by Sara Clancy
“Then I guess so,” he replied.
Nicole tightened her grip on his hand a little more and gave him a slight tug. “Come on. We don’t want to stay in here too long.”
Not willing to give Mic his back, Benton walked backward, trusting Nicole to lead the way. Mic made no attempt to follow, remaining as a dark void against the rich colors of the forest.
Muffled noises drifted from the nearby campsite, the faintest rumbling sound that could barely be heard over the crunch of dried leaves. Morning light flashed through the canopy, striking his eyes with a blinding glare. Without the living aurora, all the colors were too bright. Pain pricked the back of his eyes as he searched the treetops for movement. It was easy to pick up on the sound of rustling leaves. Far harder to find the source.
The earth moistened under his bare feet as he followed Nicole’s lead. Every step brought another ache to his legs. Not a throbbing pain. More like his muscles were hardening underneath his skin. The fingertips of his free hand began to toy with the thick beads of his choker, seeking out the thin iron wire that held them all together.
“We’re getting close,” he whispered.
“You see it?”
“Feel it,” he replied.
She threw a questioning look over her shoulder, but he shook his head. Now’s not the time. Reluctantly, she left all of her questions unspoken. The soft babbling of the stream emerged through the leaves. Flowing as it did around the bend had left it gently lapping at the muddy bank and gnarled roots. Ducking under a low branch, Nicole’s foot found the soggy drop-off. Benton had barely enough time to grab onto the tree branch with his free hand before toppling down after her. Using their grip for leverage, she pulled herself back up.
“Watch your step over there,” she whispered.
“No kidding.”
There really wasn’t anywhere they could have fallen that would have done much harm. The river pushed into the forest, depositing silt and claiming the fallen logs, creating a gradual transition from water to land. The steepest drop off was only a few feet at most, and the calm, clear water hid relatively little. None of that was enough to soften the ache forming in the back of Benton’s throat.
“Where to now?” Nicole asked, still keeping her voice low.
Benton glanced around at the undisturbed beauty surrounding them. Sunlight glistened off of the water, making it shine like a shifting sea of jewels. The scents of fresh mud and pine lingered on every breath, and only the lapping water broke the silence.
“She’s not here.”
“Reassured or alarmed?” Nicole asked. “Which one should I be feeling right now?”
Instead of answering, Benton shifted his weight between his feet, feeling every muscle involved pull taut. Thick mud oozed between his toes, coating his feet and numbing them just a little bit more. Nicole began to squirm beside him, more out of impatience than trying to fight off the cold, although she would deny she felt either.
“Where is this guy?” she grumbled to herself.
Benton didn’t know that he had moved until he noticed a pinched expression settle onto Nicole’s face. He still had one hand holding tightly on to hers. The other now pointed to the branches that loomed above their heads.
Chapter 13
Bark flaked away under Nicole’s fingertips as she gripped the tree trunk. Benton was prepared for her to push off of his cupped hands and, without a word of warning, she began to climb. With his boost, she was able to reach the lowest branch and soon squirmed her way onto it. There hadn’t been much of a debate over which one of them should actually go and check. Benton was the one who could see any lurking spirits. Nicole was the one who could actually get up the rope in gym class.
“Can’t we just go?” Benton asked before she got too high to hear his harsh whisper. “No one’s going to see him up there.”
“If he’s up here,” she corrected.
For an instant, all of his concern was replaced with exhausted annoyance. “Which one of us keeps saying that I need to trust in my Banshee skills?”
She decided it was best to avoid answering. “We still need to check his wallet.”
“Sorry?”
“I don’t know how mom plans to deal with this, but it’s bound to be a lot easier if she knows who he is.”
“I get that part,” he said, hurrying the last words as she continued to climb. “What I’m stuck on is; what kind of moron brings I.D. with them to kidnap someone?”
“Fair point.”
“So let’s just go and tell the people with guns where he is.”
