“Haunted restaurant, need help please!”
“How do I keep vampires out of the laundromat?”
They didn’t do curses. Amelia could, but as she pointed out to Cormac, they were trying to get out of the assassination business and the one seemed awfully close to the other. The Ouija board issue seemed straightforward—whether or not the thing was actually haunted, Amelia could work a purifying spell or two, the owner would be happy, and they could charge fifty bucks for half an hour of work.
The haunted restaurant might or might not be, and Cormac wasn’t sure what was going on with vampires and laundromats. He could respond, ask for a basic consulting fee and not feel too bad about taking money from people who didn’t know what they were talking about.
The next email read: “I’ve been told you’re someone who’s good with mysteries. Weird mysteries. I might have one for you. Really, I’m absolutely certain something terrible is going on here, but I can’t get anyone to listen to me. Here’s what happened: one of my colleagues starved himself to death. He was in a fully stocked cabin, his car was full of gas, he didn’t need to starve. But he did. The medical examiner says it’s a fluke—some weird undetected medical condition. If it had taken place anywhere else in the world, I might say yes, it’s a fluke, he got sick and it’s just one of those things. But Mr. Bennett—we work at Donner Pass. This man starved to death in a cabin at Donner Pass.”
That caught Cormac’s attention. The presence that was Amelia also seemed to lean forward with interest. “You know about Donner Pass?” he asked.
Of course I do, it was one of the most lurid tales ever to come out of the American West. A group of pioneers was caught in the Sierra Nevada mountains over the winter and resorted to cannibalism—or so it’s said. Even in my time, fifty years later, survivors were publishing memoirs, and dime novels covered the event incessantly.
The message continued. “We’re a tourist area, a lot of people come through here. If this is some kind of curse, if something’s really wrong here, it could get bad. I can’t let that happen. Can you help?”
The message was signed by Annie Domingo, U.S. Forest Service Ranger, Tahoe National Forest. Her tone throughout was even, straightforward. Not someone prone to panic, but she was definitely disturbed. And desperate, to be reaching out on the basis of a scrap of reputation.
“Do you think there’s something to this?”
Amelia considered. I’m not sure. I knew of magicians who were interested in the location. Some feared that such a terrible event would turn the spot into some kind of psychic sink—a pit of despair if you will. Many were sure the place must be haunted.
“Still are, I’d guess. But is it possible something’s there?”
Oh my goodness, do you even need to ask such a question?
An internet search brought up a local news story about the man, a Forest Service ranger who’d been working a month-long shift at a research station near Donner Memorial State Park when he stopped checking in. State troopers found his body lying on his cot, apparently peaceful. The coroner determined that he’d died of malnutrition—he had starved. That had been just a week ago. Tests were still being done to determine if he’d had some disease or condition that would cause such a death. The coroner and other authorities interviewed for the short article all agreed that while the incident was strange, and the death tragic, it didn’t require any more attention.
Cormac called the number in Annie Domingo’s message.
“Hello?”
“Annie Domingo? My name’s Cormac Bennett, I got your email and wanted to follow up.”
The woman had a young-sounding voice, full of energy. “Oh, wow. Thank you so much for calling. Did all that sound crazy? It must have sounded crazy.”
“I don’t follow up on the crazy ones,” Cormac said.
“So you think there may really be something weird going on?”
“Well, that’s why I wanted to talk. Why do you think something weird’s going on?” He also wanted to get a better idea of her definition of weird. Did she think this was a cult, a serial killer, that kind of weird? Or weird weird. His kind of weird.
“I think there’s some kind of magic working up here.”
Yeah, that kind of weird. “Yeah?”
“Just a feeling. It’s hard to explain. It’s sort of like. . . .”
She was hesitating. Self-editing, trying to figure out what to say. What wouldn’t make her sound crazy. “Just say it,” Cormac said firmly.
Her next deep breath sounded over the phone line. “It’s a sense. Almost a boundary. I was with them when the cops found Arty’s body, and walking into the place almost made me sick. Not physically, not nausea or anything, even though it was a pretty ugly scene. But heartsick. Soulsick. Something.” The feelings she described were vague, as if she couldn’t put the sensation into words. But she’d certainly experienced something. Not only that, she recognized the wrongness of the experience.
She’s magical herself, Amelia observed. She must have some kind of connection to the supernatural, to be able to sense that. She might not know it.
“Whatever happened—you think it’s connected to Donner Pass? To the Donner Party?”
“It almost has to be, doesn’t it?”
It mig