Megan gasped. “Bloody hell, what’s that?”
They were both staring at my neck.
I reached up, touched my throat. “What do you mean?”
Miss Akin pushed my hands out of the way. “You have red marks around your neck, like finger prints.” She looked from me to Megan. “What on earth happened down there?”
“Riley couldn’t breathe for a second and said she felt a shock rush through her.”
Megan stared at my neck in the same way Miss Akin was.
I walked to the large mirror that hung over the fireplace in the parlor and lifted my chin. I could understand why they were so
alarmed. Sure enough, there were purplish imprints from Laria’s fingers around my neck.
“How can that be?” Megan said under her breath. “There was no one near you. It was just the two of us, and I swear to God, Riley, I didn’t touch you. I was standing by the stairs the entire time.”
“I know that, Megan. No one is saying you did.”
Miss Akin gave her a reassuring squeeze.
“My dear, all is well.”
“It’s okay, Megan,” I said, but I could tell she wasn’t buying it. She jumped when her cell rang.
Megan looked at the caller ID, flipped the phone open. “I’ll be right there, Mum.” She closed her cell and rushed toward the door.
“I gotta babysit my brother. I’ll call you later, alright?”
“Sure,” I replied as the door closed behind her.
Miss Akin touched my neck again. “Who did this to you, Riley?”
I didn’t know exactly how much to share with her, especially given how scared she’d been after the séance with Anne Marie. “I think it was Laria.”
“Has she touched or harmed you before?”
“No.”
She shook her head. “I should not have sent you downstairs. I should have just called a contractor.”
“Laria could have done it anywhere, Miss A.”
Miss Akin shook her head. “I do not like this at all. It makes me very uneasy. Even more so since I was supposed to meet with Anne Marie this morning for tea and she called to cancel. She hasn’t cancelled in over twenty years. She’s the healthiest, most active person I know—and now all she does is sit in her house all day.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know. She said she had a cold.
She sounded horrible—tired and worn out, but I sensed something else was bothering her.”
I wondered if that something else had to do with a certain ghost who was making our lives unbearable.
Chapter 17
There were at least twenty people surrounding me. All were dressed in black monk-like robes, standing with hands folded together before them, their heads bowed.
I was pulled toward them by my captor, who shoved me into the hands of another cloaked figure. My captor rushed away, and the person before me pushed me to my knees.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I looked around and recognized this place from Maggie’s vision. The giant fir and oaks surrounded us, enclosing us deep in the woods, far away from prying eyes, which meant I was far away from any help.
My heartbeat was a roar in my ears, and grew even louder as the group began to chant, the words making absolutely no sense to me. Sweat poured off my forehead, and as
the chanting grew louder, I struggled against the binds that held my hands together.
Terror gripped me, making it hard to even breathe. Was this it? Was I about to die at the hands of a cult?
A sacrifice…just like the lamb.
But now I was the lamb.
The person in front of me pulled out a knife, and the blade glimmered in the light from the fire. I felt the anticipation of the crowd around me, the way they came closer, the way their voices became louder, the chanting faster.
“Please let me go,” I whispered. “I swear I won’t say anything. No one will know.”
The figure ignored me. He raised a hand to the others and the chanting abruptly stopped.
It was so quiet.
Too quiet.
There wasn’t even a breeze. I was so tense, I jumped when the wood on the fire crackled and popped.
The cloaked figure lifted the knife high in the air.
This was it. I was history. I thought about my dad and my brother, and wondered how they could possibly handle such loss again.
The group resumed their chanting, in a strange language I didn’t understand.
I concentrated on the voices, and I heard male and female voices—and even one or two that sounded young. Who would bring a kid here?
I swallowed past my painfully tight throat. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”
Silence met my question.
My stomach coiled as I was pulled to my feet and dragged over to a makeshift altar.
Using all my strength, I jerked away from my captor and ran for the tree line, but with my
hands tied behind my back, I was at a huge disadvantage. I could hear more than one person follow me. Seconds later, I was tackled and yanked over toward the altar.
I went completely limp, hoping to trip them up—but they dragged me back to the shrine.
One figure, slighter than the rest, came forward. He or she carried a goblet, similar to the one from Maggie’s vision where lamb’s blood had been drained into the goblet.
My fear was all-consuming, and I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep from screaming.
Within minutes I would be dead. I knew it with a bone-chilling certainty. These freaks would slit my neck, drink my blood, and life as I knew it would be over.
Finished. No more pain. No more loss.
No more…
I fought against my captors again, which earned me a smack against the head. The
side of my face throbbed, and I felt blood flow from a wound on my forehead.
I struggled against my binds, and the ropes burned my wrists. I kicked the person before me and I was abruptly pushed back.
“Riley,” he said sternly, and I stopped cold.
I gasped. Oh my God, I knew that voice.
“Ian?” I said in disbelief.