Do guns hurt ghosts now? Deciding that the question would only prolong the conversation, Nicole gripped the newest branch she was on and glanced down to him again. She had to raise her voice a little to ask, “Do you know this guy’s name?”
Benton frowned. “I only get the victim’s names. You know that.”
“Then I’ll be quick.”
“Nic-”
“Traditionally, lookouts are silent.”
He huffed something under his breath but didn’t say more to her, instead opting to hug himself tightly and restlessly scan the area around him. She watched him for a moment, wondering if he knew that he shuddered every time he looked to the river. Then she put every ounce of her concentration into the climb.
Rough bark gouged her hands and feet as she forced herself higher. The branches became steadily shorter, forcing her to fight against clusters of pine needles for proper handholds. Squirming her way through a dense blanket of foliage, she smacked the top of her head into a hidden branch. Her foot slipped and her nails carved pathways through the bark as she worked her way around it. Heat hammering, she straddled the branch and hugged the tree tightly.
Buttery sunlight streamed in through the thinner canopy. Warm and welcoming, she relished the feel of it against her skin as she gulped down a few deep breaths. When her heart had slowed to a more acceptable pace, she opened her eyes. Her sight of what was below was broken up by the pine needles. What glimpse remained was enough to have her doubling her grip on the tree. Vertigo left her dizzy and her heart throbbed in double time. She had been so focused on going up that it hadn’t occurred to her just how high she was. And the distance looked all the greater when there was nothing to break her fall but solid earth. To her right, she spotted another branch. Thinner than the one she sat upon now; it stretched out wide over the water. The river’s ten feet deep in places, she told herself, only to recall a second later that a series of mud banks left it half an inch deep in others. Racking her brain, she tried to recall which parts were where.
Gathering her courage, she twisted the bare minimum necessary for her to sneak a quick peek around her. A rush of adrenaline brought pinpricks to her skin as she spotted him. Dying twigs and new saplings had woven together to create a nest a few feet back from where she was perched. The deep maroon of dried blood stained the tangled mess of rich greens and earthy browns. Small opens allowed her glimpses of fabric and flesh. Then, as if to chase any lingering doubt from her mind, the wind shifted and she was bombarded with a cocktail of various bodily fluids.
At least it’s only been a few hours, she thought gratefully as she suppressed her gag reflex. Hunting with her father had taught her that it took about a day for larger mammals to really start to smell of death. That rank, pungent, sickly sweet stench that clung to everything around it. Compared to that, the aroma of a sewage system was easy to deal with.
Nicole put it all aside for a minute to wallow in self-pity, revulsion, and the desire to just climb right back down. The second that time was over, she pushed the thoughts aside and set herself to the task at hand. Twisting around without toppling over was harder than she had first anticipated. She just couldn’t get her legs to move the right way.
A sudden shriek of noise made her jolt. Chunks of bark scraped her cheek as she flattened herself against the branch, hugging the hunk of wood with both arms and legs. Vibrations against her upper thigh made her squeal. She sw
atted at the spot, hissing again when her knuckles clashed against her hard phone case. Still gripping the tree with every part of her body that she could, she ripped her mobile free, answered it, and jammed it between her ear and shoulder.
“Hi,” she squeaked.
“Are you alright?” Benton asked in a rush.
Nicole almost dropped the phone. Then almost fell as she tried to save it. “You have your mobile?”
“Duh.” She could hear him rolling his eyes. “Now can you tell me if you’re in a life-threatening situation?”
Nicole caught sight of the straight drop to the ground and squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m good. No sight of the ghost girl yet. Um, not that I don’t love hearing from you, but why are you calling?”
“Deep concern,” he replied. “Plus, a mix of fear, paranoia, and annoyance at your Auntie ringing me nonstop for the last fifteen minutes.”
“Why would she ring you?”
“Because she’s pushing 90 and doesn’t know what Skype is.” His frustrated sigh crackled along the line. “My best bet is that she put my number in her phone as ‘Nicole’s friend’ and is too stressed out to read the contact title all the way through.”
