The School: A Supernatural Thriller (Val Ryker Series)

by Ann Voss Peterson

  She was going to be sick.

  A sound came from behind her. Scratching. Skittering.

  She swung her light around, focusing on a surge of white fur, pink eyes, and long, naked tails. The long bodies of rats, the tiny bodies of mice, a herd of vermin racing straight for her. She didn’t have a chance to move before claws were digging into her jeans, bodies climbing up her legs, inside her pant legs and out.

  Rachel screamed and kicked out, trying to dislodge the scrambling bodies. Several flew, others dug in. She spun to run for the door.

  A science bench blocked the way, one she swore was not there before. Unable to stop her momentum, she slammed into it, splaying her hands on the top, catching herself before her face hit the surface.

  Something moved inches from her nose. It took a second for her to remember the phone light in her hand and adjust her focus, but when she did, she forgot about the mice and rats.

  Tarantulas crept toward her across the black countertop, long-limbed and hairy.

  Rachel couldn’t think, couldn’t scream, couldn’t do anything at all. She stumbled away, bounced into another bench, and raced for the door, rodents hanging on her legs, toad still attached to her wrist.

  Even though she was sure she’d left the door open, it was now closed. The faery messing with her.

  She grasped the knob and yanked, trying to turn it, fingers slipping. She had to get out. She couldn’t be stuck in here.

  Please, please, please.

  She pounded on the door. Rattled the knob. This wasn’t her son’s classroom, the one with Mrs. Edwards, the one he’d loved so much. It was a nightmare, straight out of her past, but worse than anything she’d lived through. And somehow she had to figure out a way to esca—

  The knob turned. The door swung open.

  Rachel staggered into the hall. The scurrying sound followed. She tripped, almost went down, recovered her footing, bracing herself on those odd steel lockers.

  Steel lockers.

  She grasped the hasp, opened a locker, and squeezed inside, pulling it shut. Hooks dug into her shoulders, the upper shelf inspiring a cramp in her neck. The trident jabbed into her back, and she pulled it out of her waistband to stop the pain.

  The sound of scratching and squeaking reached a crescendo out in the hall. She fought to catch her breath, her whole body trembling, ready for the door to open and the flood of vermin to wash over her at any moment.

  A minute passed. Then two.

  The sounds faded, stopped. She hadn’t realized she’d been closing her eyes, not until she opened them, the glow from her phone illuminating the cramped space. She looked down at her legs, expecting to see mice clinging to her jeans, but they were gone. The toad was also gone, not a mark on her wrist, as if it had never been attached, as if it had never existed.

  When Nate had told her they were dealing with a faery, she hadn’t wanted to believe it. Even after finding the odd little trident and all the consecrating business, some part of her had refused to totally buy in. She’d gone along, because she trusted Nate. But if the cause of these hallucinations wasn’t paranormal, what was the alternative? That she was going crazy?

  Whatever the cause, everything had felt so real. The hands forcing her head into the toilet, giving her a whirly in the school bathroom, the scrabbling rats and mice, the toad tapping into her circulatory system, the spiders…

  She suppressed a shudder. She couldn’t let the wave of panic overtake her again. She had to think. The horror had ended when she closed herself in the locker. The locker had somehow protected her. The steel… It must be the steel…

  Even if the lockers were real only in her mind?

  Her phone light dimmed, the battery draining fast. If she was going to get out of here and find Josh, she needed to conserve power. She switched it to power saving mode, then turned off the light. She’d turn it back on once she was out in the hall.

  Scooping in a few more breaths, Rachel pictured the hall outside, mapping the route to the library in her mind. If she moved as quickly as she could, if she focused on finding Josh, maybe she could reach him before her mind got the best of her.

  Focus.

  Focus.

  She grasped the latch on the locker and lifted. It didn’t move.

  Feelings washed over her, high school memories of being pushed into her locker and locked inside. Humiliation. Fear. She thumped the door hoping to unstick it, tried the latch again, but it was no use. She was stuck.

  Another sound came from out in the hall.

  Who was out there? Nate? More nightmares? Friend or faery?

  Rachel leaned close to the locker’s ventilation slats and tried to see.

  A sliver of light bobbed in the hall, highlighting dust on the once-polished floor. “Mrs. Meier?”

  Rachel stifled a gasp.

  “My name is Agent Bradley.”

  Bradley. The one who was chasing them. The one who was after Nate.

  I know you’re in one of these lockers, Mrs. Meier. I heard the door slam, the banging like you’re trapped. If you tell me which one, I can get you out.”

  So Bradley could see the lockers now, too? Had the sound of her rattling the door been enough of a suggestion that his imagination had painted the rest of the picture?

  “I can help you, Mrs. Meier. I’m with the IPPO. You’ve heard of it? The organization your husband worked for? I’m here looking for a man who calls himself Nathan Wells. I’d rather tell you the rest of the bad news to your face, if you don’t mind. Which locker are you in?”

  Rachel didn’t answer. She’d never heard of this man until tonight, but it had been clear as a kick to the head that Nate didn’t trust him. Until Rachel knew more, she didn’t trust him either.

