My eye keeps trailing back to the soot pattering into the grate. For a moment it looks as though the hollow of the fireplace is filled with a blackness so rich it has become a living thing, a bloated shadow grasping for the light. I blink, wiping sweat from beneath my eyes. I feel nauseous. Acid rises in my throat. The tape must be corrupted, I tell myself, plucking at the hem of my shirt, it has to be, because that darkness appears to be swelling and bulging as though it is pushing through a membrane.
“Why is she still sitting there?” I hear my voice, plaintive. “Can’t she see it? Why doesn’t shemove?”
Sam doesn’t respond and after a moment I see why. Alice’s face is turning slowly toward the camera, only it isn’t Alice’s face anymore, it has—changed, somehow. Her eyes droop as if her face is wax left to soften in the sun. I almost scream when I seeher smile, the corners of her lips pulled desperately upward as if by fishhooks. Her skin is oily and yellowy-white, eyes stunned-looking, witless.Rattling teeth in an empty, eyeless head,I think hysterically, and the darkness filling the hearth looks about to burst like a blackened, rotting fruit and there is a sound then, a noise on the tape like thewhumphof ignition and the footage abruptly ends.
I realize I am digging my nails into the fabric of the chair, hands hooked into claws. I force myself to breathe, taking in big gulps of air as I turn to look at Sam with wide, wondering eyes.
“Did you see that? Did you see her change? Holy shit, Sam!”
Sam lights a cigarette, tipping his head back to blow smoke at the ceiling. I’m fidgety, feeling as though someone has put firecrackers under my chair. I keep seeing the way that Alice turned her head, the absent, mindless look in her eyes, as if all sense were knocked out of her. It’s chilling.
“Did that look like a fit to you, Mina? Some sort of seizure, maybe?”
“No. No, it didn’t, although without more footage it’s hard to say one way or the other.”
“I can rewind it. Freeze-frame.”
“No,” I say immediately, with real feeling. The idea of looking at that face static on the screen, flesh sagging and somehow wet-looking, makes my stomach hurt. “But I need to speak to Alice. Where is she? Is she okay? What did she say when you asked her what happened? We should be writing all this down.”
“You can’t talk to her, Mina.” His voice is flat, eyes dark and almost pained. “They won’t let you, remember?”
“But we’re so close, Sam!”
Sam sighs and rubs at his temples. He looks frustrated andtired and strung out and I don’t blame him. I stare at him, thinking. I need to put this right.
I hear voices behindthe kitchen door as I enter the hallway. The low rumble of a man speaking, the clink of coffee cups. I hesitate as I raise my fist to knock, tapping lightly, but loud enough to be heard, and push the door open as Lisa’s voice calls out, “Come in!”
It’s Bert I see first, standing at the sink. He is clean shaven but looks tired, with pouches beneath his bloodshot eyes, a slight tremor in the hand holding his cup. He glances at me with his chin lifted, face flat and without affect, giving nothing away. Paul is leaning against the fridge with his arms folded, hands tucked beneath his armpits. It’s a shock to see him after a night working on the killing floor—his mouth chiseled into a hard, straight line, face gray and gaunt. His eyes are dark, hard glints of metal. Iron nails in wood. Lisa sits smoking at the table with her hair scraped back from a face which is taut and shiny. Her gaze flickers coldly as she looks me up and down. Beside her is Alice, her features mostly hidden beneath the long curtains of her hair. I experience a sensation then, like I am floating out of my body, as I remember the way her flesh distorted in the video, becoming rubbery and soft. For a moment no one speaks. The open door stirs the smoke hanging in the still air. I catch that scent again, of iron and minerals and thick, clotted blood.
“Mina.” Bert’s voice is hoarse and dry. “I thought you’d be packing by now. Long drive home.”
“I just wanted to explain.” I hear my voice creeping up an octave. It’s nerves. I don’t like the feeling in this room or the jolt of anxiety in my chest. “My intention was never to upset you, Bert,and I shouldn’t have gone into your bedroom without permission. I hope you understand that I did so only out of concern for Mary.”
Paul grunts indistinctly but when I look at him he glances away. Bert smiles, however, speaking gently.
“Be that as it may, Mina, the damage is done. Trust is delicate, and easily broken, after all. How can you ask this family to trust you with their daughter when you can’t even be trusted to follow instructions?”
“I never meant for any of this to happen, Bert. I was just trying to help.”
“Yet Alice is still suffering and I find myself a widower. Three people have died since your arrival, Mina. I think you’ve helped enough.”
Bert’s voice is wary as he sets down his cup.
“With all due respect, Bert, Mary was very sick.”
“Yes, she was, wasn’t she? But with her new medication the doctor said he thought there were a few more good years in her at least. She wasn’t ready to die, certainly not yet.”
“She was asking for help, Bert. She was tapping on the wall.”
I can feel tears breaching my eyelids, making my vision shimmer. I try to blink them away as Bert continues. “The only help my wife required was peace and rest, as I believe I told you more than once. I failed in my duty to her, but I don’t intend to fail in my duty to Alice.”
“Oh? What duty is that?” There is a tremor in my voice and Bert smiles as he hears it.
“We need to break the spell.” Lisa’s voice is hard and cold. It shocks me, how different she sounds to the woman who stood in the bathroom last night, saying“I just want to save my daughter, Mina.”
“A Riddance, Mina.” Bert is moving to the table, behindAlice’s chair. I think suddenly of the gravelly voice on Sam’s Dictaphone, the writing outside on the pavement.GoodRiddance. GoodRiddance. GoodRiddance.
“Are you joking?”