by Shari Held
Here is another Halloween mystery short story for the Halloween season. You can find all of our Halloween/Spooky stories for this year in our Terrific Tales Section. This story was previously published in Trick or Treats – Tales of All Hallows’ Eve by the Speed City Sisters in Crime Chapter in 2021.
I watch them, the young Americans with trendy $200 haircuts and designer clothes straight from the front pages of Vogue. I listen to their carefree laughter and idle chatter regularly punctuated with a giggle or an OMG! They haven’t a care in the world. Their charmed lives lie ahead of them. Dinner and dancing with handsome men who drive fancy sports cars. Trips to Europe and exotic islands. They take it all for granted. Like their lives are unfolding in a script of their own making.
I was like them once. I never thought tragedy could befall me. Not me. After all, I was the blond, cornflower-eyed youngest daughter of a wealthy entrepreneur. His beloved golden girl.
Ah, they’re coming my way. I’d better leave. Don’t want these shiny girls with bright, bold futures to catch me spying on them.
#
“Fiona, you’ve got the best dad,” Ginny said. “I can’t believe I’m in Cork, Ireland to celebrate Halloween—er, I mean Samhain. Your dad really knows how to throw a birthday party!”
“It’s pronounced Sow, like the pig, followed by when,” Anne said. “Samhain.”
“Whatever,” Ginny replied.
“I agree,” Fiona said. “This is my best birthday present ever. It’s a big change from having cider and doughnuts around a campfire back home in Indiana. So, yeah, he’s not bad for an old guy. I got lucky, I guess.”
The girls traipsed down to the lobby of Byrne House. It was traditional with dark wood, framed paintings on practically every inch of wall space, a huge fireplace, and the family coat of arms prominently on display.
Ginny sighed. “I keep thinking we’ll see someone who looks like that hunky Jamie Fraser on Outlander. Maybe he’ll be in a kilt—and nothing else.”
“For Christ’s sake, Ginny,” Anne said. “Jamie Fraser was a Scot. Scots wear kilts. We’re in Ireland. Home of the Celts.” Anne rolled her eyes. “With your botched sense of history, I wonder how you ever passed Mr. Gillespie’s history class.”
“Make that debauched!” Fiona said.
“You guys can quit picking on me any time now,” Ginny said.
“Hi, Dad,” Fiona called out, as he entered the lobby.
“Hi, Sweetie. Girls. Sorry. I was pulled into a conference call at the last minute. But I should be free most of the time now.”
The girls’ smiles took a downward dive. He laughed and held up his hands. “Don’t worry. That doesn’t mean I’m going to get in your hair. I’ll be on the links every chance I get. You girls are old enough and smart enough to stay out of trouble. And no beer. The legal drinking age in Ireland is eighteen, and I happen to know none of you are eighteen yet. Remember, I’m only an iPhone call away.”
“We’ll be fine, Dad,” Fiona said. “Today we’re shopping at the English Market. And we’ve already signed up for a tour of area castles.”
“Yes, Mr. Murphy, don’t worry about us,” Anne said. “This place is a history lover’s playground.”
“Plus, some castles have their own ghosts, like the White Lady at Fort Charles. When her father shot her betrothed, she threw herself into the ocean because she couldn’t bear to live another day without him. Isn’t that romantic?”
Anne snorted. “Kind of stupid, if you ask me.”
“Well, no one did,” Ginny said, sounding miffed. “I’d just love to see a ghost.”
“The grand finale on Samhain Eve is the Dragon of Shandon Festival with a parade featuring a dragon and 500 other creatures from the Otherworld,” Fiona said.
Mr. Murphy laughed and shook his head. “Sounds like you have everything under control. But save a day to come out to Old Head with me. They have a fantastic spa and a first-class restaurant I think you’ll like. My treat.”
Fiona smiled. “Sounds wonderful. We could all use a little pampering.”
“Yes, thank you. That will be great,” the other two girls echoed.
#
Call me an eavesdropper. You wouldn’t be wrong. I love hearing the cheery banter of the young ones. Those three are so casual, taking their youth and beauty for granted. Anne, with her long brunette hair and exotic feline eyes. Fiona, a classic Irish beauty with red hair and green eyes. And Ginny, a blue-eyed, dimpled blonde. A golden girl. Just like I was.