  “All right. I understand your confusion. This whole thing has been a mess. I wanted to talk to you, tell you the whole truth, but apparently Wells got to you first. There’s a lot you don’t know about him. A lot I can explain. Can you hear me, Mrs. Meier? You’re not hurt, are you?”

  Rachel didn’t answer. What was she going to say?

  “Okay. I hate to tell you this under these circumstances, but there’s a pressing reason I’m here. My agency just uncovered some very disturbing information which I’ve turned over to the police, and I think you deserve to know the truth. It appears as though Nate Wells killed your husband, Steven. Pushed him off the bluffs surrounding Devil’s Lake. And…”

  He paused, his breathing audible through the locker slats. “The police found evidence in the school earlier today that he now has your son.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nate paused twenty feet from the school door and scanned the playground for Rachel. He’d given Bradley quite a chase through the park and nature preserve, letting him get close now and then to take the heat off Rachel. The last few yards, only the officer who had accompanied Bradley had been able to keep up. Eventually Nate had lost them both.

  Still, the circuitous path he’d chosen had eaten a lot of time, plenty enough for Rachel to consecrate the trident and make it back. So where was she?

  “She’s inside.” The police chief stepped around the corner of the school and into his line of vision, the moonlight catching her blond hair, her hand resting on the butt of her pistol, still in the holster at her waist. “Even though we cleared the building this evening, she seems to still be convinced that her son is inside. Do you want to tell me why?”

  “You wouldn’t believe it.”

  “Try me.”

  Telling her the truth was pointless. Val Ryker struck him as a skeptical, reality-based woman. Spinning a wild story about a faery-infested school would either cause her to pull out the straightjacket or prove to her her that he was hiding something.

  Nate would try a different approach. “Have you looked into Bradley’s past? Or did he just flash his federal badge, and you jumped to follow orders?”

  “I know he currently works for the IPPO, if that’s what you mean.”

  “And he t
old you I used to work for them, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that I’m dangerous?”

  “He did.”

  “Did he mention why?”

  “He said you stole research.”

  “Stole?” That was a new one, but he supposed in a way, he had. “I destroyed research. I only stole what’s in my head. But Bradley doesn’t hope to get it back. He wants to make sure I don’t share what I know.”

  Ryker’s eyebrows rose. “So share.”

  Nate shook his head. “Like I said, you wouldn’t believe me. No one would.”

  “So if no one would believe you, why is he going to all this trouble?”

  “Good question. One I haven’t been able to answer just yet.” Although that didn’t mean Nate had no theories. In addition to silencing him, Bradley might be planning to recapture the faery, although Nate had his doubts that his former boss even knew the entity was in the school.

  But Bradley wasn’t Nate’s biggest concern at the moment. Getting past the police chief was. He splayed his hands out at his sides, palms up, trying to show he wasn’t a threat. “Listen, we’re wasting time. The real danger is inside that building with Rachel Meier and her son. I’m the only one who can get them out.”

  “Why only you?”

  “Because I understand what’s in there. What it is. What the IPPO tried to do to it. Why it’s so focused on Rachel and Josh now. That’s what Bradley wants to keep quiet.”

  The police chief slipped her hand off the butt of her gun. “I don’t trust Bradley. But I’m not sure I trust you, either.”

  “I care about Rachel and her son. I need to protect them. You have to let me.”

  Val Ryker said nothing, just watched him through those hard cop eyes.

  “I’m going in that building, chief. The only way you can stop me is to shoot me, exactly what Bradley wants. But then, none of us will ever find out what’s really going on. And I’m afraid no one will see Rachel and Josh Meier alive again.”

  He turned away from the cop and started walking for the door, his heart knocking hard enough to hear a mile away.

  Ten feet from the door. Five.

  “Nate?” the chief called. “I’ll be waiting for you when you get out.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He yanked the door open and stepped into the school.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Val watched Wells or Welks or whatever his real name was disappear down the long, dark hall before she moved to follow. She’d just reached out for the door handle when her radio fuzzed to life.

  “Chief?” Officer Jimmy Weiss sounded out of breath, panting over the phone.

  “What do you have, Jimmy?”

  “It’s Bradley. He broke off to check something a little while back, and now I can’t find him.”

  Why was she not surprised? “I think I know where he might be. I also located Nate Wells.”

  Val eyed the school doors. As of this evening every one of them was locked. She’d made sure of it. And yet she’d seen Rachel Meier slip in one and Wells open another. Who was to say Bradley couldn’t have infiltrated through a third? “Jimmy, meet me at the school right away. Door four.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Next Val called the night dispatcher, one of three who held down the fort on occasions Oneida had to do things like rest and live her life. “Ask the county to send a deputy or two. There’s something strange happening here at the old elementary school.”

  By the time Val ended the call, Weiss had joined her. She turned her attention back to the door handle, grabbing it and pulling—

  The door she’d just seen Wells enter was locked.

  “Jimmy? Run over and check door three.”

  He did as she asked and soon returned. “Locked.” He handed her the book Val had retrieved from the school library and given to Rachel earlier.

  Val stared at the book’s ornate cover. “Faeries, huh? Well faeries or not, I know someone who can get those doors open.”

