On her way down the stairs she couldn't help but remember Julie's words about the man.
Before anyone popped in, Taryn squatted down and lifted the rug away. Sure enough, a two by four feet patch of wooden boards that was definitely a different shade from the ones around it greeted her. These were new, fresh looking. The other boards were much more careworn, darker and scratched with age.
Shrugging, Taryn covered the spot back up with the rug. Well, maybe during the renovation something had happened. And then, maybe not. Maybe someone really had been murdered there and his blood had stained the floor so badly it couldn't be cleaned. Mother Ann would've approved of this. She once told a fellow Believer to “Clean your room well; for good spirits will not live where there is dirt.”
But what about bad spirits? Taryn was concerned. Floors and walls didn't forget things, even if humans did move on.
The closest store was a scenic ten-minute drive away. The countryside in that part of Kentucky was some of the prettiest she’d ever seen, with its gently rolling hills, old stone fences, and abundant farmland. It reminded her a lot of what she'd seen in western Ireland.
Although she was broke more often than not Taryn dreamed of buying a big plot of land and planting a garden, getting some animals. The fact that she had a black thumb and the only fish she’d ever owned had died within twenty-four hours of bringing him home didn’t deter the dream. After Andrew died, setting up shop in downtown Nashville seemed like a great idea. She’d be close to the live music venues, could pop out to eat at a host of places at 2 in the morning, and would never feel lonely surrounded by so many people
The fact was, though, she’d never felt more lonely in her life. She didn’t know a single one of her neighbors by name, was a lightweight and drunk after a drink or two so clubbing wasn’t as much fun as it used to be, and sometimes getting out to eat that late just gave her indigestion.
The Dollar General Store, with its bright yellow sign and crowded parking lot, was something Taryn could always count on no matter where she was working. She traveled through the aisles with the rickety buggy, tossing things in as they called to her: a 6-carton of Ale-8s, a box of crackers, half a dozen candy bars, People magazine, shampoo, some rubber bands for her hair…
While she waited in line behind a young woman with a baby she listened to the small-town gossip going on around her. “Are these any good?” the woman currently checking out asked the check-out girl, gesturing to a pack of juice.
“Well, you know Amy Hawkins?” the cashier, probably in her early twenties, answered. “Works at Kathy’s?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, her brother came in here the other night and bought one in every flavor. So he liked ‘em,” she shrugged.
That seemed to be good enough for the other woman so she set three more up on the counter.
When the lady with the baby moved forward the cashier immediately went into a tirade with her about the local “Welcome” sign. “Did you see that somebody vandalized the Burgin sign?” the cashier demanded, her bubblegum snapping.
“I know it,” the lady replied, raising her voice over her little one’s fussing. “Bunch of hoodlums, if you ask me. Probably the same ones breaking into places and stealing the copper pipes and tools and stuff. Who do you think it was?”
Taryn waited patiently while they speculated, running down a list of local ingrates.
At last, it was Taryn’s turn. As she handed the cashier the small stack of magazines she’d picked, she waited while she scanned each one and then took the time to read the headlines. “Hey, what do you think about these people right here?” she asked, pointing at a picture of a famous reality TV couple.
“I think they’re faking it for the cameras?” Taryn offered.
“Me too!” she exclaimed. Turning to the man in line behind Taryn, she polled him as well. “Do you watch any of this stuff?”
“Not really,” he shrugged. “My wife watches it, though. That and the Home and Garden channel.”
Taryn walked out of the store feeling like she’d had more social interaction than she’d had in weeks.
By the time she’d checked out the movies at Redbox and headed back to the village she realized she wasn't quite ready to go home. With her CD player turned up on Patty Loveless, Taryn rolled down her car windows and sang along with “Lonely Too Long” as she sped down the US-68. The cashier at the store told her the road went down to the river and over a bridge and she thought she might like to take a picture of that.
And the road definitely dipped down. And down and down. Taryn was almost sea sick by the time she reached the water. She hadn't been on that bad of a road in a very long time. Squeezing her car into a slender spot by the side of the road, she eased out and held her breath, hoping she'd make it to the grass before another car went by. It was kind of a deathtrap, getting out and walking around there.
The river was pretty, though, with the palisades. A few fisherman were out on it in little motorboats, hats pulled low on their heads and rods bobbing up and down with the rhythm of the water.
The sun was starting to set when Taryn walked back to her car and started to slide back in. A glint in the trees caught her eyes, however, and she decided she'd do just a tiny bit of investigating before she left.
It didn't take long for her to discover that it was a house that had been winking at her. A rambling structure, three stories if she was counting right, it was empty and hadn't been lived in for years. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure it had ever been finished. Nature had taken over and kudzu wound around it, through it, choking the doors and windows and squeezing it with a gentle but steely grip. The whole left side was covered with the awful vine, so much so that she couldn't see what was under it; it simply looked like a big stack of boxes someone had thrown a bright green blanket over. The leaves were so thick and plentiful that Taryn thought a giant might have been able to walk on the building blocks they made.
