The Shattered Seam (Seam Stalkers Book 1)

by Kathleen Groger

  I wanted to call my parents. Wanted to get out of this death trap. I pulled out my phone, hoping and praying that somehow it was alive and had a signal, but it didn’t. Tears of anger and frustration welled in the corners of my eyes. I needed a distraction, needed to do something besides wait for someone else to go missing or die. I needed to find balance. I needed my sketchbook, but it was gone, like Chauncey and Randall.

  “If we can’t get the electricity back on, what are we going to do?” Marisol directed her question at Daniel.

  He jiggled wires and smacked the side of one monitor. “I don’t know.”

  Brett threw the empty bottle against the wall, smashing it to shards. “I can’t just sit around. I’m going to go look for a generator or something.” He stood and wobbled, but regained his balance. He pulled a flashlight from his pocket. “Anybody coming?”

  “We should really stay here together.” Daniel shook more wires. “Why won’t you work?”

  “Marisol? You want to walk outside to the spooky grounds with me?” Brett wagged his eyebrows up and down.

  Marisol scowled at the corner where she claimed the presence was hanging out. “Yes. I need to get some fresh air. The presence”—she nodded at the corner—“keeps trying to get into my head.”

  “On second thought, I’ll go too. Stupid equipment is pissing me off.” Daniel pushed his chair over.

  “Eric, Sam, are you two coming or staying?” Brett extended his hand to me.

  Stay. Go. Stay. Go. I couldn’t decide.

  Eric seemed equally torn. “We’ll stay. I don’t want Sam outside.”

  “Okay, suit yourselves.” Brett laced his arm through Marisol’s, and they practically strolled out of the room with Daniel stomping behind them.

  Some of the heavy oppressive feeling left the room with them. Maybe it was just Marisol and her oddity that caused the sensations. I smoothed my hair back.

  “How are you holding up?” Eric picked up the chair Daniel had knocked over and dropped into it. Lines I hadn’t seen before creased his face, making him look ten years older.

  I didn’t know how to answer him. I was beyond terrified. Everything I believed was now in question. I was a medium, ghosts were real, Randall was dead, and if all that was true, could demons possibly be real too?

  22

  “I’m—” My pocket buzzed. “My phone’s working. Thank God.” I pulled it out and read the text message aloud.

  “I need you.”

  “Really? Mine’s still dead.” Eric waved it in the air. “Is it Brett, since Daniel, the idiot, busted his?”

  “I don’t know. But I doubt it. There’s no number or name attached to it.” I tapped the screen to pull up the ID, but it went black. “What the hell?”

  Eric moved so he could look over my shoulder.

  “It’s not working again.” I banged the phone off my leg. “Stupid, good for nothing, piece of junk.”

  “Hang on. Your phone got a text without a number, then went back to being dead?” Eric bounced on the balls of his feet as if the crazy shenanigans of my phone was exciting stuff.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Sooo.” He dragged the word out. “The spirits might be using it like the spirit box to communicate with us.”

  “That’s not possible. Is it?”

  “Can I see it?”

  I slapped the phone into his open palm. “Sure. Have at it.”

  “Is there someone here with us?” Eric paused. The phone stayed black. “Did you use this device? Can you do it again?” He paused again.

  No response.

  “Probably some message that got lost in cyberspace when I entered the dead zone.”

  “Maybe, but unlikely.” Eric turned in a circle, looking at the ceiling. “Is there anyone who wants to talk with us? Can you make a noise?”

  No sound except the scuffing of his shoes. “You ask.” He handed me the phone.

  “What?”

  “Ask if anyone’s here. It might respond to you.”

  “You know, even if I do have abilities, I have no idea how to communicate with them.” And I didn’t want to learn either.

  “You asking won’t hurt anything.”

  He was right about that. At least the cameras couldn’t film me looking like a fool while I pretended to be a medium.

  “Is there anyone here?” I looked along the ceiling and in the corners. “Can you give us a sign?”