  She pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number she knew by heart but tried never to use.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rachel sagged against the wall of the locker, the coat hook digging into her back. She felt dizzy, Agent Bradley’s words buzzing in her head like a swarm of bees.

  It appears as though Nate Wells killed your husband.

  The police found evidence in the school earlier today that he now has your son.

  Why on earth would Bradley say something like that?

  Why on earth would he think she’d believe him?

  He continued his monologue, his voice humming from a few feet away. “I know you’re probably shocked. I was, too. I’m still not sure I believe it. If we get out of this place, we can ask the police chief to explain her theories. The sooner the better. Now which locker are you in?”

  Rachel could hear his shoes on the floor, moving slowly down the hall toward her. She peered through the ventilation slats. At first she couldn’t see anything, the hall dark as ever, then the glow of his light once again moved into view.

  He was walking close to the row of lockers, his head canted to the side as if listening.

  Of course, he was listening. He was trying to hear her breathing.

  He moved closer. Three lockers away.

  Two.

  One.

  Rachel took a deep breath and held it, covering her mouth.

  He brought his ear close to the vents, just inches from Rachel’s face. The ambient flashlight glow reflected off his scalp. “I can hear you.”

  Rachel pressed her palm harder against her mouth, panic rising…

  A click sounded from down the hall, the sound of a door opening. “Rachel?”

  Nate.

  Bradley straightened, his flashlight bobbing as he reached for something with his free hand. Not just something. A pistol. The gun’s shape silhouetted in the glow.

  “Rach— Bradley. What did you do with Rachel?”

  Rachel pressed her hand hard enough to bruise her lips. The hall was so dark. She had no idea if Nate knew Bradley was armed. She had to warn him, but other than banging on the locker door and giving away her location to Bradley, she had no idea how.

  “She doesn’t matter, Wells. And Steven’s kid doesn’t matter. This is between you and me.”

  “What do you want? Besides me dead?”

  “That would cover it.”

  “What good is killing me going to do? You can’t get away with it.”

  “With self-defense? Yeah, I think I can.”

  “Self-defense? You’re the one with the gun. I’m unarmed.”

  Rachel let out a shuddering breath. At least Nate had seen the gun. Now she prayed he’d be careful and not rush in thinking he was protecting her.

  “Oh, we all know things like that can be manipulated. I’m the head of a government agency. I’m trusted. You? You’re a fired employee who killed his partner.”

  “Killed…” Nate said. “Steven?”

  “The phone call you had with him moments before he died is logged in his cell phone provider’s record,” Bradley continued. “You told him the faery had his wife and son in Devil’s Lake. You talked him into going up on those bluffs. After that, all you had to do was push.”

  Rachel shook her head. She didn’t believe it for a second.

  “Back up, Bradley,” Nate said, his voice much calmer than Rachel felt. “How did you know Steven thought the faery had Rachel and Josh? He was already in the park when he came up with that thought and called me. So how could you know about it unless you were there?”

  A hum rose in Rachel’s ears. There? Bradley was there?

  Bradley killed Steven?

  “You think you’re so damn smart,” Bradley said. “But what does it matter? You aren’t going to get a chance to share this theory of yours anyway.”

  Rachel couldn’t let Bradley kill Nate as he’d killed Steven. But what could she do from the inside of this locker?

  W
ait.

  This school didn’t have metal lockers. The one she was hiding in was stolen from her own memory. The fact that she was now stuck in it was another echo of the bullying she suffered in tenth grade. She could still feel the girls pushing her in, securing the padlock, and her banging on the door until her seventh hour teacher heard the uproar and enlisted a janitor to let her out.

  So this locker was in her mind. And that meant she might be able to gain control over it. The question was how?

  Rachel closed her eyes. She pictured the hall as it really was; trimmed by wooden shelves, coat hooks positioned underneath.

  No, no, wait.

  All that would do is put her out in the hall unprotected, no way to help Nate or herself. She needed something better.

  Think.

  That day… that day…

  She didn’t remember what her teacher had said to her, but she remembered the woman’s tone. Scolding. As if what had happened was all Rachel’s fault. The woman went to get help. Then Rachel waited. And waited. And finally Mr. Toleffson’s Old Spice cologne had drifted through the vents in the locker door. And he’d said something to her in his heavy northern Wisconsin accent. As with her teacher, Rachel didn’t remember his words, but she remembered the tone.

  Friendly.

  Compassionate.

  He’d made her feel as if being locked in her own locker wasn’t such a big deal, and that everything was going to be okay.

  Rachel found the latch with her finger, then taking a deep breath, she flicked it upward, releasing the door, and flung it open straight into Bradley.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nate heard the locker door clang into Bradley, heard his weapon skitter across the floor, his flashlight following, its beam now centered on the wall. He focused on the shadow that was Rachel. “Run!”

  Bradley fell to his knees, groping for the gun. And as soon as Rachel was clear, Nate launched a kick at the man’s bald head.

  Bradley brought up an arm, blocking the kick. But instead of striking back, he started to crawl.

  Nate strained to see in the dim light. He spotted a shape near the wall, darker than the floor around it.