She yearned to go inside, take some shots, and explore it. But it was April, it was warm, and there were lots of places for creepy crawlie things to hide. In the end, she decided to return if Matt came up to visit. There was safety in numbers, even if snakes couldn't count.
It was closing time and all but those tourists spending the night were gone. Dustin and Lydia were pulling out as she pulled in, leaving her disappointed that she wouldn’t have anyone to visit with. It was Julie’s night off.
No matter, though, she thought. She had work to do. She could pop in her movie and finish her sketching in her room. It wasn’t like she didn’t have things to keep her occupied. And she still needed to call Matt back.
But Taryn was lonely.
Thanks to her picture taking earlier that afternoon, Miss Dixie’s battery was depleted. Before hopping into the shower Taryn took it out and plugged the battery in above the little desk.
She turned the shower on in the small bathroom and let the hot water flow but, once undressed, decided her muscles and joints ached too much to stand; a bath would be better. She poured a cup full of Epsom salt into the hot water and soon the mirror was cloudy from the steam.
Taryn lowered herself into water hot enough to scald most people and let herself sink up to her nose in bubbles. She was the only one staying in her building that night after all, the couple had checked out, and she felt oddly alone; isolated despite the fact there were people on the other side of the park eating dinner.
It was growing dark outside and the lanterns were already on, illuminating the pathways. She wanted to get outside and take some nighttime shots but would need to wait for a full moon to get the proper lighting. Her best flash broke in March and she hadn't earned enough money yet to replace it. She hoped this job would pay all her bills and let her treat herself. Her photography was just a hobby since it didn't earn her any money but she couldn't give it up; it was the most important thing in the world to her. Well, after Matt of course.
From the bedroom she could hear her phone ring as if on c
ue, the love theme from The Princess Bride. It was Matt, calling her back once she hadn’t gotten back in touch with him. It rang three times then stopped. He didn’t leave a message. She thought about getting out, bringing the phone to the bath, and returning his call but she was too relaxed. She might even doze a little, wait until the water was tepid before getting out.
Taryn closed her eyes and stretched her tired legs out in front of her, moaning a little as her muscles relaxed. The Shakers would definitely not approve of such a luxury, although they surely had to bathe themselves at some point. They did have bath houses, after all.
So relaxed was she that when her bedroom door opened, the tiniest of sounds, she didn’t even flinch. It was a faraway noise, not part of her world. On some level she was aware of the heavy footsteps that stomped across her floor, around her bed, but they didn’t faze her; she was lost in a world of soft music that played through her head and the memory of a warm summer day that wasn't hers.
The air might have changed, gotten a little cooler. Later she would remember feeling a drop of temperature even through the hot water of her bath. Deep breathing pulsated rhythmically as the thing in her bedroom wandered. And searched. This thing, no longer alive or human, could sense her, smell her, and even taste her when it opened its mouth and flicked out its serpent tongue. Its dry, cracked lips bled, with little drops falling to the ground and vanishing as soon as they touched the wood. Its claws, no longer hands, curled up and clenched, imagining her smooth white skin torn, bruised and bleeding under them. Her aroma was everywhere and it sought it out, inhaling her hairbrush on the bureau, her lavender bra tossed over the ladder-back chair, her discarded cotton underwear on the floor...With each breath it took in it wanted more and so it snarled in anger, eyes flashing and black as coal. So close, so close...
Someone’s in my room, Taryn thought dreamily, feeling the water swirl around her stomach.
Someone’s in my room!?
In a flash she broke from her reverie and sat up straight, ears alert. The noise, then. It had stopped. She sensed that whatever had been there was gone now but, oh, whatever it was had left something behind–something blistering and pungent. She gagged a little, the fermented scent assaulting her nose, mouth, and skin all at once. Her room was pitch black now. She’d forgotten to leave on a light and there was no moon shining through the window. Aware of her nakedness and defenselessness, not even a curling iron to whack anyone over the head with, she held her breath and trained her ears to the sounds. The footsteps had stopped but she thought she could hear breathing, male and rugged.
Oh my God, she moaned inwardly. At least two different people have tried to kill me and now I am going to die in the bathtub.
Her heartbeat was so loud she could hear it in her ears, a rushing sound that made her shake her head to clear it away.
Although nothing moved beyond her, there was a rhythmic undulation in the walls, a sliver of electrical energy that made the tiny hairs on her arms stand at point. Whatever had been there might be gone but something else was there now and, what's more, he or she was aware of her. They were both waiting to see who would make the next move.
Well, she wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
Since she’d left all her toiletries in the bedroom she didn’t have anything to grab onto. However, the back of the toilet did come off and she could do some serious damage with that, despite her lack of upper body strength. The element of surprise was her best bet.
In a flash, Taryn sprung from the water and grabbed at the porcelain. In one fluid movement she ran out of the bathroom, the heavy piece held high above her head by force of sheer adrenalin.
She wasn’t ready for what she saw.
Above her desk, sizable sparks flew out in a show of fire. Her camera battery was aflame. The smoke was already filling the room at an alarming rate, thick and putrid. That wasn’t the reason she stopped in her tracks, however.
