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Madeline bent down to pick up her black parasol. She removed her black lace glove from her left hand and proceeded to clean the dirt and mud off the wooden tip. Madeline flicked opened the umbrella and placed it on her right shoulder, returning the lace glove to her hand. She spun the parasol around a few times.

“My father taught me that I should never continue to pay for someone’s services when I can buy them once and use it forever.”

She proceeded back through the woods the way she came.

“What should we call it? Madeline? Sinclairsville? Something else?”

Madeline paused, never turning back to acknowledge his question directly. She twirled the parasol in her hands. Her mind wandered through various names, but it kept returning to one. She glanced over her shoulder, slightly turning to face Russell. A smile on her face.

“Newbury,” she replied. “Newbury Grove. A fitting name for my new neighborhood.”

Stave Two

THE GHOST OF HUGO DODDS

Chapter 1

Daily Mourning Ritual

3:30 a.m. The witching hour.

The alarm clock bathed Alice’s face in the soft orange of its digital glow. Alice was no stranger to the witching hour. She thrived in it more than the stereotypical meaning of the hour. She should be flying in the late November night. Flying on her broomstick and taking in the perfect, whitish-blue glow of the moon. The eerie calm. The peace. The serenity. Instead, sleep eluded her.

The numbers teased and tormented her as they changed. 3:31 a.m.

It had been a week since Hugo died. Every time she closed her eyes, his contorted face glaring down at her returned. She lived out the moment of his death over and over. The painful moment the wooden stake stabbed into his heart and he turned to ash. Alice was responsible. She was the reason Hugo was gone. The reason she was alone once again.

Alice purchased the clock for Hugo. The white, circular clock which glowed and bathed the sleeper in a soft light meant to simulate sunrise right before it buzzed. The purpose was to reset the body’s internal rhythm, so it would gradually awaken and not be startled out of a deep slumber by the high-pitched alarm.

Alice didn’t purchase the clock to ease Hugo out of his nightly slumber. It was to remind him of the light of the sun, so he could hold on to the small bit of humanity remaining in his vampiric body. A body, once transformed, condemned to live in darkness.

Alice clutched her pillow, scrunching the corner in the palm of her hand. A tear in her eye. The clock was another reminder of how her inability to deal with her past had ruined the only person who cared about who she was, not what she could do. It was Alice’s fault Hugo became a vampire. Her actions led to Hugo dying on top of her. Alice was responsible for losing the only person she truly loved and who loved her in return—her Hugo.

3:32 a.m.

Alice rolled over in the black canopy bed. She tucked the bedsheets closer above her shoulders. She clutched the pillow lying next to her closer to her chest. She draped a leg over the bottom, fully encompassing it in her body. The pillowcase was replaced by one of Hugo’s worn black T-shirts. His cologne and scent still permeated in the cloth. The smell of vanilla and cedar.

Alice closed her eyes and breathed deep, taking in the last remaining scents of Hugo’s existence. Her heart fluttered. She allowed herself to smile. A half-smile betrayed her recent morose attitude. Her fingers dug into the pillow, drawing it closer to her. She wished and prayed, trying to think of any magical spell to transform the pillow into Hugo, even for a fleeting moment. Her body yearned to hold him once more.

Her knowledge failed her. Throughout all her research, all her magical abilities, the spells required one key component to bring back the dead—a body. The body of Hugo had turned to ash and was no more. The curse of the vampire. When stabbed in the heart by something which once bled, they would become ash and cease to exist.

Alice’s smile dissipated. A tear fell down her cheek and onto his T-shirt. A cold chill ran through her. She desired nothing more than to be held by Hugo. Hugged by Hugo. Satiated by Hugo.

Alice kept her eyes shut tight, trying to fall asleep. She counted backward from one hundred, but when she reached zero, sleep eluded her. The ghostly image of Hugo Dodds tormented her mind throughout the night.

Alice rolled over, her feet touching the cold hardwood floor. She rose from the mattress, still holding her makeshift stuffed animal. Alice proceeded to the bathroom, careful not to disturb Max sleeping on a blanket at the foot of the bed. Even with Hugo gone, Max slept in her usual spot on the floor. She gave up protesting sleeping in the bed with Hugo and Alice long ago. Two’s company. Three’s a crowd.

“Still can’t sleep?” Alice’s reflection asked as she walked into the bathroom.

“The bed’s too soft,” Alice replied.

“You better hurry up and fall asleep. You only have two more hours before I wake you up and tell you to get back to work. I decided to give you an extra hour tonight. You could use it.”

“How generous,” Alice said.

She bent down and laid out on the black and white tile flooring with the T-shirt covered pillow tucked under her head. The flooring chilled her exposed, bare legs as she settled onto her side to face the mirror. She curled into a ball on the floor, tucking her legs in close for comfort and warmth.

“I see you still have your new stuffed animal,” Alice’s reflection said.