Mr. Murphy is a good father. Gives them their freedom but makes sure they understand the rules. That’s very important. Especially around Samhain.
#
The girls made their way upstairs. Their bedroom suite was outfitted in shades of pale yellow and baby blue. The rooms smelled like furniture polish with a faint odor of decaying roses.
“That was the best ever,” Ginny said, looking at her companions for agreement. “I don’t know about you two, but I could have knocked around in the English Market all day.”
“We didn’t have all day if we wanted to catch Blarney Castle,” Anne said. “Admit it, Miss Shopaholic, you enjoyed it, too.”
Ginny dropped her bags on the floor and plopped down on the king-size bed. “Yes, I did—especially the part about the ghost of the witch who’s entrapped there during the day and comes out at night.”
“Ghosts and witches aside,” Fiona said, “now we can tell everyone back home we kissed the Blarney Stone.”
“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” Anne asked.
“We’re going with Dad for our spa visit. He made our reservations, so we’re all set.”
“Great!” Ginny said. “We’ll be all mani-pedi-ed and looking good for the Samhain parade,” Ginny said.
“Maybe we’ll meet some guys there. They can protect us from all the evil spirits from the Otherworld.”
“Are boys, mani-pedis, and supernatural phenomenon all you think about?” Anne asked. “I hate to tell you, but you’re in danger of becoming a teenage stereotype.”
“You take that back!”
Ginny threw a pillow at Anne and soon all three girls were engaged in a vigorous pillow fight. They were laughing so hard they flopped on the floor next to the fireplace to catch their breath. Before long, all three were fast asleep.
#
Ah, look at the three darlings, now. Maybe they’d enjoy a lullaby. As a child, I enjoyed hearing my mother sing Too Ra Loo Ra Loo Ral to me. Especially when I was snuggled up safe and sound in my bed with the covers tucked under my chin. Sleep well.
#
The shrill ringer on the alarm went off way too early the next morning. The girls scrambled to get ready. Before they knew it, they were at the spa.
“And what color will you be havin’, miss?” the manicurist asked as she motioned Fiona to take a seat in the pedicure chair.
“Ruby Slippers, please.” Fiona sank into the chair and placed her feet in the tub of warm, floral-scented water.
“Ah, to match your ’air.” She nodded to Ginny and Anne. “Go ahead and pick out a color. Set yourselves down and start soakin’. I’ll be with you in a bit.
“So, are you stayin’ in one o’ our suites, then?” the manicurist asked Fiona.
“No. We’re just here for the pampering while my dad’s playing golf. We’re actually staying at a B&B in Cork.”
“Lots o’ nice spots in Cork,” she said, beaming and nodding her head like Fiona had given her a correct answer to a tricky question. “Have you been to the English Market?”
“Yes,” Anne said. “We also saw Blarney Castle. The history here is so awesome. I couldn’t believe—”
“What we’re really here for is to celebrate Samhain,” Ginny said. She looked at Fiona. “And your birthday, of course. I’m so hoping to see a ghost or two tomorrow night.”
“Ireland is home t’ many ghosts. And Cork is full o’ them. Some proprietors exploit it. Others try to erase it from the books.” She put the last brushstroke of Ruby Slippers on Fiona’s pinky toe, then turned toward Anne and motioned her to take her feet out of the water. “So, what B&B will you be stayin’ at?”
“Byrne House,” Fiona said. “Have you heard of it?”
“Aye,” she said, looking solemn. “There be plenty o’ ghosts in that house, I wager. You know what Byrne means, don’t you?”
All three girls shook their heads.
“It means ‘raven.’ Ravens are considered ill omens by most. Sometimes, especially during Samhain, ravens have been known to connect the real world to the Otherworld where the spirits live.” The old woman shook her head and crossed herself before continuing.
“Most spirits are benign. Just hangin’ around and watchin’ folks, mayhap livin’ their lives through others. It’s the evil ones you ’ave to watch out for.”
At that point, another manicurist took over. “Be careful,” the old woman said over her shoulder as she gathered her smock and towels. “And mind the rules.”