  A knocking sound echoed from another room.

  “Did you hear that?” Eric whispered. He ran to his table and reached for a camera, clicking button after button in an attempt to get it to turn on. “They’re still dead.”

  “Maybe it’s the others coming back.” A damp coldness formed a knot under my rib cage.

  “Ask it to do it again.”

  “Can you repeat that sound?”

  Knock.

  Had something—or someone—just answered me? Was it possible? All the hairs on my arms reached for the ceiling.

  “It sounded like it was coming from out there.” Eric kept hold of the dead camera and grabbed my arm, pulling me after him.

  We went out the door in the front of the room and into the main foyer. The faded medieval banners flapped in the light breeze that always seemed to exist in this part of the castle.

  Eric motioned for me to continue asking.

  “Can you make that sound again?” I stared at the starburst pattern.

  Cruuunk. Crack.

  Crashes rang out from the command center. We both spun around. “What was that?”

  “It sounded like something falling.”

  “The equipment!” Eric sprinted back into the room.

  I raced in behind him. All the video monitors were smashed and broken on the floor.

  “What the—? Are you kidding me?” Eric knelt beside the busted equipment. “Did you break the monitors?” he screamed. He picked up the folding chair and tossed it at the wall, breaking off one of the legs. “Why did you have to destroy my stuff?” Eric seemed to be on the edge of a meltdown. He crossed to the other side of the room and punched the wall. The wallpaper split and the plaster broke apart, cracks spider-webbing down from the hole he’d created. He wiped his bloody knuckles on his pants.

  Another banging sound resonated from somewhere on the other side of the castle.

  “Come on.” Eric stood, gave a last look at his busted equipment, and ran out the other door.

  A thud and a shattering of glass sounded from the second floor.

  “What was that?” My heart raced.

  “Let’s find out.” Excitement replaced the sadness and anger in Eric’s voice. He took off down the corridor and went up the grand staircase two steps at a time.

  Going upstairs didn’t seem like a good idea. I wanted to find Daniel and the others, not go chasing after strange sounds in a supposedly empty castle. By the time I made it to the top of the stairs, Eric was already halfway down the hall. He spread his arms out like he was praying for a miracle.

  “Can you make another noise?” He slowly turned in a circle.

  I moved one foot in front of the other down the hall toward him. “This is crazy. We should go back and wait for the others.”

  “We will. But first I gotta find out what’s making the noise.” He took a few more steps. “We owe it to Randall to find out the answer.”

  The hall seemed narrower than before. I ran my fingers across peels of the gaudy fleur-de-lis wallpaper and scuffed my boots across the scarred hardwood floors.

  Eric walked to an open doorway. “Check this out.” His voice went into TV mode.

  “What?”

  He pointed into the room. “Look.”

  I moved next to him and followed his finger. Shoe prints lined the dust-covered floor. “So? One of us was probably in there. Maybe me.” I put my foot next to one of the impressions. The shoe mark was much bigger than my size seven and seemed to be from a man’s dress shoe.

  “No one has shoes like that with them. An
d it doesn’t explain those.” He pointed halfway across the room, where the shoe prints turned into another kind of print.

  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I blinked and refocused. “Are those hoof marks?”

  “I think so. And not the kind made by horses.”

  I faced Eric. “Please don’t say it. I don’t want to hear the word.” Demons weren’t real.

  “Okay, I won’t say it, but you know what I’m thinking.”

  “Yeah, de—” A flash of color winked on my left. I spun around.

  The only light came from the windows to the courtyard and the window behind me, yet prisms of colored light danced along the floor and shimmied up the gilded wallpaper. I followed the rainbow display until a sinking feeling consumed my brain.

  “Eric?” My voice shook and wavered.

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you see the prisms?” I pointed to the ones waltzing across the wall.

  He shrugged. “They’re from the stained-glass windows.”

  “I want to agree with you, but the only stained-glass windows are at the back of the castle.” I gestured to the courtyard. “Blocked from view.”

