“Shall I come here?” I asked.
“No. By then he’ll suspect I’m helping you and have lookouts watching to see if we get together.”
“Lookouts! As in spies?”
“Of course. My nephew Raymond was always one to delegate work. Beware of anyone who tries to get close to you.”
She closed her eyes. After a minute, she said, “4-8-6-1. Remember these numbers. When you want to contact me, repeat these numbers over and over again in your head. I’ll get in touch with you as soon as I can.”
“4-8-6-1,” I repeated. I felt light-headed when I stood. “All this stuff you’ve told me—it’s like a sci-fi movie. I can hardly wrap my mind around it.”
“It is a lot to absorb,” Lucinda agreed. “More than you should have to at one clip. But you have no choice.” She circled her hands in front of my face.
“I’m invoking a spell of composure. It will help calm you down yet keep your head clear. Now leave before your aunt and uncle start worrying about your whereabouts and he goes out searching for you.”
Then, to my surprise, Lucinda grabbed me around the waist and hugged me tight. I hugged her back, overwhelmed by a wave of affection for my newfound relative. It dawned on me that she was the first person I’d hugged since losing my family.
“Thanks, Aunt Lucinda. I’m glad to know you’re in the picture.”
She patted my cheek. “You’re a good boy, Simon. I’m terribly sorry about your father and mother. They were good people.”
***
It was close to eleven o’clock when I crept into the house. I stepped warily into the darkened hall, hoping I wouldn’t meet my uncle. I’d made it halfway up the stairs when he called to me from below.
“You’re coming in later and later, I see.”
I looked down. Raymond stood in the hall outside his office. Monster! I prayed he hadn’t been waiting for me to come home so he could give me another infusion.
“I lost track of the time,” I said, hating the way my voice shook.
He didn’t answer. I began to tremble. I knew what he was capable of. Despite Lucinda’s pep talk, I couldn’t stop him from doing what he liked.
Calm down. I have to calm down. I drew a few deep breaths. Raymond still hadn’t moved. “I’m going up to bed,” I said, meeting his gaze head on. Though he stood in the shadows, I managed to read his expression. He was anxious rather than angry.
“I don’t like your staying out so late. Don’t forget, you have to get up early for camp.”
“Don’t worry. I can handle it.”
I felt a prodding sensation. Raymond was trying to read my mind. I blocked him and nearly laughed at the startled expression that crossed his face.
Then he smiled, but it looked like he was in pain. “I’m only concerned about your health, Simon.”
Sure you are. I dashed up the rest of the stairs. When I got to the landing, I called down. “Uncle Raymond.”
“Yes?”
“Please don’t forget to put the money into my account and to set up an Internet provider so I can work at my computer.”
“I’ll take care of it first thing in the morning.”
I closed my bedroom door and jammed the desk chair under the handle so I wouldn’t be caught unawares if Raymond tried another of his infusions. I undressed and slipped into bed.
I turned off the lamp and realized I could see everything in the room, plain as day. I blinked a few times. Nothing changed. I saw my desk, the bureau, my jeans on the chair where I’d left them.
I shut my eyes and drifted off to sleep, aware of this last surprise in a day full of surprises. I could see in the dark.
CHAPTER SIX
HOW HAD I MANAGED to sleep the whole night through? I awoke felt rested and relaxed until my feet hit the floor and my mind started churning like clothes in a dryer. What kind of family did I come from? I was living in a house with a ghoul. My own uncle wanted to take over my body and my mind because his were wearing out!
A scary out-of-control panic attack was rising inside me. I drew on every bit of concentration to calm myself down. It didn’t make sense to run away or to show Raymond I was on to him. My only chance was to outsmart him. How? I didn’t know yet, but there had to be a way out of this horror house.
I got dressed and went downstairs, relieved that Raymond didn’t make an appearance at the breakfast table. At camp, I had a busy morning giving swimming lessons to three groups in a row. When lunch time came, I slipped onto the bench across from Andy and Pol.