No one said anything for a minute. Then Ginny piped up. “Well, that was creepy, wasn’t it? Maybe we should explore our B&B. I didn’t want to say anything, but I’ve felt like someone has been watching us at times.”
“You’re so susceptible,” Fiona said. “That woman was just feeding us a line of bull—what she thought tourists would want to hear. She’s probably on her way home laughing at the gullible Americans she met at the spa!”
“I’m going to Google Byrne House and see what I find,” Anne said, picking up her iPhone. “She knew her stuff,” she said minutes later. “Byrne does mean raven. And ravens don’t have such a great reputation.”
“They do eat dead stuff at the side of the road,” Ginny said.
“Nothing here about ghosts, though,” Anne said. “I agree with Fiona. The old woman was just giving us a piece of the local lore. Probably hoping for a bigger tip!”
#
After being pampered at the spa, the girls ate lunch and shopped before entering the pub. There, each scored a “pint of the black stuff,” otherwise known as Guinness. Later, they’d cajoled Fiona’s dad, who was celebrating his best golf score ever, into ordering a bottle of wine with dinner. Of course, they’d helped him with it.
“No ratting me out to your parents when we get back home,” he told them on their ride back to Byrne House.
Ginny and Anne nodded off and Fiona and her dad talked about his project.
“This is a big deal,” he said. “The company has never opened an international office before. And to have it be here in Ireland, the land of our ancestors, makes it very special to me.”
“I’m so proud of you. And, so glad you brought us here.” Fiona leaned over and kissed him on the cheek as their car pulled up in front of Byrne House.
#
The girls rallied when they got back to their suite, but neither Anne nor Ginny was in the mood to stay up and talk.
“I’m heading to bed,” Anne said. “Who knew pampering could take so much out of you?”
“I think it was the combination of beer and wine,” Fiona said.
“But you had just as much as we did and you’re not ready to hit the sack,” Ginny countered.
“Guess I can handle my booze better. I think I’ll stay up a bit and read.”
“Knock yourself out,” Ginny said. “Come on, Anne. I get the bathroom first!”
#
Ah, here they are again. My sweet girls. Back from their adventure. I’ve been wondering about them. Did they enjoy the outing? Were they pampered at the spa? Did they catch the eye of any young gentlemen? Byrne House is so lonely without their cheery chatter. If only I could have gone with them.
#
Fiona turned the sconces down low, changed into her jammies, and snuggled into an upholstered chair in front of the fireplace. She could swear she smelled roses as she sank into the soft cushions. Her foot nudged something on the floor by the lamp table, and she bent over to see what it was.
A book. She scooped it up and held it in her hands. The book, Byrne’s Laws, was cracked and smelled musty. As she placed it on the lamp table and reached for a People magazine, the book fell open to a chapter titled “Rules for Samhain.” Fiona scanned through pages on how to set the table, what to serve, and who to invite for Samhain. Evidently you didn’t want to issue an open invitation to the spirits, you shouldn’t invite fairies, and witch balls could trap an evil spirit. But what really caught Fiona’s attention was the section entitled “The Mystery of the Mirror.” It read:
The Raven Mirror is the only remnant remaining from the fire that demolished most of the original Byrne House. It has a sordid history. Legend has it that between midnight and three o’clock on Samhain if you leave an offering of a glass of wine in front of the Raven Mirror you can call forth spirits from the Otherworld. Check the mirror closely and you will find an old Gaelic spell used for inviting the dead to cross over through the veil. Most people think it is all a bunch of foolishness. But be careful. Here’s the mystery. You won’t know if you’ll be welcoming a benign spirit or one intent on mischief or harm.
According to the stories, both have happened at Byrne House. And no one who had boasted they were going to utter the spell and invite a spirit over has ever revealed what happened. Not one word. Some of the old stories claim they were never the same. If you decide to try to see for yourself, be very careful. It’s one invitation you may live to regret.
A yellowed sheet of notepaper slid out of the book. Fiona put the book aside and began reading the note, which was written in tiny, but legible, writing. It was dated October 1920 and evidently authored by a young woman. It, too, referred to the Raven Mirror.
Father translated the spell, (see below) but he doesn’t want me to go near the mirror. Not even to offer up a glass of wine, much less chant the spell. Do I dare do it alone? Yes! Wouldn’t it just be the bee’s knees to share a glass of wine with a ghost!
