“Whatever.”
“Want the bathroom first, or can I have it?” I stood and stretched.
“Go ahead. Wake me up when you’re done.” He rolled over and started snoring again.
I changed clothes, brushed my teeth, and pulled a comb through my hair. I twisted it into a loose braid. With each tug of my fingers my head throbbed, but my hair would be wild if I didn’t pull it back.
That done, I returned to the living room. Putting my pajamas on my pillow, I nudged Grant with one socked foot. “Your turn, bro. Get up!”
He mumbled a few rude words, but staggered to his feet and toward the bathroom. I padded into the kitchen. Half the cabinets were open and a bucket of soapy, brown water sat in the sink. Shelf liner had been cut and stacked on the counter.
“I got a head start on things. You two were really out. I figured you’d be awake the second I started making any noise, but you never twitched.”
Sliding into a seat, I accepted a glass of orange juice and snagged a piece of toast. “Being used as child labor does that to you.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re so mistreated and abused.”
I smiled at Mom, who returned to the cabinets. A step stool sat out next to the counter, and she climbed up, scrubbing the wooden shelf with a thick sponge. Dirt and grime caked it, floating on top of the bucket of water.
She sighed and climbed down. “This is the third bucket already, and I’ve just started. The house has been empty five years, but it seems like it might as well have been five hundred.”
“Maybe whoever lived here before neglected things a little.”
Her voice grew hard, and she glared at me. “It’s a crime what they’ve let happen here.”
“Okay. But we’re fixing it.” I didn’t know what to make of her sudden anger.
Grant stifled a yawn and sat down next to me. “When are we getting the rest of the stuff?”
Mom’s shoulders relaxed, and the crease in her brows smoothed. “As soon as you’re done eating, we’ll get on the road. I want to make sure we get back early this afternoon so we aren’t unloading in the dark.”
Icy fingers stroked down my back. Alone all day in this creepy house. Great.
“Okay.”
Mom smiled. “I’ll get this set up for you, Claire, and then grab my keys and purse. By the time I’ve gotten everything together, you’ll probably be done.”
She dumped the dirty water in the sink, and I grimaced at the amount of sludge swirling around the drain. It was good I put on the oldest clothes I owned, because it looked like I’d be getting dirty.
Mom finished refilling the bucket, and dropped the sponge into the water. “I’ll be back in a few.”
Grant continued to hoover his food.
I propped my chin on my hand. “You can breathe between bites, you know. No one’s going to take it from you.”
He rolled his eyes and scooped out the last bit of sugary mix. “I’m a growing boy.” He wiped his mouth with the back of one hand. “Claire?”
I stared at him.
“Are you going to be all right if we leave you today?”
Surprised, I nodded. “Why?”
“You were doing a lot of moaning in your sleep last night. And you were crying at one point. Something’s bothering you, and it isn’t just Dad.”
“Did I wake up Mom too?”
He brushed shaggy hair from his face. “No. You weren’t loud. I only noticed because I had trouble sleeping too. Too much pizza, new place, you know, too much everything.”
I did know. “I’ll be okay. I have to get past it sometime, right? Sooner the better, because we’re stuck here now.”
He slid from the chair and put his bowl in the other sink. “Well, I’ll leave my cell phone in my pocket. If you need me, call.”
Tears burned my eyes. Considering my brother was two years younger, sometimes he acted far more mature than his age. Especially since my “accident” two years ago.
“I mean it, Sis. Call if you need me.”
I nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
He headed toward the living room. As he stepped outside the room, I called him back. Anxiety pushed at my chest. “You were up last night. Did you notice anything…weird?”
He paused, but didn’t turn around. My stomach sank. Of course he hadn’t. Only I seemed to have such unusual problems.
“Yes.” He continued on his way, leaving me to stare after him, confused.
And strangely hopeful.
***
“We should be back before three. Work on things downstairs for now. I hate to leave all this to you, but we’ve got to get everything out today.”
I waved at Mom from the porch, only partially listening to the list of chores and tips she rattled off. Half my attention remained acutely aware of the dilapidated structure behind me. There was a presence about it. The skin between my shoulder blades twitched, as if someone stood behind me on the porch, and they weren’t pleased to see me.
“Honestly,” I whispered as Mom drove the moving truck out onto the road. “I’m not thrilled to be here.”
I turned and glared at the open doorway, the black rectangle like the maw of some great beast. “But we’re here, and there’s nowhere else to go. So you’re going to have to deal with it. Like it or not, we’re staying.”
I thought I heard a low growl emanate from the depths of the house. But it was so faint and quick, I couldn’t be sure. All the same, my heart pounded in my ears.
I have to try. I clenched my fists. I can’t be ruled by my fear. Not again.
Still, it didn’t stop the chills running down my back. I yanked open the screen door and stomped inside, headed for the kitchen. The key to the supernatural was the same as with any other wild creature: never let them sense fear.
I’d always been able to sense spirits. But after last year, things were different. I’d gotten too comfortable. Cocky. And I paid for it. Oh, had I paid for it.