“Pay your aunt Lucinda a visit last night?” Andy asked as he chomped away on his sandwich.
“Uh-huh.” I wanted to tell them what we’d talked about, but how could I? They’d think I was crazy or high on drugs. They’d be horrified to know that my uncle was responsible for little Melissa’s death.
“Was she glad to see you?” Pol asked.
“Aunt Lucinda? I think so.”
“You think so!” Andy echoed derisively. “Don’t you know?”
“Yeah, she was glad to see me,” I said flatly.
“What did you talk about?”
I stared at her. It was a typical Pol question, but she seemed awfully curious. Was she pumping me for information? Lucinda had said not to trust anyone. Was my uncle using Andy and Pol to spy on me? It would be a brilliant way to keep tabs on me and know what I was thinking and planning.
Except it was a crazy idea. But I was in an impossible situation and couldn’t take any chances.
“We talked about our family,” I finally said. “I got the impression Great-Aunt Lucinda doesn’t much like Uncle Raymond.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Andy said. “He’s such a snake. I bet he’s planning to go ahead with the condos deal, regardless of what the town wants.”
“I don’t know what he’s planning,” I said.
Pol cut me a sharp look like she didn’t believe me. I felt my ears heating up. I didn’t know why I’d lied. It wasn’t like I cared about the condo deal one way or the other, while it meant a lot to Andy. I was following my instincts to lie low and not say anything important to anyone, including the only two friends I had in Buckley.
I bit into my sandwich. The twins said nothing. I wanted to break the tension, but I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to share.
“Well, see you tonight at the playground,” Andy said as he went to toss his garbage in the pail.
“Right, see you at eight.”
I watched them walk off, relieved that they weren’t angry enough with me to stop our evening ritual.
Too soon it was time to go home. I felt nervous as the bus took me closer and closer to my aunt and uncle’s home. How could I possibly act normal around Raymond, knowing the creep planned to take over my body? My hands closed into fists as I thought about my family. I owed it to my parents and Lucy to find out if my uncle had murdered them.
But how? I sure could use Pol and Andy’s help, but I was afraid to let them in. Much as they disliked Raymond, they’d have a hard time believing just how evil he was. Besides, Lucinda had warned me not to trust anyone. For the entire ride, I circled around the problem, wishing I could find a solution.
I exited the bus as my uncle was saying good-bye to a technician in a white van. He threw an arm around my shoulders and I had no choice but to walk toward the house with him as if we were pals.
“I got your computer all hooked up like you asked me to. Come see for yourself.”
I flew up the stairs two at a time. Raymond laughed as he followed at a slower pace.
I logged onto my email and started reading the hundreds of posts waiting for me. Most of the personal ones were months old, expressing sympathy for the death of my family. The rest were from sites I subscribed to. I scrolled down, skimming and deleting.
“Is the provider fast enough for you?” my uncle asked.
I turned, surprised to find him still in my room. I forced a smile. “Sure is. Thanks, Uncle Raymond.”
He plac
ed a checkbook and some bills next to the monitor. “And I’ve opened an account for you. There’s four hundred and seventy-five dollars in it and some checks to get you started. You’ll have to stop by the bank to arrange for a PIN for the ATM machine. Here’s forty dollars in cash.”
I opened the checkbook and was relieved to see the account was made out to Simon Porte.
“Thanks, Uncle Raymond. What about my smart phone?
“Give me a day or two, and you’ll have that up and running, too.”
“Great.” I turned back to the monitor, suddenly eager to catch up on the sports news I hadn’t followed in months.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it then.”
It seemed only fifteen minutes had passed when Aunt Mary called me to go downstairs to set the table.
“Coming.” I washed my hands and started down the steps. I wondered why I felt different. Not different, I realized, just without the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders. It was how I used to be before the accident. For two solid hours I’d blocked out the horror that had become my life.
Don’t forget, for one minute, what Raymond has planned. I had to be vigilant. I couldn’t let down my guard.
