her a tour of the lush aisles of green. He pointed out local plants. A sample of ergot gathered from rye crops. Ergot was used to stop bleeding of childbirth and pain, but misused caused convulsions, death, hallucinations. Aconite was used as a pain reliever. Another fatal drug if prepared incorrectly. Belladonna, an herbal form of atropine. Most of them had been replaced by modern methods. But many of the herbs grown here were still part of everyday culinary and housekeeping practice on site. Certain concoctions, like the in his flask, weren't widely in use and he explained it was difficult to order something for possession sickness.

In Corrine's time, knowledge and use of these components and their usage were life savers and highly specialized. Unfortunately now all part of witch hunter history. Possession and use of herbs surrounding childbirth issues, particularly relieving pain, was enough to convict and condemn. The Bible was clear. Sean quoted the passage that condemned Corrine to death.

Unto the woman He said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children; and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee." Genesis 3:16.

Toward the back of the greenhouse there was a separate building. Inside it were insect cages. He walked her through, pointing out certain species. "Corrine was fascinated with the plants and insects here. She was a midwife and began to use some of the insects she found to ease childbirth, to heal. Some were crushed for vapor, or eaten. Now we know they had neuroleptic and neurotoxic effects. She is good at knowing what plant, what insect, what animal, were good for certain situations. She's still good at it. It's why she chose you." He paused a moment to look at Rowan before continuing.

He resumed his story. "There was a woman on the grounds who worked in the fields. Her birth went wrong when Corrine was in attendance. The mother and the baby, a little boy, died. From what I gather it sounds from accounts like the mother had Rh- blood factor and that was fatal to both. It's a blood type conflict that makes a mother's immune system attack the child through the umbilical cord at birth. That's treated now with blood tests and RhoGAM. There was nothing she could have done, but Corrine was crushed and blamed it on herself. She refused to speak. She refused to act. When Ethan tried to talk to her about the incident she sewed her own lips shut in protest and penance, refusing to be forgiven. Horrified, he removed the bindings, but she sewed them shut again. She refused to eat, refused to sleep. He had her restrained and tried to help her heal, forgive or understand, but she wouldn't respond to anything he tried. She wouldn't cooperate. He watched over her helplessly as exhaustion combined with lack of food, transforming the serene healer he'd married into a woman he no longer recognized, an embodiment of sickness and condemnation.

They had an 18-year-old son named Eli. They'd spent a lifetime of building this place together, caring for the people on the land, caring for the land itself. Even after that, nobody believed a woman would harm herself, and Ethan was blamed for torturing her. Their own son didn't understand, and tried to rescue her from the restraints. Think of this moment from her point of view. She believed her own son and her husband to hate her as she hated herself. She went with Eli willingly. It was what she thought she deserved for being evil, for being a murderess. She took her son's hand silently and willingly as he led her out of the manor, into the stable. He thought to take her away to safety. She knew something else awaited her."

He stared out a window and tapped his foot to the ground, saying "This greenhouse is over the foundations of the old stable. In that stable, instead of escape, he found a mob. They'd been betrayed by the stable lad who had been proud of knowing he was to prepare a horse for the mistress in secret. The lad had told his parents, who gathered those on the grounds who held a grudge. Ethan was in the manor and when he saw the flames, he came to the stable to discover his wife writhing in agony in the fire. Lips still sewn shut, silent. He threw himself into the blaze to save her, but it was too late, and they both died together. Fused together, in fact."

Rowan stood with tears running down her face, pale and trembling.

Ethan continued quietly. "It wasn't over. As you might have noticed, they didn't stay dead.. Corrine and Ethan returned moments after their bodies died. Ethan discovered Eli had been hit over the head and was bleeding into the straw in a locked stall. Eli had tried to save Corrine, but that's what he got for his attempt. In that moment Ethan discovered he could possess the living. He possessed his son and managed to get Eli back to the manor through sheer will. Blood loss and possession sickness nearly killed Eli anyway, but Corrine and Ethan wouldn't allow anyone near him to do him further harm. Ethan possessed the mob one by one and used them to nurse his son back to health. Corrine would find the herbs and Ethan would deliver them. Body after body of the previous inhabitants of this place would fall dead in place from exhaustion and Ethan would move on to the next available live victim. He went through every person he recalled at that gathering, and used them until he was finished with them. He ultimately killed everyone here, even those who had no part in it, he blamed them for not saving her."

