Once they had restored the manor to its former glory with the broom and Mrs. Macabre had tended to her wound from the plant, they buried Elvira several yards away from the house. They had decided that, instead of a coffin, placing her in her bed along with her food bowl and her favorite ball of yarn was just as she would've wanted it. After they had made the grave and lowered her in, they could only stand in silence, thinking of the right words to say.
"She was a good kitty," Mrs. Macabre finally said in a soft voice. She waved the broom above the grave and the ground swallowed it. Orange leaves blew over it like offerings of condolences from the Hallowland.
"The Reaper," Jane said. "He told me that someone close to me would die. I just- I didn't know-" she began to cry. "This is all my fault!"
"What ever do you mean, dear?" Mrs. Macabre asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"The Widow," she said through tears. "The Widow came to me and said that I shouldn't trust you. That you were dangerous. That, if you kept us any longer, we-we might die. But she lied! She lied and I fell for it!" She shook with anger.
"Oh, Jane. Don't do this to yourself. The truth is, I haven't been honest with you."
"What do you mean?" She sniffed.
Mrs. Macabre bent down, so that she met her eyes. "You see, the Weeping Widow went after you to get to me because, well, because she once was me."
"I don't understand," Catie chimed in, looking just as confused as her sister and Jack were, "what do you mean was you?"
"When I was still with my wife," she sighed, "our life together was very much similar to the one that I have now. As both of us were skilled in magic, we would use the Art to help others. Be it fixing houses, healing the sick, or baking sweets," she smiled at the memory. "We would even sometimes let children join us. Children like yourselves who felt misunderstood and alone. Who loved the darker, spookier side of the world. Until, one day, I failed to save a child that was traveling with us and I-" she paused. "I became someone else. I let the grief, self-hatred, and doubt take over me and I became darker than who I was. I lashed out. I hurt others, wanting them to experience the pain that I felt in order to make myself somehow feel better about what happened. But it didn't. It only darkened my heart more, until finally. . . My wife left me.."
Jack gasped in shock. "Oh, Mrs. Macabre, how horrible!"
"I never saw her again," she said sadly. "That is when I realized that, should I continue on the path that I was taking, it would only lead to more death and loneliness until I myself was dead. And that is no way to live. Life should be about sharing your joy, your passions, your love with others, not misery and hate. So, I decided to remove that pain, to exorcise it from myself. It was a long process and it was more painful than I could ever imagine, but I was able to expel all that hate within me. What I did not take into account was the shape it would possess. The hurt took form into that ghost that-that thing that calls itself the Weeping Widow. And she has haunted me ever since."
"But she's gone," Catie said. "We trapped her in that monster!"
"She cannot die, my dear. Soon she will return. But, when she does, I'll be ready for her."
"All the trouble that I've caused," Jane said. "After everything that you've been through. I just made things worse."
"Oh, no, my dear, on the contrary, in fact," Mrs. Macabre wiped the tears from Jane's face. "Meeting you two has been the happiest I have been in a long time. I wasn't sure if I was up to taking children on adventures again. That doubt came creeping back inside my head once more. But you have given me hope just by being yourselves. You've made me believe that I can be good again. All I ask is that you don't let your own Weeping Widows take over you. Never be afraid to be the unusual young ladies that you are. Others may look at you differently, but that difference is what makes you unique. And living as your fullest self means that you can be happy. And being happy makes others so. Spread that happiness and it will come back to you a thousand times over," she smiled at them and they smiled back. "Having said all that," she said standing up, "I believe it's time for you to return home."
"I think you're right," Jane said. Though she and Catie did love the Hallowland, Mrs. Macabre, and Jack, they both felt that their time there had come to an end. A bittersweet sensation swept over them like a wave. They never felt so much like themselves than they did there, but this was not where they were meant to be. They went back into the manor and collected their luggage. Once outside, they saw Jack waiting for them on the porch. He was covering his face with a handkerchief and shaking, his straw insides rustling like a pile of leaves.
"Jack, what's wrong?" Jane went up to him, placing a hand on his back.
"I just don't-don't want you leave," he quivered, wax tears fell down his pumpkin cheeks.
"It's okay," Catie came up to him. "We don't want to leave, either."
"But we're very glad we met you," Jane smiled.
"Really?" He asked. "Even if I'm scared of everything?"
"Even if you are scared of everything," Catie said. "It's what makes you such a special scarecrow," they gave him a hug, his long arms wrapped around the both of them.
"All right, then," Mrs. Macabre said a few feet away. "I think we should be off. The gate will only last a little while longer."
The Gracey twins let go of Jack and waved him goodbye. They walked over to where Mrs. Macabre stood with their luggage trailing behind them. Jane looked behind her and stared at the manor for one last time. When she had first arrived there, she had looked upon that same house with both excitement and unease. Now, she looked back on it with memories of danger and wonder. She couldn't believe that she had been through all those strange events, and yet, she felt like a different person. That Jane was not comfortable in her own skin and worried about what others thought of her. This Jane, however, was glad to be who she was no matter what anyone thought. Her skin felt just as cozy as a warm blanket on a rainy night.
"Jane?" Mrs. Macabre asked, breaking her from her thoughts. "Are you ready?"
"I am," she said, turning away from the house.
Mrs. Macabre smiled and held up her broom, the end facing the air in front of them. She moved it vertically, as if it were a sword cutting into something, and the black curtain appeared in front of them. They walked into the darkness, placed their hands on the broom, and the vortex made the Hallowland disappear once again.