After dinner I returned to my computer, this time to check out Facebook and Twitter, which had been a big part of my life until recently. I needed to get in touch with my old friends and find out what was happening in the neighborhood. My parents had no close friends there, but I did. Maybe I could find a way to live there.
I paid no attention to the ringing of the phone until Aunt Mary knocked on my closed door. “It’s Andy Coltrane.”
I took the phone from her.
“Hey, Simon, did you forget about us? Pol and I are waiting for you in the playground.”
I looked at the clock. “Jeez, it’s twenty past eight! Sorry.”
Andy grunted. “Well, that’s just great. We’re waiting for you for half an hour and you’re sorry. What gives?”
I realized I’d hurt his feelings and I had to make amends.
“I lost track of the time,” I said as I walked back to my room. “I finally got my computer hooked up and I’ve been catching up with people I haven’t heard from in months.”
“You can get on line any time. Come down to the playground ASAP. Pol and I want to talk to you about something important.”
A message from my friend Paul, whom I’d just contacted, appeared on the screen. “Can it hold till tomorrow? I’m in the middle of something and I don’t want to lose my train of thought.”
Andy expelled an exaggerated sigh of exasperation. “I suppose. It would have been nice if you’d bothered to tell us you weren’t coming in the first place.”
“I said I was sorry. Talk to you tomorrow.”
I replaced the phone on my uncle’s night table, then hurried back to my computer. I answered my friend’s email, deleted a bunch of unimportant ads, then scrolled up to the top of the list to make sure I hadn’t missed anything important. I spotted one with an unfamiliar email address. The subject line read “Gretel.”
I was about to delete it when I remembered how much Lucy loved “Hansel and Gretel.”
The message was in an attachment: “Simon, show this to no one! Call number then erase message ASAP.” It was followed by a telephone number. I didn’t recognize the area code.
My fingers shook as I jotted down the number on a slip of paper, which I tucked in my shorts pocket. I was excited. For sure this was from someone who knew that my parents and Lucy had been murdered. Why would he instruct me to delete the message and keep it secret if he didn’t know about evil Raymond?
I headed for the phone in my aunt and uncle’s room, then decided it wasn’t safe to call from the house. My uncle was out, but might return at any minute. Besides, he could trace the number of any call made on the house phone. I’d waited all these months, I could wait another day or two to make the call when my cell phone was back in service.
I stayed at the computer until my aunt called up the stairs to say it was ten thirty and maybe I should be thinking about getting ready for bed.
“Thanks, Aunt Mary. Fifteen minutes more and I’m hopping into the shower.”
But an hour later I was still at the computer, engrossed in reading movie reviews. Now that I had spending money, I intended to catch up on all the movies I’d missed these past few months. I heard someone enter the room, but didn’t look up from the screen. I gave a start when I realized Raymond had come to stand beside my chair.
“I see you’re happy to have your computer up and running again, but it’s well past midnight.”
“I’m turning it off in a minute.”
“Simon.”
I glanced up and met my uncle’s gaze. In the dim light, his gray eyes had turned black. They glowed like coals. I tried to look away, tried to shut my eyes, but couldn’t do anything but stare back.
“Gregory,” he murmured.
I opened my mouth to say that wasn’t my name, but the words never left my throat. Raymond’s eyes glowed red, then yellow, as they drew me into a vortex. I felt like I was on a carnival ride that kept me off-center.
“No!” I silently shouted. I had to close myself off, but how could I when what I was fighting had already entered my mind, changing my memories, my thoughts?
He’s got me! Knowing what my uncle intended, what I was enduring at the moment, threw me into a panic. I thought of Great-Aunt Lucinda and quivered as my uncle roared with laughter.
“Don’t fight it. Nothing and no one can help you, my boy. Soon you’ll be me. Or rather, I’ll be you.” That awful laughter again. “I’ve no idea where you’ll be, Simon or Gregory.”
