I dropped it, flexing my fingers. Blood ran down my hands, and I picked out a few large pieces of glass.
“Shit.” There was nothing in the room I could use as a bandage, so I grabbed a large chunk of glass from the mattress and pulled at the t-shirt under the coat I wore. I grimaced at the image of The Princess Bride and cursed again. “I loved this shirt.”
I hacked at the hem with the piece of glass, cutting more of my fingers in the process. After five minutes, I had a shirt several inches shorter, and fabric tied in awkward knots around my fingers. It wasn’t ideal, but in the process, I learned most of the cuts weren’t deep. Thank God for small favors.
I buttoned my coat shut over my now exposed midriff, and sat on the floor. This wasn’t quite how I envisioned this whole operation ending. If something didn’t give soon, I’d end up like Haven’s mother, or worse. The parting line about psychics never being ghosts inched its way into my subconscious
I racked my brain, and she was right. You never heard about psychics haunting somewhere. While I didn’t know why, somehow the thought made me queasy. What did they want from me?
“Stop thinking so hard, Claire.” The sound of my own voice broken into the stillness like a hammer through ice. “You can handle this. You have handled worse.”
Except then, I knew I would be leaving. This time the outcome was uncertain. My hopes all rested with Haven and Grant. The best I could hope for was that they would find me soon.
***
I’m not sure how long I sat there, curled against the wall in the corner, with the mattress propped up as a makeshift shield. I focused my energy on breathing, ignoring the burn of hunger in my gut. It was hard, but I kept the whispering, angry voices out of my head.
They pressed hard, as if testing my mind, looking for weaknesses. The room grew cold as the light from the window dimmed and then disappeared entirely. The darkness nearly put me over the edge. It was complete and as thick as molasses. I waved a hand in front of my nose, and could only see a hint of movement if I strained my eyes.
Shivering, I whispered more prayers than I ever had in my entire life combined. Anything to get out of the room.
Anything?
“Shut up.” I snapped. Needing to move and stretch, I shifted the mattress to the side and got to my feet. I kept my fingers on the wall and made my way to the window. There were no stars. Only darkness and a faint yellow light from the porch. Nothing that could help me. Water slapped against the glass as I watched, and a drizzle started.
It fit the mood pretty well.
I moved back to my corner and curled up again, resting my head on my knees. The rain drummed a soft rhythm on the roof. Despite everything else, my eyes grew heavy. This was no time for sleep. I could feel eyes on me, watching and waiting. They’d already proven they could do damage if they wanted.
A giggle, high-pitched and breathy, echoed from the other side of the room. Adrenaline rushed through me, and my whole body froze. I strained my ears, listening for anything else. Long moments stretched, but there was nothing but silence in the blackness. As I started to relax again, the sound of small feet approaching made me grab the mattress barrier.
A faint bluish glow began in the center of the room, five feet from me. At first I thought my eyes played tricks on me. But it grew, the center growing intense, like the center of a flame. As it got larger, the glow became the hazy outline of a young girl, long ringlets surrounding a chubby face, with a lopsided bow peeking over the top of her head. She wore a blue dress and a white frilly pinafore.
Terror brought a cold sweat to my forehead. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop my mouth.
“What is this? My own personal version of The Christmas Carol? I don’t know if you all have noticed, but it’s the wrong time of year.”
The cherubic smile morphed into a snarl, then back again. The change happened so fast, I could have imagined it. Didn’t matter. I remembered that pinafore and mouth of needle-teeth. She drew close enough for me to see the stitching in her clothing, and I pressed my back against the wall.
Help me.
“Not a chance.”
You can’t leave me here to decay like the rest. Look at me. I did not deserve the fate I’ve been sentenced to.
I snorted. “Big words for a small girl.” Her smile slipped and the image wavered, and I caught glimpse of a more horrifying vision. “It’s a good likeness though, I must give you credit for that.”
You refuse?
“Helping you would be like mistaking a shark for a guppy. I’m not stupid.”
Please. Big crocodile tears welled up in the small face.
Though it did tug at my emotions, I had seen what lay beneath, and I knew better than to believe it. I shook my head. “You’re lying in word and form. Who are you really?”
Not who. What. I am your nightmares, each one, merged into one form.
Great.
“Is this the plan? Annoy me to death?”
You can’t fool us. We know you.
I stood up. I might end up dead or mad, but I wasn’t going to do it cowering in a corner. “Like hell.”
Not like. This is hell.
Chapter Thirty
The child in front of me flickered, like a television image during a bad storm. Each time she blinked in and out, the image alternated with some of the other ghosts. The woman with soulless eyes, another blond-haired woman with no face, just patches of skin sewn on with clumsy stitches. Men, children, all of them with various gruesome facades.
I squeezed my eyes shut, but the images were in my mind as well. The voices started again, more distinct this time. Louder. Each one cried out for different things, but all of them insisted only I could provide what they needed.
Peace.
Revenge.
Love.
Life.
Death.