Keeping her eyes closed, she focused on Benton’s voice, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t a single flinch away from plummeting to her death. “Yeah, that does sound like something she’d do.”
“Are you okay?” Benton repeated.
“Yes,” she said. “I found him.”
“And?”
“I haven’t gotten close enough to check his pockets yet. She put him in a pretty far off branch. How are things down there?”
“Nic, you aren’t trying to distract me from the fact that you’re about to fall, are you?”
She paused. “No. I was just looking for a ghost update.”
“I can feel her. I can’t see her.”
Not comforting. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I kind of need my hands right now.”
“Yeah, of course,” he said hurriedly. “I don’t like that I can’t see you.”
“I’ll be right back down. Promise.”
“Can you keep me connected?”
“Sure. Hold on.”
She struggled to shove her phone back into the tight pocket of her yoga pants. Each shift and rattle left her convinced she was about to fall. Stop it, she told herself sharply. Nothing gets done if all you do is freak out. Set a goal. Work towards it. Her chest crushed against the unrelenting wood as she took in a sobering breath.
Opening her eyes, she focused her gaze on the nest. Carefully but determinedly, she braced her hands and pushed her torso up. Still feeling unstable, she remained like that, scooting forward inch by inch, her ears straining for the slightest hint that the wood was giving way. Violent trembles had wracked her body by the time she managed to get her hands on the edge of the tangled weeds.
Her arms gave out as she crawled her way over the rim, and she dropped hard over the man’s legs. With a series of sharp snaps, the bottom of the nest fell out in patches. The man’s right leg dropped, leaving Nicole’s arm to follow it through the gap, the side of her head smacking against a harder patch. Her attempts to get back up widened the gap. Jolting and thrashing, she scrambled around until the sound stopped.
“Nic?” Benton’s muffled voice whispered around her. “Nicole? God damn it, answer me!”
“I’m okay.” She was barely able to get the words out through her heaved breaths. “I’m okay. Everything’s fine.”
Repeating the words until she could believe them, she braced herself to look down at the corpse. There wasn’t anything she could pinpoint as to what had changed about him. Nothing more substantial than his drawn pallor and taut features. But he barely looked like the man she remembered. The cold weather had urged on rigor mortis, helping to lock his face into a distorted mask of pure terror. His eyes were fixed and lifeless, staring at her as she looked anywhere else. She screamed when she found her foot lodged in the man’s open chest cavity. Throwing herself backward made the nest shiver and threaten to fall apart. She scrambled for purchase, bracing her feet and gripping the rim. Brittle twigs snapped under her fingers as the nest groaned. Holding her breath, she rattled with the heavy thumps of her heart, waiting to see if gravity would win or not.
Benton’s voice crept from the phone’s speaker, carefully soft so as not to startle her. “Nic?”
Refusing to move, she whimpered, “I kicked his kidneys.”
“You kicked him? He’s alive?”
“I’ve got bile between my toes.”
“Oh, your foot was inside him.” After a brief pause, he added, “Baking soda and vodka.”
Surprise and curiosity crackled through her like a live wire, drawing her from her crippling fear. “Huh?”
“Mix them together to create a paste and use it as soap. It’ll get rid of the smell.”
Disturbing that you know that, she noted. Grasping onto that thought helped bring her back to her senses. She licked her lips slowly and leaned forward. It didn’t take much of a stretch to reach the man’s slack pocket. Searching them, in turn, produced a mobile phone and hotel room key. With a little organization, she was able to drop them both down to Benton.
“Are we robbing him now?” he asked, careful to whisper just loud enough to be heard through the covered phone. “Not opposed. Just wondering.”
“Mom might need them.”
“I don’t think there’s going to be a proper investigation,” Benton said.
“Better to be prepared. I’m not making a second trip.”
Trying her best not to look at the gaping wound of his stomach, she rolled the man up by the hip. Stiffening muscles made the motion strange, and she was half certain that she heard a strange pop and squelch. She slipped one hand into the narrow gap and searched for his back pockets.