He pushed the hood back with both hands. His brilliant eyes were cold, cruel even, as he looked down at me with anger and hatred. “You must die now,” he said matter-of-factly. Lifting the dagger, he fisted it with both hands and brought it down hard.
I came awake with a startled cry.
What the hell? The comforter was wrapped around my legs, and my T-shirt was soaked with sweat. I ran a trembling hand down my face. What was happening to me?
Was Laria messing with me again? Were my
dreams turning darker by the day because I was getting closer to Ian?
Shane whipped my bedroom door open.
Baseball bat in hand, he looked around wildly. “What the fuck is going on?” He finally turned to look at me, obviously surprised to find me alone. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, too afraid to say anything for fear I’d burst into tears. The dream had seemed so real. As real as the vision of Ian’s death, but this time it had been my death, and Ian, the person I trusted more than anyone, had killed me. I had felt all the emotions a person facing death must go through, and as much as the idea might have held some appeal, ironically, I wasn’t at all ready to go.
I had fought for myself, for my brother, for my dad. I’m not so sure I would have even a month ago, but I was a different person now.
A stronger person, thanks to Ian.
Shane relaxed a little. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I just had a bad dream.”
“You want to talk about it?”
I shook my head. “Not really, but thanks anyway.”
He shut the door behind him, lowered his voice. “You shouldn’t have gone into that mausoleum. Why didn’t you just take a truth question?”
I didn’t tell him why I was afraid of a truth question. I had too many skel
etons in my closet, and I didn’t want anyone here knowing anything about me. “Sometimes it’s smart to play your cards close to your chest,”
I said, remembering Mom telling me that very thing shortly before her death. She’d been worried about me getting too friendly with Ashley.
He nodded. “Do you want me to crash out on your floor…at least until you fall asleep?”
I was surprised by the offer. Years ago, when he was about four, he’d come into my room whenever he was scared. Back then
he’d just climb under the covers, a hand reaching out for me. I’d squeeze his hand, just smile to myself, roll over and when I woke in the morning, he’d be gone, usually up and about, and neither of us said a word to our parents. “No, that’s okay. The floor can’t be that comfortable.”
“I don’t mind.”
I could tell by his expression that he didn’t mind. In fact, I think he needed to sleep on my floor as much as I needed him to. “Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”
He actually smiled. “Just make sure you don’t tell any of your friends.”
“Trust me, I promise I won’t say anything.”
He went into his room and I took the opportunity to change out of my sweaty T-shirt.
By the time I came out of the bathroom in a fresh oversized T-shirt, he was walking through the door with his comforter and two pillows.
“Thanks, Shane.”
“No problem.”
He curled up on the floor between my bed and the door, and we fell into an awkward silence.
“Riley?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened to your legs?” he asked.
“What are those marks?”
My stomach clenched tight as my mind raced about what to say. I didn’t want to lie to him, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. I had lived in fear of the sub-ject ever coming up. “When I was in the mausoleum I was a little freaked out and I accidentally scratched myself.”
He swallowed hard. “Janie Anderson told me you cut yourself.”
My heartbeat was a roar in my ears.
“I didn’t believe her until one day when you left your backpack on the bus. Alex and a couple of his buddies went through it to see
who it belonged to…and he found a blade.
He swore to me that he would never breathe a word to anyone—well, except for Janie.”
I remembered Alex, how sweet he’d been, especially after our mom had died. He’d been our next-door neighbor since his family moved across the street the year I’d started Kindergarten. Janie was his equally sweet band-geek girlfriend.
“I have cut.”
He flinched, and I could tell by his expression that he didn’t want to believe it.
“But you don’t anymore, right?”
I chewed the inside of my lip. “I don’t want to anymore.”
His brow furrowed as he thought about it for a few seconds. “I won’t say a word to anybody, I swear.”
“Thanks, Shane.”
“If you ever need to talk about anything, just let me know. I don’t want you hurting yourself, Ri.”
Hearing the sincerity in his voice made my throat tighten. “Okay,” I said, laying down as a myriad of emotions rushed through me, including embarrassment. It was one thing to own up to cutting to Ian who had caught me red-handed, but admitting I had a problem to my brother was tougher than I thought it would be.
“Riley, do you ever dream about Mom?”
My heart skipped a beat. “Yeah, do you?”
“Sometimes. Actually, I used to dream about her every night after she first died, but now the dreams don’t come as often. In fact, half the time I don’t dream at all.”
“It’s probably all that pot you’re smoking.”
He laughed under his breath, and I smiled at the sound. God, I missed that laugh. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
He sat up, hooked his arms around his knees. “You don’t have to answer me if you
don’t want to…but do you remember anything about the accident?”
The shrink used to ask me that question every single time I’d visit him, and I know my dad was curious about the details of that night, but he never pushed me. “No, I just remember waking up in the hospital and Dad sitting beside my bed.”
Shane chewed on his thumbnail.