  “Huh?” Eric spun around. “You’re right. Where are they coming from?” He walked closer to the continually shifting rainbows. They crept along the wall to the next doorway.

  “I don’t know. Do you think it’s weird?” The lights shifted farther down the wall, moving from door to door. “What’s causing them?”

  “Some spirits manifest as orbs of light. Is someone here? Do you want us to follow you?” Eric raised his voice. “Where do you want us to go?”

  Panic slammed through me. “You think we’re being led somewhere? Maybe we should go back to the command center.”

  The rainbow prisms shifted from the wall to Eric’s face, making him look like a circus clown.

  “They’re on your face.”

  “It feels cold and crystally, like when you go outside in the winter with wet hair. You know what I mean?” Eric ran his hands across his face. When he covered the lights, they disappeared.

  “They’re not a reflection. What’s happening?” I took a step back.

  “I’m not sure, but I want them off my face.” He scrubbed his face like he was trying to wash the prisms away. “It’s starting to hurt.”

  Thunk.

  Both of us turned toward the sound. “What was that?”

  I looked at Eric. “The lights are gone.”

  “My face burns.” His voice cracked.

  Welts dotted his cheeks and forehead, and his eyes glistened. “You’re all red.”

  Thunk.

  “The burning is going away.” He rubbed his cheeks. “We need to find what’s making that noise.” He jogged down the hall to another doorway.

  I came up behind him, and we both stared at a dark-stained wooden door. “Is that a bedroom?”

  “I think so.” He reached out, but before he could touch the knob, the door opened without a sound. “Did you open the door for us?”

  Silence answered.

  A full-sized bed draped in blue satin dominated the room and sat below the only window. Antique tables flanked the bed, and a four-drawer dresser sat opposite the bed. Two closed doors stood on the left and right walls from the bed.

  Eric inched into the room. “Did you make a noise from in here? Can you do it again?”

  An icy blast of air blew the ponytail off my neck. Heaviness crushed my lungs. I clutched at my chest, willing myself to breathe despite the oppressively dense air. I retreated, and the vise grip loosened its hold on my lungs. I sucked in deep breaths.

  “Come on, do something. Show us you’re here,” Eric yelled.

  I scanned the room, and my breath caught. The faded leather death book sat on the corner of the dresser. “Hey, the boo—”

  Something invisible yanked Eric to the ground.

  “Eric!” I launched myself forward, but the door slammed, smashing my face, separating him from me.

  I rubbed my nose and blinked back tears. My jaw hurt.

  “Eric!”

  I yanked and twisted on the doorknob. It didn’t budge. I pounded on the door. “Open up! Eric!”

  More pounding, more twisting. Still the door refused to open.

  Eric screamed. The fear and desperation in the sound shredded the thin lining of my stomach.

  Eric screamed again. Thuds and the sickening wet sound of flesh being beaten burned my ears. Someone or something was hurting Eric, and I couldn’t help him. “Eric! Answer me.”

  Helplessness consumed me. I pounded on the door until my knuckles were raw and bloody.

  “Whoever’s in the room, open the door. Now!”

  No one answered. I slumped against the locked door. Hot tears poured down my cheeks. My throat burned with a clinging dryness.

  I hit the door with the side of my fist. “Please. Please answer me.” My hand trailed down the door. My knees refused to support me any longer. “Eric!”

  A thudding noise reverberated through the door. Eric groaned. I sprung to my feet and tried to open the door again, but it remained locked. I had to do something. Had to save him.

  There were two other doors in the room. I raced to the next room on the right and stopped short in the doorframe. I didn’t know if it was safe to go in, but if I could help Eric, I had to do it. I slipped into the room and spun around to watch the door. Nothing happened. Releasing a deep breath, I scanned the four walls. The room had one other door on the opposite side from where Eric suffered. I ran and flung it open. It was a closet, empty except for a stained vintage cream-colored fringe dress. Cream dress. Marisol had described a spirit wearing a dress like this. I slammed the door.