Cabinets were as good a place as any to start. Maybe if I kept busy, I could ignore the feeling of eyes watching me. Hauling the bucket onto the counter, I fished in the lukewarm water for the sponge. As my fingers squeezed the slimy foam, another growl echoed around me, this one clear as day.
My heart stuttered, but I refused to look around. Nothing would be there anyway. I knew it as sure as I knew my name. Silence fell like a thick blanket. The noise from birds and distant traffic outside seemed muted.
Two distinct thumps vibrated the wall behind the cabinets, followed by another growl.
I jumped down from the counter, my whole body awash with tingling nerves. “I said that’s enough!” Fear battled with my anger as I strode into the hall. My anger for the divorce, the move, the state of the house, and the way my life had crumbled.
“Get over yourself and keep out of my way.”
Down the hall, which ended at a room that might have been a study, I saw a shadow pass across the doorway. Anger won over fear. “Do you hear me?”
Common sense told me to run and never look back. My stubbornness demanded I check out what I saw. The air grew colder the closer I got, but I pushed on, despite the shivers and puffs of visible air that thickened with each step.
The anger drained from my body, leaving me feeling stupid and afraid. The darkness back here was thicker. Like molasses, sticking to everything and dimming it. Boxes partially blocked the door to the room. I stopped several feet short of the threshold and stood on tiptoe, looking into the shadows. The room appeared to have become a dumping ground for whatever had been left in the house no one wanted.
“Great,” I muttered. “Not only will we have to move all our shit, we’ll have to move this too.”
Something stirred in the back, and I caught a faint squeak. My lip curled. “A mouse. I came back here for a frickin’ mouse.”
Shaking my head, I turned away and headed back to the kitchen. The silence in the house throbbed in my ears, and just w
hen I turned the corner, a loud bang made me jump.
I stood there, fists clenched, and then stuck my head around the doorway. The back room’s door was closed.
Staying inside with the silence was not going to be an option. With a deep breath, I ran into the living room, dug through my sleeping bag, and grabbed my iPod. Wiggling the ear buds into place, tunes jangled cheerfully in my ears and drowned out the oppressive silence.
***
It took two hours and by the time I finished, my knees were numb from kneeling on the countertops. I felt as dirty as a piece of gum on someone’s shoe. But the combination of hard work and music kept the growling entity in the house out of sight and mostly out of mind.
I brushed a damp strand of hair from my face and jumped to the floor. The room was massive, with tons of storage space. There were only the bottom shelves to get through, probably another hour of work.
We’d be lucky if to make the bottom floor livable before school started next week.
School. Another topic that made dread curl through my gut. The only thing I had going for me was no one here would know anything. I could start over with a clean slate. The idea made school more appealing.
My stomach rumbled, and I washed my hands, moving to the small bag of groceries Mom bought on the way here. I pulled a jar of peanut butter, a loaf of bread, and a plastic knife out to make a sandwich. My iPod beeped and I took it off, frowning when the low battery sign flashed across the screen. It had just been charged. No way it should have run out already.
I closed my eyes, opening the door in my mind a crack. Since the incident, I’d kept my psychic guards under tight control. So tight, I didn’t feel anything much out of the ordinary anymore. At least, not until we’d moved here.
A spirit in the house moved, aware I looked for them. The sense of satisfaction was there, and I slammed the block up again with a sigh. I’d never understood why ghosts went for my iPod battery first.
I wrapped the headphones around it and laid it on the counter, then took a seat, poured a cup of pop, and ate my lunch. Whatever lurked in the house, it was intelligent. A fact that spooked and annoyed me. How cliché was it to buy the hulking old house in the outskirts of town and discover a ghost? All we needed now was the whole cast of horror movie characters and we could have a party.
As I popped the last bite of bread and peanut butter in my mouth, the distinct click and rattle of a loose door handle ricocheted around the room. Quietly, I padded to the doorway and stuck my head out. The doorway at the end of the hall was open again.
Chapter Four
Claire.
The noise could have been anything. My heart rate sped up as I sat down on the couch with a groan.
Claire Mallory.
I sat up, my eyes wide. There was no mistaking that. My name. My whole name. Spoken aloud, I thought. My entire body trembled as I turned my head, taking in the whole room. Light filtered in through the window next to me, dust motes dancing in the light beams caused by the blinds.
A slight movement to my right, just in the corner of my eye, caught my attention. By the time I looked at the wide doorway leading to the hall, whatever had been there was long gone.
The house throbbed with silence again. Eyes watched me, though I couldn’t tell where. My palms were damp with sweat, and I rubbed them on the edge of my shorts. Once, I could have figured it out. Would have opened my mind and tried to contact whatever was there. But those days had ended, and fear of what might happen stopped me from trying.
“I can’t help you, if that’s what you want.” The whispered words were like a shout in the quiet.
There was no response; no change in the atmosphere. For a few long moments, I thought perhaps it was finished. Then I heard soft, running footsteps move across the ceiling, and I glanced upward. I sat like that, stock still with my heartbeat loud in my ears, for several minutes.