Sean took her hand and led her out into the sun. Rowan stepped out in a daze, beyond the edges of the greenhouse building out into a clearing. Cold autumn sunlight spilled into a landscaped clearing, the center of which held a wishing well. The brick was dark, the color of ash, as was the mortar. "Eli was the only person who survived that night. Everyone else was used to dig and build this well. This was the spot where the stake and pyre had burned Ethan and Corrine beyond this life. All the bodies were gathered to this spot, and then used, along with the ash from the fire, the earth from the hole, the rye from the fields, to mix into brick and mortar. Blood and bone and ash. A memorial to that grisly night."

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Weblink:

Mudang can be classified into two general types, god-descended and hereditary shaman, depending on how they received their abilities and training. God-descended, like many of their Siberian counterparts, become inflicted with "possession sickness," which has been likened to acute schizophrenia. These otherwise normal people suddenly become physically weakened, meditative and dreamy, have prophetic dreams, seek solitude, and sometimes suffer seizures that render them unconscious. And the shamanic call is not volitional, being followed by spiritual encounters within their dreams that display or demand the transformation. Unless the ill person drops any previous occupation and seeks to become a shaman, the mysterious sickness will continue indefinitely, often increasing with time and occasionally resulting in death. Moreover, if the new mudang chooses at anytime throughout the course of their lives to abandon the profession, the illness immediately returns.

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When Sean stopped speaking, Rowan reached out a hand to touch the wishing well. Tentatively at first, as if it would shock or burn her, and then she curled both hands around the top edge until her knuckles whitened.

She spoke quickly, her words like the surge at the top of a waterfall. Through panic and what she thought was revelation her words became weightless, suspended, breaking apart, falling fast. "Sean, that's what we need to do then. This is where their remains are, you need to tear this well down. Then they'd be free. That's what she wants me to do, set her free. That's got to be it." She started to dig her fingernails into the mortar, making no impact other than breaking her nails.

Sean spoke her name in a sharp warning and grabbed her hands off the well. He held her while she thrashed, ultimately twisting her until her spine was pressed against his chest. He held her arms crossed over her breasts with his hands while she struggled. He was busy trying to warn her, restrain her safely, but she was panicked and beyond reason. With this new idea in her head, wanting to tear the well down brick by brick, a mission so clear to her, he was nothing but an obstacle. She stomped her heel down hard and heard one or more of the bones in his foot crunch. He swore and dropped to his knees to avoid another incident and simultaneously protect his broken toes, balance and leverage. This was timely as she also swung back with her head in attempt to break his nose.

His shift in weight wrenched her arms down and at the angle they were held, off balance from the swing of her head, she gave with gravity and his weight rather than have her arms broken or her shoulders dislocated. With her knees under her and her arms trapped, she still tried to struggle, but without much effect. Ethan was trying to hold her still and call her name, get her attention, warn her, but she wasn't listening, still trying to reach the well.

She wrenched one of her arms free and touched the well. The hair on the back of her neck pricked up and with the advent of cold, the presence of Corrine was announced by a piercing shriek. Rowan was face to ethereal face with an enraged Corrine. Corrine's expression was twisted, feral, with her beauty beginning to melt with the flickering of orange flame making ash of the blue-white wisps of her image.

Terrified, Rowan tried to scramble back, and Sean attempted to crawl forward, trying to shield Rowan from Corrine. Corrine was distracted for a moment by Sean, her visage cooling again and reforming, inspecting his foot, assessing the damage. Quick as a thrown dart, Corrine was hovering over Rowan's terrified form, and meeting her eyes. Unable to look further, Rowan closed her eyes. Her eyelids were peeled back as if moved by chilled fingers and were held painfully open, tears coursing down her cheeks. With Corrine staring her down, Rowan's foot began to echo the crunch of Sean's, the feeling of bones shattering and sharp pain making her scream. This pain blotted out all other sensations or input, and was endless. Time ceased to exist and the pain saturated every thought, every impulse, until she was doing nothing but sitting still, cowering, forced to stare and feel the pain blossom, screams fading to whimpers because any effort, including screaming, even breathing or thinking, made it all hurt more.

A new strain of pain started to twine through her nervous system, one of burning, added to the broken. She felt as if her toes were sizzling, skin splitting and fat and flesh popping into gouts of fuel for spitting flames.

Only a few real seconds had passed, though the pain subjectively had wiped Rowan's mind of any thoughts, leaving only despair, panic and pain. The mood broke and Corrine wavered when Sean managed to reach Rowan's side.

Ethan was shouting "Stop! She was trying to help. Stop, please. She thought you wanted to be free. She thought you wanted her to release you. Please." His voice softened as he drew more of Corrine's attention away from Rowan.