They returned to their neighborhood moments later. As they walked out of the gate, the twins were struck by how odd everything looked. Every house stood as plainly as cardboard boxes, on their plainly manicured front lawns, on their plainly perfect streets. The night sky did not have a shade of purple or dark blue in it, but as black as the space that they had just come from. An airplane flew overhead and the buzz of the engines felt that it should have been the squeaking of bats, instead. Nevertheless, it was their home, plain as it was.
They reached their house and held onto Mrs. Macabre as she lifted them into the air. They each crawled through the window that they had opened when they left. Their bedroom looked exactly as it did in the Hallowland, but this too had a strange feeling to it. The fact that it was in the wrong house made it feel like a replica of their room, but it was the real one. The clock on their nightstand read 12:45.
"So," Mrs. Macabre said. "I guess this is goodbye, then."
The twins looked at her for a moment, then gave her the tightest hug that they could. "I don't want you to go," Jane said.
"Please stay with us," Catie added trying not to cry.
"I know, darlings," Mrs. Macabre said, wiping a tear from her eye. "I know," she got down on one knee and kissed them on their foreheads. "But goodbyes aren't meaningful if they don't hurt a little. Now, off to bed."
Jane and Catie got into their beds with the witch following behind, tucking them in. Afterwards, Mrs. Macabre returned to the window, smiled, then transformed into a raven. She flew out the window. Moments later, Jane rushed over and closed it. She looked at the clock and saw that it had just turned one in the morning. She peeked out the window, looked down the street, and saw that the gate had disappeared.
***
When they awoke the next morning, they didn't feel as nostalgic for the Hallowland as they had thought they would. In fact, they felt that they were still there in a sense. Yes, the location had changed, but the feeling within themselves was still there. The sense of magic and belonging that they felt in the manor was with them. Burning in their hearts and filling them up with a sense of calm and serenity. Getting ready for school was no longer a slog like it had been, instead it had an excited charm to it as it had been in the Hallowland. Their breakfast did not consist of gargoyle eggs and beetle juice, but in their imaginations, it could have been.
Waiting on the school bus was not the slow, eminent dirge of doom, but an adventure, like waiting for Mrs. Macabre's manor to start walking down the road or the thrill of getting rid of gremlins on top of the roof. School itself no longer felt like a labyrinth of persecution and loneliness. The eyes that glared at them judgmentally or the snickers that they received reminded them of the river Styx and the Reaper or fighting off the long arms of nightmare trees. The insults that were hurled at them by their peers such as "weirdos," or "freaks," seemed tame compared to what they had been through. If those that insulted them only knew what they had been up to the night before, they might have chosen their words more carefully.
Lunch period was about the same as it had been before. Jane and Catie would sit alone at a table, each taking their meals out of their sacks, mirroring one another as they did so. Other kids continued on laughing, chatting, or making idiots of themselves with their classmates.
"Who's that?" Catie asked, pointing at a boy who had just walked into the cafeteria.
Jane looked over and saw him. He walked through the giant room as if it were a mine field, holding his tray of food with him, like a barrier between himself and the world. His eyes glanced
over the tables, looking desperately around to find a seat. But if one was not already taken, it was quickly filled to prevent him from sitting there. The twins understood why, considering that he was dressed in a shirt for the band The Cure, a group that no one in the school knew about, and if they did, they would have called it "old music." Jane shrugged. "I've seen him before, we should invite him over. Hey, kid! Over here!" She waved both of her arms up, as if she was stranded on an island trying to get the attention of a ship in the distance.
The boy squinted and looked around, hearing her voice. He spotted them and quickly walked over. "Thanks," he said sitting down on a space near Catie, "I thought I'd never find a place to eat."
"No problem," Jane said, taking a sip of soda. "You're, uh, Vas-something, right?"
"Vasquez," the boy said. "Abraham, but people call me Bram."
"Bram, yeah, I think I've heard of you," Catie said.
"People make fun of my name. My dead name, I mean," he said, sheepishly.
"People make fun of us too," Jane said.
"Yeah, I saw you in class talk about Mary Shelley, I thought that was cool."
"Cookie?" Catie asked, offering hers that she had wrapped in plastic as desert.
"No," he reached into his backpack, "I brought my own," he pulled out a small red velvet cake wrapped in foil.
"I hope that's not blood cake," Jane said, looking at Catie.
"Please tell us you're not a vampire," Catie returned the glance and smiled.
"Wait," Bram's eyes grew wide with excitement, "Do you like vampires too?"
"Only in movies and books," Jane said. "Why? Do you?"
"You have no idea!" He dug into his backpack, and pulled out a wooden black box. He opened it and inside was a mini-vampire hunting kit. Lined with small wooden stakes, a vial of holy water, a crucifix, and even a fake clove of garlic. "My abuela gave this to me a while ago!" He said, as if presenting the most valuable treasure in the world. "I keep it with me at all times just in case, you know, I run into any," he smiled. "My mom and dad think it's dumb."
Jane and Catie looked at one another. "We don't," they said in unison. They talked until the bell rang, barely touching their food. Their arms were too busy flailing about in shared enthusiasm as they discussed their favorite monsters, stories, and movies together. They argued over which they would rather be, a vampire or a zombie? Or which Poe story was their favorite. Or whether or not Mothman was real. The Gracey twins were so wrapped up in the conversation, that they never bothered to look out the window behind them, to see a raven perched on the branch of a tree outside.
The Mrs. Macabre Chronicles will continue.