  I went to the room to the left of the one Eric was locked in. I hesitated for a fraction of a heartbeat before I ran inside. Another empty bedroom. This one had a closed door on the correct side. Without considering what might be on the other side, I yanked the door open. A wall of heavy air slapped me across the face. I stumbled back from the force. “Eric?”

  He didn’t answer. And if I was honest, I hadn’t expected him to. I sucked in a deep breath and stepped forward. It was just another closet. This one completely bare. I ran my hands along the inner wall that would be the mate to the other room’s. The wall was smooth. No bumps, no divots, no hidden door latches, and no way to get into the other room.

  I ran back into the hallway and rattled the doorknob to the room trapping Eric. “Can you hear me? Eric?”

  No answer.

  “If you can hear me, can you hit the floor or the wall?”

  No answer.

  “Can you make any noise whatsoever?”

  Nothing.

  What was I supposed to do now? Stay here and pray the door mysteriously unlocked? Leave and find the others? If I left, I probably wouldn’t remember exactly which room Eric had been pulled into if the door was open when I came back. I needed to mark it somehow. I ran my fingers along the doorframe, searching for a seam in the wallpaper. When I found one, I tugged at it with my fingernail until the ancient glue gave way and the patterned paper loosened. I ripped a twelve-inch gash above and to the right of the doorknob.

  I faced the empty hallway. Forward or back? I didn’t want to be alone. I had to find the others. I needed to go back to the command center in hopes the others had returned. I ran down the hall, stood at the top of the front entryway, and glanced at the starburst pattern in the floor.

  “Is anybody here?” My voice echoed around the space. “Daniel? Marisol? Brett?” I yelled their names, praying someone would answer.

  Bang. Thud. Bump.

  The sounds came from behind me. I spun, desperately looking for something I could use as a weapon. The hallway was empty, and there wasn’t a darn thing I could use for protection.

  “Is there someone there?” I hated how my voice shook. “Chauncey, is it you? Did you come out of hiding?” I prayed it was the dog and not who—or what—had killed Randall. Oh God. Maybe the
re was some lunatic hiding in the castle. He could’ve murdered Randall and grabbed Eric. Why hadn’t the rest of the team come back? Goose bumps covered my skin, but sweat rimmed my hairline.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  It sounded like something being dragged across the hardwood floor. Maybe it was Eric. I darted toward the noise.

  I reached the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the courtyard and could see all the way to the hallway on the opposite side. Fear tightened my chest and forced all the air from my lungs; I saw Eric. He was on his back on the floor, his left leg extended into the air while the rest of him seemed limp and broken. I couldn’t tell, but it looked like blood ran down his face. He was being dragged by his left leg.

  And I couldn’t see what was dragging him.

  23

  “Eric!” I yelled, knowing full well that he couldn’t hear me. His head bumped along the floor, making his body bend in a way his bones shouldn’t have allowed. I had to get to the other side of the castle. I ran, losing sight of him when I turned the corner and went around the other side of the courtyard.

  The hallway was empty.

  “Eric!” Yelling helped keep a full-blown panic attack from surfacing. I stopped at every door, scanning every room to make sure he wasn’t there.

  He wasn’t in any of them. He’d disappeared.

  When I reached the back glass wall, I stopped, bent over, and clutched my side. How did everything get so messed up? I needed to find the others. Going down the stairs hidden in the turret would get me to the main level the quickest, and I would avoid going back along the hallways, where who knew what was lurking.

  Realizing how close I was to my old bedroom, I dashed inside and grabbed a gold candlestick from the dresser. While it wasn’t much of a weapon, its weight in my hand gave me the boost of confidence I lacked. I crept to the doorway, poked my head around the corner, and then sprinted to the hidden staircase.

  Clicking on my flashlight, I entered the turret and went down the steps. The scent of new, wet cement clung to the turret. I waved the candlestick back and forth, knocking aside cobwebs.