Fiona finished reading the note and stashed it in her pocket. Bee’s knees! What a hoot! She wondered about the girl who had written it. Had she used the ancient spell? If she did, what had happened to her? And were these the rules the old lady in the spa referred to? She pulled on her robe, grabbed her iPhone, and headed to the third floor.
There it was. She turned on the lamp on the table underneath it. The ornate, ancient mirror, featuring a carved raven, must have been magnificent in its time. Fiona touched it with her finger and traced the letters carved into the bottom of its frame.
Then she read the translation from the yellowed page:
Let the veil be lifted between our worlds.
I invite you, in the spirit of goodwill, to show yourself this Samhain.
Come drink with me and enjoy the pleasures of this world once more.
Wow! Wouldn’t it be cool to reenact the spell? Wait ’til she told Anne and Ginny. She started back to the suite. But something stopped her from charging in and waking them up. Ginny would be totally into it, but she’d gab the entire time and spoil the mood. Fiona could just hear her now: “How long do you think it will take? Do you think we’ll get a really cute guy ghost? What if they prefer white wine?”
And Anne, who didn’t care for anything out of the ordinary, would complain about being forced into the stupid scheme. If a ghost did appear—Fiona was keeping an open mind about it—Anne would probably bombard it with question after question on how things were done in its time, boring it back to the Otherworld.
No, she wasn’t going to tell either of her friends what she’d found. This was her secret. Her birthday present to herself. She hid the copy of Byrne’s Laws under the chair and slipped the note back into her pocket.
#
The next day the girls stayed close to the B&B, taking in Fitzgerald Park, Cork Public Museum, and the historic City Gaol. They were meeting Fiona’s dad in Cork’s Victorian Quarter for an early Samhain Eve dinner. Then the girls would watch the Dragon of Shandon parade.
“I can’t wait!” Ginny exclaimed. “I’m wearing my leggings and booties with my poncho over my warmest sweater. It’s going to get down to 42 degrees tonight.”
“We’d better hustle if we’re going to meet Dad on time.”
“We’re almost ready,” Ginny said. “How about you?”
Fiona just smiled. It wouldn’t be long before they’d return to the B&B and she’d summon a spirit.
“Heading out now,” she replied, opening the door.
#
“God, that was fun,” Ginny said as she kicked off her shoes. “Kind of like Mardi Gras.”
“Have you been to Mardi Gras?” Anne asked, sinking down on the bed.
“No, but I’ve seen pictures and videos. Streets full of people having fun and making noise. Same idea. They probably even have a Voodoo dragon leading the Mardi Gras parade!”
“I bet lots of people we know have been or will go to Mardi Gras,” Fiona said. “But I’m pretty sure we’ll be the only ones who can say we’ve celebrated Samhain at the Dragon of Shandon parade. I didn’t know what to expect, but it was something else.”
“I just loved getting caught up in the spirit of it,” Anne said. “The whole thing about lifting the veil to the Otherworld. For a while there, I really wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d seen a ghost or two.”
“Well, I declare,” Ginny said in an exaggerated Southern drawl. “I just might make a believer of you yet!”
“Don’t count on it!”
They changed for bed and tried to stay up, but called it quits around two o’clock.
Fiona came so close to mentioning the ritual she planned to perform later, but every time she almost gave in to the urge, she reminded herself that it was for her. Her birthday present to herself. Something she’d always have that no one else had experienced. Besides, if it turned out to be a dud, no one would ever know.
#
There she is, my beautiful Fiona. So daring to take on this mystery all on her own. Honestly, I didn’t think she had it in her. But I’m so glad she decided to go through with it. She’s smart, that one. And level-headed. She’ll be able to handle an experience outside of her own worldview. Something that will make her appreciate her Irish heritage even more.
#
As soon as she heard the chorus of light snores coming from her two friends, Fiona grabbed a glass and the bottle of wine she’d lifted from her dad’s room earlier, slipped on her robe, and headed up to the third floor, using the flashlight on her iPhone to guide her.