Exposed spinal discs brushed across her fingertips and the coppery scent of blood assaulted her nose. If there had been anything in her stomach, it would have gushed out over the corpse. Keep it together. The demand didn’t help much. She still had to squeeze her eyes shut in order to try again. This time, she managed to find a wallet. Tearing it free, she tossed it over the edge and retreated back, letting the body drop with another stomach-churning squelch.
Her stomach lurched. Bile burned the back of her throat as she shoved her face into a thick cluster of pine needles. The sharp, fresh scent masked the stench of blood enough for her stomach to settle a little.
“What grown man has a Velcro wallet?” Benton mumbled. “Oh, my God. He brought his driver’s license along. Mason Costa. Huh, he’s American. Good, no one will be looking for him.”
“He came all the way to Canada for Adam?” Nicole croaked, still breathing the scent of pine deep into her lungs.
“The point was that they weren’t local to him. Any kid would have done.” His voice changed within a split second. Sharpening with urgency and bristling with fear. “Get down here now. I’ve got a bad feeling.”
Nicole’s body instantly responded. Tangling her fingers in the side of the nest, she dragged herself up and over. Loose bark flaked free under her hurried steps. More leaping than running, she slammed into the trunk, hugging it tightly to regain her balance. Arching her neck, she hunted for a foothold. Fear slithered along in the inside of her skull, an instinctual warning that she had caught the attention of a predator. Sweat prickled the back of her neck as she snapped her face up.
Feet hovered above her head. Mud sunk into the milky flesh, giving the appearance of rot. Seeing the heels nearest to her, she had a flicker of hope that she could slip away unnoticed. Lifting her gaze, she found glowing eyes locked onto her. They burned like dying embers in the shadows of her midnight hair. Her feet are twisted the wrong way. The thought barely had time to slip across Nicole’s awareness before her primitive mind took over. Run!
Nicole broke to the side, scrambling onto the nearest branch and raced along its length. The air stirred and the st
ench of decay filled her lungs. Nicole didn’t dare glance back. There wasn’t a doubt that the ghostly woman was hunting her down. Bark shifted under her feet, tripping her with every step. In a few seconds, she reached the lengths of the branch, and there was nowhere left to go. Pine needles billowed around her as she threw herself out into the open air.
She plummeted, her vision consumed by the approaching river, her back suddenly on fire as the ghost reached for her. Nails shredded her thin shirt and sunk into her flesh. A pained scream ripped from her throat at the contact. There wasn’t time to process it before she crashed into the frigid river.
Water clogged her throat as the cold squeezed her lungs. Amongst the froth and foam, hands drove down to grasp her. Blood seeped out into the water to further distort her vision. Her back hit the bottom of the stream, colliding with stones and sending clouds of mud coiling up around her. The water vibrated as an unearthly wail pulsated through it. The muffled noise sunk into her skull, liquifying her brain as her lungs ached for air.
In the murky depths, the ghost’s eyes still burned with ethereal fury. They weren’t focused on Nicole. Even as the specter held her down, forcing the life out of Nicole’s lungs, it didn’t have any interest in her. Instead, it looked to the surface.
Benton.
Nicole kicked and thrashed. The ghost’s fingers tightened around her upper arms, nails cutting into flesh, holding her down without much effort. Still, she didn’t bother to look at Nicole. Darkness slowly crept around the corners of her vision, steadily reducing the world down until all that remained were the ghost’s blazing eyes.
The sudden pulse turned the lazy stream into rapids. Silt hit her like shrapnel as the water swirled around them, lashing at the ghost and vibrating its cells apart. The sides of its skull remained solid as they were shoved apart. Everything between became an elastic sludge slung between the two points.
Nicole seized the opportunity to make another attempt for freedom. Torn apart by the Banshee’s wail, the ghost couldn’t keep any real strength in its grip. The current took her instantly, battering her across the bottom of the river.
