A shade has been pulled from my eyes. The shiny new layer of my house has been skinned back and I see the broken condition it’s actually in, without Ada there to do the upkeep. It’s exactly what my house should look like, considering it’s around a hundred and thirty years old and we’ve done zero repair work. The shattered stained glass, the grime coating the windows…
The blood. Oh gosh, the bloodstains smear the wood from the trap door and clear up the hallway. A grunt pulls my attention toward the rotting cupboard doors dangling from hinges or gaping open. Todd lies on his back in front of the sink. His long legs are bent to avoid the cabinets.
“Oh!”
I scramble out of the hole to his side. My feet sink slightly through the corroded floorboards, which are also missing chunks here and there where they’ve been gnawed through by squirrels or rats or something.
I run my fingers through Todd’s hair, press my palms to his cool face, his shoulders. His lids are closed, and a peaceful calm rests over him, like he’s simply catching some Z’s. His pulse beats at his neck, and I rest my hand over his heart, just to feel each lub dub.
I bend down, soaking in his heat and his nearness. “Is it you?” I ask softly. I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s Thomas. It would mean I failed. But Ada’s the one who stabbed Todd. So by destroying myself—her, really—it should have stopped the whole vessel thing since it wasn’t complete.
Todd’s chest rises and falls, and a surge of memories gush through me. Catching his smile from across the football field, or rifling through pawn shops for old records or license plates. That lurch in my gut anytime he honks outside to pick me up for school. Days wasted watching movies; his eighties music; his warm touch. My best friend. How can I live without him?
His eyelids flutter, and he coughs a few times, deep and throaty. “Piper,” he moans. Then he mumbles on, almost sounding like a sigh, “Sierra told me that door would work. And it did.”
Thomas would never call my name, and he would certainly not talk about Sierra Thompson. While I wonder what in the world Sierra has to do with anything, the relief is dizzying; it clouds over my judgment until I get the urge to disconnect completely. To snuggle in and wrap myself in him.
Just to be sure, though, I rub my finger on his arm and ask: “What’s taking up all the space in your closet and driving your mom crazy because you don’t have anywhere to put your clothes?”
“You kidding me, Pipes?” Todd mutters. With a grimace, he slowly rises to sitting and props his head against the cupboard door behind him. His eyes are still closed. “You stab yourself in front of me, and you want to talk about Pez?”
I laugh and hug him as tightly as I can. I press my cheek to his throat, take in his smell of soap mixed with sweat. My fingers carve through his hair, its soft, feathery feel. His arms circle tight around me.
“Mind telling me how you’re still here? And what the hell you were thinking?” he mumbles into my shoulder. His grip on me squeezes, securing me to him. I never want him to let me go. He’s alive. I’m alive. And we’re together.
Thoughts run through my head, but pegging them down requires more effort than I want to give at the moment. “Mind if I explain later?” I ask, pressing myself closer. My arms readjust to get a better grip on him.
“I love you, you know,” he says into my neck.
The words are the ultimate resolution to the chaos of the past few days. We nearly lost one another. With more than one close call, in my case. The confession isn’t anything new—I think we’ve known the love thing, in some sense, anyway. But maybe it’s that this type of love is new and needed to be spoken. To be heard.
“Me too,” I say. “Love you, I mean.”
Gently, Todd pulls me back. His absorbing gaze travels across my face. “Seriously, what happened?”
I take in the decay riddling my house. The cracks in the molding. The basement door hanging on its hinges. I’m not sure where to start.
“Ada took my body. And she tried to take yours for Thomas.”
Todd’s hand goes to his neck where Ada stabbed him with the gadget. “So you thought suicide was the answer?” A smile kinks at his lips. “Very Shakespeare of you.”
“It was the only way,” I say. I kneel up and sit on my feet, showing him my arm, the cuts from where my mom’s nails razored me. “If we’d done anything to the house, it would’ve happened to me instead. I just hoped this would stop Ada before anything, you know, final happened.” Like you dying.