“I really am sorry, Shane.”
He frowned. “About what?”
“About Mom.”
“I didn’t mean to make it sound like—”
“You didn’t. I just feel responsible.” My voice cracked and he was beside me a second later, hugging me.
“I should have just come home on time that—”
“Listen.” His hands cupped my face. I had never seen him so serious before. “Mom’s death wasn’t your fault, Ri.”
“But we wouldn’t have been in the car at that minute.”
“She could have been on the way to the store to pick up milk, or picking me up from practice.” He hugged me again. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like to have been there. It could have been me in that car. It could have been Dad.”
But it hadn’t been. It had been me, and I had to live with that guilt forever.
“Just know it’s not your fault, Ri. It never has been. It never will be. I don’t want you to ever think that I blame you.”
My breath left me in a rush. I’d wanted to hear those words for so long.
“It’s alright,” he said, squeezing me tight.
I rested my head on his shoulder and let the tears fall.
Chapter 18
Johan drove his Peugeot with nice rims and tires through the windy Scottish roads like he was in a race. My blood pressure kept rising with the speed gauge.
I’m not sure if he was trying to impress me, but I was anything but impressed by the time we pulled into the parking lot of the movie theater in the heart of Aberdeen, a large city on the northeastern coast of Scotland.
In fact, I could have dropped to my knees and kissed the ground, I was so happy to be out of the car.
Milo farted, and Megan crawled out of the backseat, laughing and waving her hand in front of her face. “You’re rotten, you know that.”
Milo reached for her. “Ah, come on, my darlin’. It’s not that bad. Show me some love.”
Their playfulness seemed to ease some of the tension that had been building for the past hour. I was still mad that I’d been completely setup. A “movie with friends” had ended up being a double date. I was all about safety in numbers, but I would have been happier being a third wheel. This current situation is exactly what I’d been hoping to avoid.
Johan rounded the car, and I slid my hands into the pockets of my jacket. He fell into step beside me and put his hand on my back as we walked toward the theater. It wouldn’t be so bad if I knew Johan just wanted to be friends, but I’d been in Braemar long enough to guess his reputation. I had a feeling he wanted more than friendship, and I was worried that I had given him the wrong impression the night of Milo’s party when I had unwittingly reached for his hand.
I would just have to be brutally honest with him.
· · · · ·
The movie ended up being just as uncomfortable as the car ride itself. Ninety-three endless minutes of Johan looking for any opportunity to touch me, and when he pulled a silver flask from his pocket and offered me a drink, I shook my head. He was ready to take a sip when I asked him what it was.
“Whiskey,” he’d said, with lifted brows and a devilish smile, offering it to me again.
“But you’re driving.”
“Yeah, and…” he said with a dip-shit smile on his face. “I’ll just have a couple of swigs.”
“The roads are windy and I don’t think it’s a good idea. Unless you want me to drive your car…” Not only was I not old enough to
drive in Scotland, but they drove on the opposite side of the road.
He sighed heavily, screwed the cap back
on, and put the flask back in his pocket.
Megan and Milo were oblivious, laughing under their breath throughout the movie, much to the aggravation of the couple in front of us. When they started making out, I couldn’t help but think of Ian, and what it would feel like to kiss him the same way.
Just thinking about him brought a smile to my face. Seeing him was the highlight of my day.
I jumped when Johan’s hand slid to my thigh, and my stomach clenched with dread.
This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.
I opened my mouth to say something, but snapped it closed just as quickly. I could always push his hand away.
Megan leaned across Johan. “Riley, I have to use the bathroom. You want to come
with me?” she asked, glancing at Johan’s hand on my thigh.
Thank God.
“Sure,” I said, jumping up and ignoring Milo’s smart-ass remark about girls never being able to pee without reinforcements.
I used the bathroom, and when I came out, Megan was putting lipstick on.
She caught my reflection in the mirror.
“So what do you think of Johan?”
“He’s a nice guy.”
“Nice as in you’d like to go out with him again?”
“Nice as in I like him as a friend.” Oh my God, I was beginning to sound like a broken record. “Honestly, Megan, I wouldn’t have come today had I known it was just the four of us.”
“Milo’s brother and one of his friend’s were going to come but bailed on us at the last minute, I swear.”
I wanted to believe her, but given her track record so far, I wasn’t so sure. “So since we’re on the topic––what really happened between Johan and Cassandra? Were they ever together?”
Megan pressed her lips together. “Yes, and she liked him, but he’s just not into her.”
She glanced at me. “It’s probably just as well that you don’t like him. He’s a heartbreaker, that one.”
Weren’t they all?
“Can you keep a secret?” she asked, lowering her voice.
I nodded. “Of course.”
“I mean it, Riley. You can’t tell a soul.”
I rested my hip against the sink. “I swear.”
She lifted her pinky up to me, and I almost asked if she was kidding, but I could tell by her expression she wasn’t.
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