Emotion and need mixed together until it was as if I was the only still point in a world spinning out of control. I hugged myself, forced back bile that burned the back of my throat. I knew I had to keep them from getting any further in my head. If I couldn’t, I’d be trapped in this hell with them for eternity.
Abruptly, everything stopped. The pressure released, and I found myself lying on the floor, my knees throbbing. A whimper escaped and I curled into a ball. Pain radiated through my temples, and tears wet my cheeks.
You will not listen. A challenge we have yet to encounter.
There was a pause.
It is more enjoyable than we expected, but it cannot last.
The voice was softer, distracted. I didn’t know what had turned its attention, but I prayed it took it farther away.
Maybe God heard me. Maybe I got lucky. Either way, as I passed out again, the voices seemed more distant.
***
Melanie stood over me when I opened my eyes.
“I really hope you aren’t going to make a point of this.” I threw an arm over my eyes.
As soon as I sat up three things because apparent: I needed food, the bathroom, and a bottle or two of aspirin.
“Get up already. Haven’s in the house, looking for you.”
“What?” I got to my feet, grabbing the bed frame for support when the room spun. I stumbled to the door, pounding on it with all the strength I had left.
“You’re a wuss.” Melanie’s lips turned up in disgust and she stuck her head through the wall. “He’s coming upstairs. They’ve still got you in here soundproof. You’re going to have to do better than a tap on the wall.”
My mind only focused on Haven’s name. I debated opening myself up and reaching out for him, even started.
Melanie managed enough energy to zap me. “Stop it. Why else do you think they allowed him in here? They aren’t stupid. Unlike some people.”
I kicked at the door, screamed at the top of my lungs. The walls absorbed the noise like a sponge. I slammed my knuckles into the door and let out a frustrated screech. “I am not go
ing to die in this room like a rat!”
Melanie stuck her head out again. “He’s down the hall, but he looks confused. Keep going!”
I yelled his name, over and over, pounded the door with one fist, and rattled the knob with the other. Then, and it was so slight I almost didn’t notice, the door handle seemed to warm a bit.
Melanie jumped back. “He’s out there. I think he can actually hear you.” She stared at the door, almost as if she were trying to decide if this was okay or not.
Faintly, as if from a distance, I heard Haven’s muffled voice. I renewed my yelling and pulled hard on the handle. Melanie stood off to the side, growing fainter. She saw my glance and waved.
The doorknob turned, and I jumped out of the way as the door burst open.
“Claire!”
I launched myself at Haven, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Thank you, God. Thank you, Haven!”
He kissed me, hard, and I returned it, my hands fisting in his shirt. He kept it brief, pulling away and grabbing my hand. “We have to get going before your mom gets back.”
“Where’s Grant?”
“He’s already at my house, entertaining my grandmother.”
We headed downstairs. I nearly fell on the last flight when the little girl appeared at the bottom. Haven paused, pushing me behind him with one arm.
“No effing way,” I snarled, one hand outstretched. “She’s going to let me pass, or I’ll show her what hell could be like.”
The smile on those childish lips widened, revealing her unnatural teeth. Haven grunted, and my hair stand on end. Instead of staying put, I grabbed his hand and barreled through, gasping at the cold that passed over me when I ran through her.
Haven gasped but didn’t pause, following close behind me. I threw open the front door and nearly toppled down the front steps. He hooked his hands under my arms, pulled me against his chest again.
Outside, I finally felt like I could breathe, but my knees were unsteady and I allowed Haven to worry about keeping me upright.
“That was really stupid.”
“They weren’t going to stop us.” I turned in his arms and rubbed my cheek against his chest, making sure he was real.
“You couldn’t know for sure.”
Hysterical laughter broke free from my chest. “Yes, yes I can. After the night I spent…” A thought crossed my mind, and my chest tightened with panic. “It was only one night, right? It’s still Thursday?”
Haven made a low growl in his throat. Moisture shimmered in his eyes. “It’s still Thursday.”
I dropped my forehead to his chest. “Thank you for coming back. If it had been any longer…”
The tension of the moment was broken by a long rumble from my stomach. Haven kept an arm around my waist and pushed me toward the woods. “Come on, we’ll get you back to my house and you can get something to eat and tell me what happened. If you’re ready. Besides, I have someone who is desperate to talk to you.”
***
Grant didn’t even let me get inside before he wrapped arms around me and squeezed. My brother didn’t do physical displays of emotion. I hugged him back, tears leaking from my eyes. Now they’d started, it was hard to get them to stop.
“Next time, I’m going with you and we’ll get somebody else to make a distraction.”
“I love you too, Grant.”
He pulled away and wiped at his eyes. I didn’t comment on the moisture there. Haven took the coat I shed, and I headed straight for the bathroom. As I washed my hands, he knocked on the door.
I called out for him to come in, while I unwrapped my makeshift bandages from my hands.
“What the hell happened? I was so worried about getting you out; I didn’t notice this,” Haven said. He took one hand, gently turning it over and examining it.
“I had a run in with an unfriendly mirror. It could have been much worse, believe me.”