I raise my fingers to my cheeks. The smoothness is interrupted by uneven, pimple-y bumps. But the dread I expect doesn’t come.
Who cares? I mean, really. I’m alive, and I have Todd. That’s what matters. And—
“Oh, crap!”
My hand smacks Todd’s chest and I jump to my feet.
“What’s wrong now?” he asks.
I clamber down the basement stairs. They give under my weight like squeegees, and I cling to the cobweb-spanned banister for balance. At my touch, the wooden railing creaks and slopes over in slow motion as if someone just yelled, Tim-ber!
I slam back into the wall as the banister collapses to the floor below the stairs. Dust flurries at the impact. I scurry down the rest of the unsteady steps and click on the swinging bulb. Discolored light spreads its glow over the mess of fallen wood.
“What are you doing?” Todd calls from behind. I ignore him, partly because I’m fighting down bile at the stench in here, along with the sight of the capsized table, the rusty saws and hooks, the shattered glass near the drain in the cement floor.
I weave around to the far room. Joel’s silhouette lies in the shadows, huddled beneath the faded gray cloth Ada placed over him. I finger along the walls for a light switch, but the damp grit balls up beneath my fingers.
“Joel,” I mutter. Then louder, “Todd! Joel’s in here!”
Todd calls something back, but his words are cut off by another racketing crash. I knead the heel of my hand against my temple and dread kicks in. The house is still alive—it’s attacking Todd.
But I know better. It’s just old. It should be condemned.
I scamper back to find Todd hunched over, monkeying his way off the crumpled heap of decayed wood. Dark curls straggle across his forehead, and he nurses his elbow. I put my hand on his arm as he jumps down to the floor.
“We have to get out of here,” I say, staring up at the fourteen or so feet between us and the door, now that the staircase is gone. The whole house could collapse on us any minute!
“That sucks rocks,” Todd says at the blood skimming down his arm.
I pull him. “Come on. I think Joel’s still alive.”
“What do you mean, he’s still alive?” He limps a few times and gestures to the surgical tools and dangling hooks. “Geez, it’s like a slaughterhouse down here.”
“You’re not far off,” I say, herding him forward toward the darkness.
Todd uses his phone as a flashlight, and the small beam shows the blackish, congealed blood on either side of Joel’s head.
“Ugh,” Todd says, squinting through the dim light. “What happened to his ears?”
My stomach gives a heavy lurch. “Spare-Tooth Bandit guy, remember?”
Joel looks paler than the moon under the light from Todd’s cell. A faint pulse glubs at his throat, and his body twitches. I take the cloth from him and lay it on the floor.
“Help me. We need to get him out of here.”
Todd gets under his shoulders, and I get his feet, and we heave him over. Joel lets out several moans, and his head bows backward.
“Sorry,” I tell him, fighting the desire to wipe sweat from my hairline, at the same time Todd says, “Hang in there, dude.”
We each grab two ends of the cloth and gurney him into the lighted room. Joel’s weight makes the cloth hard to grip. With every step it slips more
and more from my grasp. We have to maneuver around Garrett’s mess, and I accidently kick what I think is the hacksaw. It jangles against the concrete.
“How do you plan on getting out, exactly?” Todd asks, gesturing to the gap between us and the door above. The wall behind where the stairs had been is a lighter gray than the surrounding area. “Last I checked, the stairs are gone.”
With a substantial strain on my back, we carefully set Joel on the ground. “We can’t call the police,” I mutter to myself, pacing. “The last thing we need is for them to see what’s down here. Who knows if they’ll uncover other things Ada hid in the walls.”
“I got it,” Todd says, pulling out his phone. His fingers move, and after a few seconds, he puts it back in his pocket.
“You texted someone?”
He nods.
With growing unease, I ask, “Who was it?”
Glass from the small window to our left shatters, and a rock plunks on the concrete by my foot. I let out a small squeak. A ray of sunlight pours in and then gets blocked by Jordan’s smug face and Sierra’s now-clear skin. From the sound of it, several others are behind them.