The ghost of Ethan appeared in coils of silver bonds and black smoke, speaking to Corrine softly and distracting her while Rowan's pain receded. Ethan's voice and Sean's voice both tried to reason with Corrine while they ranged themselves between Rowan's body and Corrine's vengeful form, asking her to understand.

Sean stood on his hurt foot, lifting Rowan into his arms. "Please don't hurt her." Sean said clearly. "It's my fault I got hurt. She doesn't understand."

Corrine's expression reformed into a beautiful, ethereal face, childlike and confused. Corrine looked to Ethan, whose appearance had transformed into a handsome man, love the most solid feature of his transparent form. He spoke softly "Corrine, love, it's all right. Everything is all right, I promise."

Ethan stepped to Sean and Rowan, shaking his head and throwing off silver sparks and black smoke with each motion. "Miss Knapp. I do believe I told you not to undo what had been done. That includes this well, any other part of the Manor grounds or Sean's body parts. Am I clearer?"

Rowan indicated it was clear through her exhaustion by a weak nod. Satisfied, Ethan returned to Corrine, and drew her away.

Sean carefully slid down the side of the well, with his back braced against his good foot, favoring the one hurt. Rowan was still in his arms and he tried to keep her protected from being jarred. "Ow. Rowan, find that flask, will you? My arms are occupied."

Rowan searched with trembling fingers and found the flask, trying to unscrew it, but failing with her hands shaking so badly.

He sighed and took it from her, resettling her against his chest so he could use his hands to unscrew the top. He held it for her as she gratefully took a few sips, then slumped against his chest while he took his own sips.

Rowan was too frightened to look at her own foot, afraid what she might see. But the pain receded completely over time, and she reached down to pull off her boot and sock. Nothing. Her foot was fine.

Sean however was unimpressed. "That's nice. I'm going to have to cut my own boot off. It's not going to be that easy."

Rowan stammered "But it was broken, Corrine broke it and then set it on fire...I swear."

Sean shook his head. "She didn't. She only made you feel what I was feeling. And then she lost her temper, and things get very hot then."

Rowan was horrified. "If that's what your toes feel like, I'm so sorry."

Sean looked around "And room service is gone. We're going to have to walk back."

Rowan started to cry and apologize for the injuring him, until Sean put a finger to her lips and stopped her babbling. "It's not your fault. You did what you thought you were supposed to do. I know you're overwhelmed and this is too much to take in and there's very little I can do to help. But let me do what I know how to do. I understand. Let it go."

Rowan calmed down and tried to concentrate on breathing. She leaned back against his chest and listened to his racing heart beat slow down, willing hers to slow down with it.

Sean started to laugh. "You were, what? Going to remove the entire well brick by brick? What the hell?"

She sighed. "I had a very bad day. I don't think I'm entirely sane. I'm very sorry."

Sean snorted "You think? What was that? You sounded like a Scooby Doo episode."

She started to laugh herself, embarrassed, "I was trying for "Supernatural" They always burn the remains of the ghost and then the ghost is gone."

Sean started to laugh harder. "That's a TV show. Fiction, you know?"

Her voice rose in her own defense "I didn't know that! This is my first ghost story!"

His laughter died down, not soon, but eventually. Then he said "That's a charming notion, I'm sure, but these people were burned to death. There really wasn't much left but ash. None of that "center of power" or "remains" bullshit has any bearing here. My family is here by choice. By will. They're not tied here by anything, they're here because they want something. They don't want to be free. They want to be relevant."

Rowan asked softly "And what do you want?"

Sean thought a moment. "Now there's a question rarely asked. When I was a kid I wanted to be an astronaut."

Rowan smiled against his chest. :"You would have made a great astronaut. But what do you want now?"

His head tilted back against the well rim and he thought again. "There are so many things I can't have. Childhood things, like being an astronaut, are easier to put aside. Some things are more complicated. The most obvious answer would be to want to have free will, be able to walk off the grounds here. But that's not exactly what I want either. I'm part of the land, part of the life here. It's a good life, an excellent life, even. I get to see many people with the free will to step on and off the property. Often when they make it here after growing up out there, they're already broken. People come here to fix their lives, fix their relationships, and some of them are incapable of ever doing so. I'm grateful for my destiny in a way. I'm healthy, I'm reasonably happy, and you will not believe the benefits of vigilant undead guardians. When Corrine notices someone, sometimes it's because they mean this place harm. Theft or vandalism, harming another guest or staff. When I first met you I didn't know for sure. Scaring people early is a good way to get them to leave before Corrine does it. You don't plan to knock over the joint, do you?"