The muscles in his jaw clenched and unclenched. “I’ll get some antibiotic ointment and see if we have any gauze.”
He turned before I could protest. Now that the cuts had been washed, a few bled sluggishly, but I didn’t think they looked as bad. He came back with a partial roll of gauze, ointment, and a bag. He set it all on the counter next to me.
“Your brother brought over a bag of your stuff. I thought maybe you’d want a shower while I make some dinner.”
“You’re a mind reader,” I said, grabbing the bag.
One corner of his mouth twitched. “No, clairvoyant, remember?”
“Semantics.”
I shooed him out and shut the door. The bag was stuffed full of clothes, and I fished out a pair of pajama pants, an oversize T-shirt, and underthings. Grant had even packed my hairbrush and toothbrush.
I cranked the water as hot as I could stand it and shed my clothes. The water stung my hands, but I reveled in the knowledge I was alive and my mind still intact. Nightmares would plague me—they hovered in the recesses of my head. But I could wake from them, not be trapped in one endless cycle of fear. I’d be grateful for it. With time, they would fade.
I climbed out of the shower, dried off and dressed. My hair hung down my back in wet waves, but I didn’t feel like hunting for a hair tie I grabbed the gauze and ointment and headed for the living room.
Grant sat on the couch, his cell next to him and the remote in one hand. “Hey. Feel better?”
“You have no idea.” I sighed, the couch feeling like a cloud after my night of hard floors. “Could you help me with this?”
Grant frowned at the cuts, but nodded. “Do I even want to know?”
“Not right now. Maybe later, okay?”
He spread the cream over the cuts and nodded. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Me too.”
He carefully wrapped each of the cut fingers, then rolled up the rest of the gauze and sat back. “I called Cain while you were in the shower and let him know what was going on. He said they were still coming, and he would be sure they were all aware of the possible dangers.” He paused. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
I shrugged. “We have to do something, Grant. We can’t stay there as is, and we haven’t got anywhere else to go. Besides, we can’t leave Mom there.”
“I know. But it’s getting too intense, and I feel like this isn’t going to end well.”
I patted his hand, but I didn’t disagree. How could I? We all felt that way. Well, except for Laura and Bryan, but they were the exception, not the rule. My stomach let out a loud rumble, and Grant loosed a short bark of laughter.
“Sorry.” He smiled wide. “It would seem you’re hungry. I think Haven’s about got dinner ready. Shall we?”
I nodded, and we headed into the small kitchen. Pasta let off curls of steam in a colander next to the sink, while a pot of Swedish meatballs bubbled on the stove. Haven stuck spoons in each dish and then turned to face us.
“Dinner is served.” He motioned to the stack of bowls on the counter and moved out of the way.
I grabbed one and began serving myself. “Thanks. It smells great.” I filled my bowl and headed for the table. “Where’s your grandmother? Who wanted to see me?”
Haven and Grant exchanged a look I couldn’t read.
“Grandmother and Mom are both resting. I thought you’d want to eat before dealing with Mom.” Haven brought over his dinner and took the chair next to me.
“She’s been babbling hysterically about you since Haven brought her here.” Grant took the seat across from me and dug his fork in. “She wore herself out with it.”
I chewed, letting them do the talking.
Haven stared at his food. “Vale always helped her keep things sorted out, but he doesn’t seem to be around now.”
“He’s not.” I took a sip of the cup of water left on the table for me. “He helped me find her, but somehow in the process he had to trade his freedom in. The spirits in the house have him now.”
> Memories of the voices made my stomach turn, but I pushed them aside and continued to shovel food into my mouth.
“What else did you find out in there?”
I swallowed. “A lot. Vale isn’t your father. He’s your great-great-grandfather. There’s a spirit we don’t know about behind a great many things, and there’s a fourth floor we have to find.”
Grant and Haven stared.
“Anything else?” Grant asked.
I shivered in spite of myself. “Let’s finish dinner, then we can talk.”
***
Haven’s grandmother blocked the hallway, arms crossed. “Haven Lucius Elliot, you are going to leave your poor mother alone. She’s been through enough, and I just got her calmed down.”
“It’s important, Grandmother.”
She shook her head. “It’s always important.” For a moment, she looked infinitely tired, as if this had been an argument she’d had many times with someone else.
Haven touched her arm. “Please.”
She stepped aside. “I can’t stop you, but I can tell you, if you damage her more, there’ll be the devil to pay.”
I sighed and stepped around Haven. “Mrs. Elliot, the devil’s already had his share. We’re trying to keep him from coming back for seconds.”
She blinked at me, then her lip curled and she stomped to her bedroom. The door slammed behind her, hard enough to make the pictures on the wall rattle. I looked back at Haven. “Sorry.”
He shrugged, then grabbed my hand and headed for his mother’s bedroom. He knocked on the door and waited until he heard her tell us to come in.
She sat in a wingchair next to the window, a book in her lap. She wasn’t reading. Her eyes were far away, staring out into a world I’d only gotten a glimpse of, and it had been more than enough. Tears made everything blurry.
A Whispered Darkness Page 23
