The Ghost of Crutchfield Hall by Mary Downing Hahn Page A

face. “You’re not Sophia,” he whispered, “but you’re wearing her dress and your hair is like hers. When I saw you in the shadows by the door, I was certain . . .”
    He lay back against the pillows, his face as white as the sheets tumbled about him. “You frightened me.”
    â€œI’m so very, very sorry. I didn’t mean to, but Sophia—”
    â€œDo you see her too?” he interrupted, his eyes wide with surprise. “I thought I was the only one.”
    â€œShe made me wear her dress, she fixed my hair, she sent me here . . .” I clenched my fists in vexation. “Please forgive me, James. She, she . . .”
    I looked warily around the room. Was Sophia hiding in the corner by the wardrobe? Was she watching from behind the curtains?
    James looked at me. “You’re afraid of her too.”
    â€œShe terrifies me. She could be here, she could be there, she could be anywhere.”
    James took my hands in his small ones. “Not here. We’re safe in my room,” he said. “She can’t cross the threshold.”
    â€œEverywhere I go, she goes. The house, the garden. I can’t get away from her.” I shuddered and continued to search the corners for signs of Sophia.
    James shook his head. “Spratt made a charm and hid it over my door. As long as it’s there, she can’t come in.”
    â€œSpratt made a charm?” I stared at my cousin, thinking I’d misunderstood him. “What sort of a charm?”
    â€œSince you come from London,” James said, “I doubt you believe in potions and charms and such, but Spratt’s mother was a healer. And so was her mother and her mother before her and so on, back and back in time. She taught Spratt all she knew, including the making of charms to ward off evil.”
    Not sure what I believed, I looked at him, huddled under blankets and propped up on pillows, trusting in a charm to protect him from his own sister. His dead sister.
    I moved nearer to him, fearful of the shadows around us. “What can Sophia actually do to harm you? We
see
her, we
hear
her, but she doesn’t have a real body.”
    Fixing me with the same blue eyes we all had, James sat up straight and leaned closer to me. “Sophia doesn’t need to be flesh and blood. Haven’t you felt the cold touch of her hand? Hasn’t she influenced you?” He paused and added, “Was it your idea to come to my room? Did you want to do it, or did she make you?”
    My silence answered for me.
    James lay back against his pillow, but he kept his eyes on me. “My sister has no body. She’s never hungry. She’s never tired. She’s never sick. She’s free to concentrate all her energy on one thing and one thing only. It’s all she wants, and she’s determined to have it.”
    He closed his eyes for a moment as if talking about Sophia’s strength had exhausted his own. The room was so silent, the very air seemed to hold its breath.
    â€œWhat does she want?” I whispered.
    James looked at me then, his face as pale as the pillow. “She wants me to die.” His voice was flat and dull, his eyes almost as lifeless as Sophia’s.
    â€œShe can’t hate you that much. It’s unnatural, it’s wicked, it’s—”
    â€œYou don’t understand.” James’s voice rose until he was almost shouting. “It’s my fault she’s dead. I killed her. I didn’t mean to, but I did. And now she wants to kill me.”
    â€œHow could you have killed her?” I asked. “You’re younger and smaller than she is. You—”
    â€œI don’t want to talk any more,” James cried. “I’m tired and need to rest—you’ve overexcited me. Go away!”
    Confused by the change in his behavior, I reached out to comfort him, but he swung at me, striking me with his fists, not