The shadowy figure who stood by the desk had no distinct features. She could tell it was a man by height and build only. He seemed to be doing something to her wall. At first she thought he was causing the fire and she opened her mouth to scream at him, still unsure if she was seeing things or if he was a good Samaritan who'd simply broken in to help after seeing the smoke and flames from outside. But before she even had time to register what was happening the figure seemed to walk into the wall, into the flames, and they disappeared with him, as though they’d never been there at all, with only the smoke left behind.
Maintenance tried to assure her it wasn’t her fault.
“You’re just lucky you weren’t sleeping or taking a shower,” Bert, a heavyset fellow with meaty hands and a head full of wiry, gray hair, barked. “These things can get bad real fast.”
Taryn was lucky she’d remembered to throw on some clothes before dialing the front desk. She’d opened the window to let the smoke out before she remembered she was still stark naked and dripping bathwater, leaving a trail of bubbles back to the bathroom.
Although there wasn’t any real damage to the room she’d have to move to the other side of the building, just to give them a chance to check everything out. It didn’t take her long to throw everything into her suitcases and the men helped her lug them across the hall. “You need anything?” Bert asked, a little softer now.
“I could use some caffeine,” she answered.
“I've got a Coke machine by the office. It's on me if you want,” he offered.
Taryn accepted gratefully and climbed into the park's golf cart.
As they roared off into the night Taryn took another look up at the building. Her window was still open; the curtain fluttered in the breeze. And a pale, lonesome face gazed down at her and watched.
Chapter 5
“At least you’re okay,” Matt sighed into the phone. “You’re lucky, though, that you weren’t out when it happened.”
“I know; I’ve thought about that,” Taryn admitted. Losing her stuff would’ve been awful but the historic building burning to the ground would’ve been worse.
She hadn’t told him about the figure in her room or the sounds that alerted her to the fire in the first place. She was sick and tired of thinking about ghosts. Sometimes she just wanted to move on to something else. They’d never been a part of her life until a year ago and now it felt like they were all she thought about.
“Any chance you can come up and see me?” she asked and then felt instantly guilty. He’d taken more than a month off back in the fall. And it wasn’t like she was clingy or needy. She just missed his company.
“I looked at plane tickets for the end of the month,” Matt replied. “I might be able to make it then. I’ll know tomorrow when we have our meeting.”
Matt didn’t think his department could run without him. He was probably right. She could have taken a day or two off and gone to Florida to see him but Taryn just wasn’t really into the area where he lived. The suburb outside of Orlando was nice, and he had a good little house she felt comfortable in, but it was blazing hot even in the spring and she always felt like she was swimming through the air. Matt preferred his house to be dark, too, to help keep it cool so the curtains were always pulled tightly together. When Taryn was there she felt like she was living in a cold, dark cave.
On the plus side, he did enjoy cooking and she always left having gained at least three pounds.
“I meant to tell you,” Matt broke in, interrupting her thoughts. “I had a dream about you last night.”
“Was it a dirty one?” she teased him.
“Not that time. It actually disturbed me.”
“Yikes. What was I doing?” she asked with interest. Matt’s dreams were normally abstract, a collection of colors and scenes that had no real plot or direction.
“You were running, crying,” he worried in a strangled voice. “I could see you and hear you but couldn’t get to you. There was someone after you.”
“Well that doesn’t sound nice,” she tried to joke,
but felt unsettled. “Did you see what he looked like?”
“No, faceless I guess. What bothered me was–“ he stopped talking and laughed a little strangled sound.
“What?” Taryn pressed. He couldn’t stop now.
“Oh, it’s strange. I could see you running and I could see him after you but for a second it was like I was him. And I could feel what he was feeling.” Matt stopped talking again, took a drink of something, then continued. “He wanted you. He wanted to touch you, grab you, put his hands everywhere. But there was rage, too. I’ve never felt so angry myself but it was just consuming him. He wanted to tear you apart. And I felt that.”
“Geeze, Matt,” Taryn laughed nervously. “Are you hiding something from me?” Although it was kind of funny to think of cool-as-a-cucumber Matt trying to hurt her.
“Oh, God n-no,” Matt stuttered, aghast. “I’ve never felt like that in my life, not even when people cut me off in parking lots and you know how mad that makes me. This was something else. It just lasted for a teeny second and then I was awake. But I felt terrible, like it was my fault he was chasing you. I don’t know. I didn’t like it. It’s been on my mind all day.”
“There’s nobody after me here,” Taryn assured him. “Everyone is real nice and I don’t think anyone is going to be chasing me any time soon. I know how to scream, anyway, and can kick like a mule.”
“Yeah, well, still…” Matt, who had pulled her out of more scrapes than either would like to admit, was not entirely convinced. “Just watch yourself. Evil comes in many forms and you of all people should be aware of that.”
Taryn’s new room looked pretty much like her other one did, sans the big black smudge above the desk and lack of suffocating smoke smell.
Shaker Town (Taryn's Camera Book 4) Page 5