Slowly Fiona approached the mirror at the end of the hall with the same sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she’d had watching those scary movies every Halloween. At least her knees weren’t knocking like they did then. She stopped and looked up at the mirror. It seemed very different at two in the morning. Even a bit sinister. She imagined she heard the raven caw.
Fiona shook her head. Nonsense! There was no reason to be afraid. Nothing was going to happen. How many times would she have the opportunity to invite a ghost to come over to the other side using an ancient spell? If she chickened out now, she’d regret it the rest of her life.
She put the wine and glass on the table, placing the corkscrew beside them. She wasn’t going to risk her dad’s wrath by opening the bottle if it wasn’t necessary. She pulled the note out of her pocket, recited the spell, then slipped the note back in her pocket and took a step back.
The atmosphere in the hall changed immediately. Fiona felt she was getting smaller like Alice and that the whole world around her was all fogged up. She couldn’t see anything, but her sense of smell was working overtime. A dank, peaty smell enveloped her. It was so heavy she felt she would suffocate. What was happening?
Fiona heard a noise like the wind swishing through the trees. The fog cleared and the odor dissipated. She looked into the mirror and saw a young woman. A pretty blonde with bright blue eyes. The girl was reaching out to her and saying something Fiona couldn’t quite hear. Fiona “touched” the reflection of the girl’s hand on the mirror. But Fiona’s hand didn’t stop there. She watched as it disappeared through the glass as easily as if it had entered a pool of water. She could see her hand in the mirror like it was no longer part of her body. Then she felt the girl grasp it—but nothing happened. It was like time stood still.
She must be asking me to pull her out.
Without thinking, Fiona stepped closer to the mirror.
Suddenly, the girl’s grip on her hand got stronger. She pulled Fiona inside the mirror, shoving her aside. Then the girl jumped through the mirror to the other side. Fiona pulled herself up and watched in horror as the girl bowed her head and began chanting.
“You who welcomed a spirit from the Otherworld,
Are now bound to take your guest’s place as she will take yours.
Here you will remain until someone chooses to set you free.”
Fiona banged on the mirror and called out, but the girl did nothing, just stood there, head bent to her chest. Finally, the girl raised her head and stared into Fiona’s eyes.
Fiona gasped. It was her own face staring back at her. Tears were in the girl’s eyes.
“I’m sorry. But I’ve been trapped behind the veil since 1920. You can’t blame me for wanting to get out. To live again. When you found my note in the book, I knew you were my best chance to escape.”
“No,” Fiona wailed, as she pounded on the mirror. “You can’t leave me here. What about my father? My friends? My life?”
A tear slid down the girl’s cheek. “He’s my father now. They’re my friends. And it’s my life. Someone else will find the note I left and rescue you. Just like you rescued me.”
“What are you doing out here?” Ginny and Anne were walking toward the figure they thought was Fiona. “We woke up and you weren’t in the room.”
“Oh, I couldn’t sleep and I thought I’d come up here and leave an offering. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on Samhain?”
“Yeah, well you’re never going to attract a ghost with an unopened bottle of wine,” Ginny said. “You don’t have to be Irish to know that. Here, give it to me. Let’s go back to our suite and get ‘rat-arsed,’ as they say here. This place is really giving me the creeps.”
#
Fiona watched as they left, a tear slowly trickling down her face. No one would ever know that girl walking with them wasn’t her. The only hope she had was that someone else would find the note, go through with the spell, and invite her to be their guest on Samhain’s Eve. It had taken one hundred years before the other girl—she didn’t even know her name—had been rescued. Everyone she knew would be dead by then.
Tears were rolling down both cheeks now. She reached into her pocket for a tissue. And pulled out the note.
It was with her. In the Otherworld. No one would be coming to her rescue. Not in one hundred years. Not ever. She thought back to what the old woman at the spa had told them.
You had it all wrong, lady. It’s not just the evil ones you have to watch out for.
Check out other mystery articles, reviews, book giveaways & mystery short stories in our mystery section. And join our mystery Facebook group to keep up with everything mystery we post, and have a chance at some extra giveaways. Also listen to our new mystery podcast where mystery short stories and first chapters are read by actors! They are also available on Apple Podcasts, Google Play, and Spotify.
That story was awesome! Thanks!
You are so welcome, Alma. So glad to hear you appreciated it!