I gripped the arms of my chair and forced myself to calm down, to concentrate. No easy task, with the images and memories churning about in my head. I gritted my teeth at the sight of a young girl gasping her last breath. Focus. I must focus.
I drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly as Lucinda had taught me. My heartbeat slowed. My uncle’s mind pressed against mine and my defenses rose to the challenge. Surprised, Raymond backed off and let out a bark of laughter that sounded like a hyena. It spurred me on.
I won’t let you use me! I’m not your pawn, your puppet to control! I clamped my mind shut and was happy to feel him recoil.
“Why, you little—!”
Raymond redoubled his efforts and tried to probe deeper into my mind. Shut it down! Shut it closed! I chanted the old mantra. For a moment, I saw black. The pressure receded and faded away.
I opened my eyes and saw that my uncle wore a grimace of frustration.
“You’re young, Gregory, and you’re no match for me. Eventually I’ll wear you down.”
He turned and left the room, leaving me huddled in my chair. I rubbed my arms to warm the chill that had seeped into my body. It was stupid to let my guard down, to lose myself amid my emails and websites. I’d given my uncle a chance to get inside my head! What a sap!
No matter. It was the last time he would get inside my head. He was strong. I’d felt his power. But my own emerging powers would keep him at bay. I’d practice what Lucinda had taught me until I mastered the art of keeping my mind closed.
I had to, if I wanted to survive.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I AWOKE THE FOLLOWING MORNING feeling tired and groggy. I considered calling the camp to say I was sick, but I was curious to know what Andy and Pol had to tell me. Besides, hanging around the house wasn’t an option. What if Raymond came home, wanting to try another of his infusions?
I used the bathroom and got dressed, weighed down by a headache and memories belonging to my uncle: images of growing up in Buckley, an older man telling how his health improved minutes after snuffing out a young boy’s life. I wondered if the boy was Lucinda’s brother.
Another boy showed up in a series of scenes. I realized this boy was my father. Eddie featured in Raymond’s most cherished childhood memories: teaching Eddie to ride a two-wheeler, to shoot a bow and arrow,
to ski. When the brothers were thirteen and seventeen, Eddie and Raymond had a fierce argument. Eddie took a swing at Raymond. Raymond reached out to Eddie’s head and held him off at arm’s length, mocking him all the while. Eddie ran off, crying tears of fury.
Were they fighting about The Davenport Curse, as I called my relatives’ fondness for draining a victim’s vital essence to extend their own lives? It could very well be, because this was the last memory Raymond gave me of my father.
As I waited for the camp bus, I thought about how Dad had opposed the Davenports’ killings since he was a teenager. My uncle didn’t care that his younger brother left Buckley. But then he needed me. I shivered, despite the sun beating down on my head and shoulders. How I wanted to leave this town and never come back! Then I remembered. My father had done that, and a lot of good it had done him, my mother, and Lucy.
At camp, I noticed aspects of Raymond’s personality settling into me. When two eight-year-old boys began to whine, claiming the water was too cold to swim, I didn’t give them my usual lecture. Instead, I promised that if they stayed in for at least ten minutes, I’d buy them ice cream at lunch time. The boys remained in the water for the entire period.
“I want a popsicle,” one boy shouted as he was drying off.
“And I want a cup of chocolate ice cream,” the other said.
“They’re yours,” I promised. I watched them run off to get dressed. I certainly didn’t mind buying them ice cream, but I didn’t like the idea of bribing kids to swim. Besides, if word got out, I’d be treating half the camp to ice cream before the week was over.
At lunchtime I bought a sandwich and soda, then hurried over to the table I shared with Andy and Pol. I slid across from Pol, who was eating a cup of flavored yogurt.
“Hey, Pol. Where’s Andy?”
Pol gestured with her spoon. “He’s talking up our idea with some of the other kids. The more people get involved, the better chance we have of getting results.”
Though her manner was blasé as usual, I picked up on her excitement. “What are you talking about?”
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