But it appeared that whatever called for me was not going to say anything else. I grabbed my cell phone from the coffee table and flicked a finger over the screen to check the time. Not nearly as late as I wished. Grant and Mom hadn’t called yet, which meant they hadn’t left. I had at least two hours, maybe more before they returned.
Two hours could be an eternity.
I’d plugged my iPod in and it should be charged by now. But it was in the kitchen, and I couldn’t bring myself to cross through the hallway again. The silence without music or ghostly bumps was so thick it felt like someone was screaming.
The longer I stayed in here, touched the doors, counters, and fabric of the house, the more I believed there had been a lot of screaming. By many people. The why and the reality of it were there, lurking under the surface. It made me uneasy. The house held secrets, and I was afraid of how they might reveal themselves.
There were plenty of boxes to unpack, things to clean, but I needed noise and a chance to calm myself. Moving off the couch slowly, listening to anything else, I went through Grant’s sleeping bag and found the remote. There was nothing on TV, but it didn’t matter. Anything to keep my mind off the house, the presence, and the strange goings-on.
***
Two hours later, an engine drew close and I heard a car door slam before the noise died. Never had I been so glad to hear that sound.
“Claire! We’re back!”
I rose, dusted my hands off on the back of my shorts, and headed for the front door. Grant met me there, a heavy load in his arms. Outside, the wind had kicked up, blowing the branches around wildly.
Mom fiddled with the back of the truck.
“Come on.” Grant pushed past, sliding the box in the doorway. “It’s going to pour any minute, and we’ve got to get the furniture inside. It’ll take all three of us. ”
I slipped on my sneakers and followed him outdoors. We managed to get the television stand, kitchen table and chairs, and all the bedroom furniture inside before the skies opened. Now we had to thread our way through a jungle of furniture, and there were still boxes in the back of the truck.
Mom stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, watching the rain.
“We might have to leave it there until tomorrow.” She sighed. “I’ll run out and pull down the door so nothing gets wet.”
Without waiting, she sprinted outside to the truck, yanking on the nylon strap that dangled from the bottom of the door, then ran back. I opened the door and stepped back, letting my dripping mother into the house.
“How about a hug?”
I squealed and ducked behind a dresser. “No way. But I’m sure Grant needs one.”
He appeared around the corner, and Mom wrapped her arms around him, laughing as he sputtered and wriggled away from her.
“You two should really shower. Being wet isn’t improving your smell.” I giggled.
Mom laughed and headed for the small bathroom, stopping long enough to grab her overnight bag from the living room. Grant stood across from me, a wet stain across his chest. “You think this is funny, don’t you?’
“Hilarious.”
He rolled his eyes. “You need to get out more.”
“Bite me.”
“No way. You reek.”
He chuckled and headed into the kitchen. I followed.
Grant poked his head in the refrigerator, then closed the door with a sigh. “There’s nothing to eat.”
“I was hoping for Chinese tonight.” I perched on a bar stool next to the kitchen island. “What do you think?”
“Don’t care as long as I get fed.” He glanced around. “You were busy today.”
“Had to be.”
His eyes refused to meet mine. “How was it? Quiet?”
I paused. “Sure.”
“You’re lying.”
With a sigh, I rubbed my face. “You really don’t want to know what happened today. You’ll get freaked out.”
“I knew it. This place is haunted isn’t it?”
I could deny it, but it wouldn’t do
any good. A few more days and it would be pretty obvious, unless whatever it was chose to stay hidden. Somehow, I didn’t think it would happen. “I think that’s a safe assumption.”
“Shit. Did you see anything?”
“Shadows and some noise.” I didn’t mention hearing my name. No need to get him worried.
Grant ran a hand over his face. He tried hard to hide it, but I could see the goose flesh rise on his arms. “Holy crap.”
“Don’t freak on me, Grant. You know how this works. No one else could see the last time. The same thing could happen here. Maybe I’m the only one who notices.”
Slowly his head shook. “No, I knew already.”
“What?”
“I had horrible nightmares last night. And when I woke up, I heard someone walking around upstairs. But we were all down here. At one point, I was certain I saw something watching us from the doorway.”
Happiness warred with worry. I couldn’t help being a little thrilled. This time, I wasn’t alone. No one could accuse me of being crazy if Grant saw it too. On the other hand, I didn’t want it for him either. He tried hard to be a macho man, but he was still my little brother.
“Do me a favor, Grant?”
He crossed his arms. “What?”
“Don’t tell Mom.”
His lips twisted up. “Of course not. Not after last time.”
I shivered. “Thanks.”
“I’m starving, and there’s not much we can do about it right now. Want to go get Chinese with me?”
I nodded, and Grant moved to stand in front of the bathroom door, yelling over the shower where we were going. Mom shouted an agreement and I grabbed my purse from the living room, stopping long enough to pull a couple bills from Mom’s wallet.
“Do you think it’s safe to leave her here alone?”
I pulled the keys to the car from the wall next to the door. “Mom’s still a skeptic, even after everything that’s happened.” I paused, listening to the house. Nothing besides the oppressive darkness that seemed normal for this place. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t want rid of us yet. She’ll be fine.”
A Whispered Darkness Page 2