I round on Todd. “You didn’t!”
“They’ll be cool about this. Trust me. He owes me.”
“How so?”
“Because I told him I’d kick his trash for creating that fake profile, and I haven’t made good on my promise yet. Among other things,” he adds as though he’s not sure he should have.
I fold my arms, my brain on full panic mode, regardless of Todd’s awesomeness and the smile he’s giving me. I don’t get how he thinks they’ll help us with anything. He knows Joel is injured; these guys are probably dying for more reasons to obliterate me.
“What happened?” Jordan yells through the window. “This place was like, brand new. And now—”
“Shut up and come through the back door,” Todd yells. “But be careful!”
“You’re unbelievable,” I say, pacing away from him again. “They’re the last people in the world I would turn to for help.”
“They’re different, Pipes,” Todd says, barring his arm out to stop me. “You have no idea how much. They probably would have busted in here with me earlier if Kody hadn’t driven up right when he did. But I couldn’t wait around to explain everything to him, so I left. ” He slants his head level with mine. My teeth clamp shut. I refuse to look at him.
He circles around, but I close my eyes. My skin stirs before his hand reaches my face. I cringe for a second, knowing my zits are back, but at the brush of his fingers, my will to fight him crumbles. Especially when he guides my face to his and places a kiss on my lips.
The kiss washes over me like steam from a sauna, unnerving me, and for a split second I forget why I’m so upset. Instead, I get caught up in his heart beating against mine, in his warm breath on my skin.
“I wouldn’t have gone to them if I didn’t trust they would come help,” Todd says against my mouth. His soothing voice makes me bubble inside. “After Jordan axed your—you, I mean. He told me, he felt pretty awful.”
My resentment tries to dig its heels in. But Sierra did say the same thing. And she even came to the hospital with flowers for me. Maybe they really are trying to be nicer, like Todd said.
“You guys gonna make out, or do you need a hand?” Jordan calls down. Gel slicks his blond hair back. The sight of him makes me pout, especially since he saw our kiss. Our kiss. Not his business.
But Todd’s already bending for the top end of Joel’s makeshift stretcher. I dash over and brace with my knees, lifting Joel up. My feet are unstable along the pile of broken stairs, and I nearly fall twice on the uneven mound, but we make it to the wall just below the door.
My arms straining, I hold Joel’s legs and help Todd lift him toward Jordan and Kody’s outstretched hands. A couple other guys from the team help, too.
“Careful,” I say, fighting the urge to bite my fingernails.
Still on the small hill of rotted wood, I support myself against the moldy concrete wall directly below the door. Jordan peers down with his stupid blue eyes and good looks. He offers me his hand.
No way. No freaking way.
“Come on,” he says.
A few blocks of wood clunk together—Todd’s readjusting his footing so he can make a support with his hands. Jordan lowers himself, and I won’t look at him. Any minute he’ll try to spit in my mouth. Or I’ll give him my hand and halfway up he’ll drop me, leave me in here to rot.
“Would I have come here just to mess with you?” Jordan asks.
“Lemme check,” I say, folding my arms. There’s got to be another way out. A larger window, maybe. We haven’t checked the other back rooms. But in my gut I know this is it.
“I’m really sorry, Piper,” Jordan says. Against my will, I blink up at him. He’s crouching down toward me now, holding onto the doorframe. “I was a total douche. I never meant for you to get hurt like that.”
Todd steps forward and rests a hand on my back. “You’ll be okay,” he whispers.
With a resolute breath, I slip my hand into Jordan’s as Todd makes a boost with his hands for my foot. “You better watch it,” I say to Jordan while he and Kody lug me up. “Or I’m axing you next time.”
The two of them, to my surprise, bust with laughter. Jordan’s face holds a smirk. “Fair enough,” he says. A few other kids peer around the decrepit scene, but I don’t care. Let them look.
“I’m not kidding,” I go on, dusting the grime from my hands onto my jeans. The need to be insistent, to switch to offense, drowns every other concern for this one moment. I’m different now, and I’ll make sure he knows it. “After what I’ve just been through, it will be nothing for me to smack you down.”
Still grinning, Jordan nods his head. Kody pulls Todd up, and before I know it, a girl slams into me, giving me a skintight hug. Her hair reeks of starchy hair spray and other products. From the dark curls trailing down her back, I know it’s Cassie.
“Glad you’re okay, Piper,” she says.
I pat her back a couple times, hoping she gets the hint. So not in the mood for hugging.
Sierra stands behind her, chewing her lip. Her silky hair is fried, frizzing out as if she’s spent the afternoon rubbing a balloon against her head or sticking forks in electric sockets. She watches me with obvious apprehension as Cassie releases me, and there’s this awkward elephant between us.
“Zits suck,” she blurts, though her face is clear once more. “And for the record, I only made a face at you your first day of school here because you wouldn’t stop staring at me and it was weird.”
My mouth drops. Of all the things she could have said, where did that come from? I’m pretty sure I’ve never told that to anyone, let alone mentioned it, least of all to her. I’m tempted to argue—she totally made the face at me first! But I decide to let it go. And despite it all, a smile creeps up on my face. “At least you’re washing your face again,” I say.
For the smallest second her brows crinkle, nostrils flare. She pouts her mouth like her teeth are grinding for all they’re worth, and she points a manicured finger at me. “You little—do you have any idea what I…what you…”
She’s interrupted by Todd’s tall presence and his arm around her shoulder. “Hey,” he says, giving her shoulders a squeeze that displays their full ability to move up and down, “you doing okay? Back to normal?”
I notice two major things. First, that Todd is being completely serious. And second, that Sierra looks, of all things, embarrassed. She nods as her fingertips brush her now-clear skin, gives me a final stare, and says, “I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time,” before turning heel and walking off.
“Um…” is all I can manage.
“I’ll explain later,” Todd says, pulling me to him.
“So it was really haunted?” Kody asks, g
lancing up to the kitchen. I wait for the lights to flicker, the walls to creak. But Ada is gone. And so is Garrett.
“Pretty sure,” I say, ready to phone the paramedics.
“Sweet,” Kody says, rotating around.
On my way out, Todd and I exchange a look. “Glad you think so,” I say.
thirty
three
The mellow tones fade out as I hold back my air supply and taste the woody reed on the mouthpiece. I stare at the music on the table in front of me and catch my breath. The few inmates in the open room clap, along with the guards positioned along the doors. Several women boom out a few cheers. But as I lower my clarinet, I only have eyes for my mother.
Her brownish-blonde hair, the smile stretched on her pretty face, the tears welling in her eyes—
My. Mother.
“That was your audition piece?” Mom asks when I make my way back to her table. I sit across from her and perch the instrument on my thigh. “That was beautiful, hon.”
Mr. Garrett had one thing right, at least. My mom did kill Hunter Morgan. And she was proven guilty and has to serve out her life sentence. The good thing is that she’s sane again. After she betrayed Dad and Garrett, Garrett used the house to mess with her mind, I guess.
I asked her when we first got here if she had been present in that floating door room. If she’d known I was there.
“Yes,” she said. “But my body was here, so I couldn’t respond at all.”
“That cage thingy, around your head?”
She smiled. “I’m free.”
“And Dad?” If her mind is free, then he must be too.
“They’ve all moved on,” she said with a trace of sadness in her voice. “Like we’re all meant to.”
Joel and I sit with her now in the open room where convicts visit with their family members. The other convicts, each clad in blue, sit along their tables, chatting under their breaths. A thick white bandage hugs his head like a bandana. The doctors said no skin grafts would be needed, and thankfully, his hearing isn’t damaged either. Joel’s considering surgical replacements, since he doesn’t want to go around, you know, earless.
The Forbidden Doors Box Set Page 26
