They went, Oliver bringing up the rear, breathing heavy. Rice led the way to Abigail’s room and stepped slowly inside. He had to duck his head to get through the antique doorway.
Gavin looked around the room. It looked like any teenage girl’s room might look, with a tendency toward the dark side. There were posters of the latest handsome stars, some Universal classic monsters, and a few other horror films. A couple of the posters had been ripped away. H.R. Giger prints lined one wall, with a calendar of dragon art near the nightstand. Her bookshelves had been tipped over, displaying piles of horror novels by authors that, as a mystery kind of guy, he didn’t recognize. The rest of the shelves were filled with manga and video games. But at the end of the bedroom, near a cracked upstairs window, the black tapestry with what looked like magic symbols painted in white was unrolled across the floor. Silver candelabras with burnt stubs of black candles sat at each corner around a circle, next to the strange triangle. Names in foreign languages and eldritch symbols were symmetrically aligned with the shapes. A book lay with its pages open and a glance at their contents told him they were prayers or incantations of some kind. The last thing he noticed was the door of the room, its hinges ripped free, leaning near where it had ripped posters from the sloped bedroom ceiling and wall.
“Hinges ripped free,” Gavin muttered.
“Just like the camper top,” Oliver said.
“This isn’t anything I’d say down there in the presence of the other folks, Chief,” Detective Rice said, “but I sense that you’re thinking about this the same way I am. I’m a God-fearing man. And I know what those kids up at Rainbow Falls described, and I’m willing to go out on a limb to say that what Becca Holman and her daughter described was another version of that thing, but more ... solid. As if it’s gaining strength somehow. Maybe this,” he motioned at the magick circle, “is part of it. I don’t know.”
Gavin regarded the detective. He searched his face, looking for signs that Rice was thinking the same way he was. He was sure he found those signs. “Do you think we’re dealing with a supernatural killer here, Jesse?”
Detective Jesse Rice gave the bedroom a once-over. “I think that at some point in a lawman’s career, if he does it long enough, he’ll come across something that doesn’t make a damn bit of sense any other way than crazy. Or supernatural. And that if you eliminate all possibility of this being anything other than a hoax, then you’re left with one option. And if you want my opinion ...”
“I do.”
“... this would take one hell of an effort to pull off as a hoax, especially the murders at Rainbow Falls. This is maybe not so impossible, perhaps in this case the murder was done in some kind of a monster suit, but really, the strength it would require to do what was done downstairs ...” He shrugged. Rice looked at the magick circle on the floor. “Frankly, Gavin, the thing that disturbs me most is this symbol. It’s worth questioning the girl to see if there’s anything she’s not telling. I guess I’m a bit superstitious when it comes to this sort of thing. That’s what growing up in church will do for you.” He gave them a genuine smile. “While I’ve seen some hokey wanna-be Satanists in my time, none of them gave me the same feeling I have standing in this house, reflecting on what those ladies told us this morning.”
Oliver shifted, looked around the room a last time, then looked at Gavin with pressed lips. Gavin nodded at both of them.
“I’ve got to get my daughter off to school, gentlemen. I’ll meet you both at the station at eleven—if you can join us, that is.”
Detective Rice nodded. “Be glad to.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
All of Carly’s calls to Abigail’s phone had gone unanswered yesterday, and Dad was gone all day, so when the call came in on her phone during second period the next morning, she immediately stood up and left the classroom.
“Uh, Miss Wagner?” Mrs. Grant’s voice rose in consternation as Carly left the classroom in a hurry and went into the hall. The door had barely swung closed behind her when she answered the call.
“Abigail?”
“Carly.”
“Oh my god, Abi. How are you? Jesus ... my Dad was driving me to school yesterday and we went by your house and ... God, Abi, are you okay?”
“Yes, we’re ...” Instantly Carly heard the strain in her friend’s voice. She sounded like she was on the verge of collapse. “We’re okay, I guess. But Carly, oh Care-bear ... I did something terrible. Something awful.”
A vision of Abigail’s collection of witchcraft and spell books came immediately to mind. Carly’s skin wormed over her arms and down her back. “What happened, Abi?”
“I need your help, Carly.”
“Anything.”
“I need to go to the old witch’s house. And I need you to go with me. I can’t go alone. I just can’t.” She heard Abigail sniff back tears, her voice tight with misery.
“Okay, but why?”
“I can’t talk about it right now. My mom’s in the shower and ... it’s better if I tell you in person. Meet me up at the Country Inn after school, okay? We’re in room two-one-three.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“Thanks, Carly. I love you.”
“I-I love you, too, Abi. Hang in there.”
She hung up the phone and looked at it as the realization of what she’d just agreed to sank in. Suddenly the door of the classroom swung open and the grizzled face of Mrs. Grant scowled down at her like a vulture from a desert tree.
“Care to rejoin us, Miss Wagner, or would you prefer to visit Mr. Andersson’s office instead?”
The students in the classroom snickered and made comments under their breath as she went back in and took her seat.
* * *
Carly hopped down the front steps of the school, careful to avoid the remaining patches of ice where salt hadn’t been spread. The sky was blue with just a few clouds, the crest of Pikes Peak white and majestic in the distance above a roving sea of lower mountains she could see from the front lawn of the school. Despite the sun, the air was still crisp. Her breath plumed from her lips as she considered calling her Dad for a ride up to talk to Abigail, but immediately nixed the idea. She suspected that Dad still had a lot of questions about Abigail. She knew just from the way he acted last night at dinner that he felt there were things she wasn’t saying. So, Carly called her father and left a message that she was going to Sutter’s Books for some coffee with a few friends before heading home.
The cold brushed raw against her cheeks, and she had just resigned herself to a long and brutal walk across town when she saw Ryan and Andy over by Ethan’s black Mustang. He had the car idling like he’d been on his way out of the parking lot when the guys stopped him. Just the sight of his car was enough to make her feel like she’d taken a kick to the ribs. Even with all that had happened, she hadn’t forgotten the pain of that picture, the suspicions she now had that cast aspersions on all of her dreams for a future with him. She still felt very much betrayed, despite what he’d said. The impact of his words on the phone had faded, but the image of the picture was still burned into her mind.
Carly paused near the crosswalk heading toward the student parking lot. She looked too long before she turned and walked the other way; he spotted her.
“Carly!” Ethan’s voice echoed across the lot.
Damn it.
She kept walking, her legs scissoring purposefully with the intent of getting as far away as possible.
“Carly, wait!”
Ryan and Andy said hasty goodbyes. Ethan parked, slammed the door of his car, and ran after her. She heard his footsteps crunching in the snow as he caught up with her. She expected his touch on her shoulder, expected that he might gently take her elbow, and she was ready to recoil from it, to pull away. But he didn’t touch her.
“Carly ... is everything
okay? I mean, I heard about what happened at Abi’s house yesterday morning. It’s ... God, it’s like the world’s gone crazy.”
He stood in front her. She stopped walking. She searched his handsome face for traces of anything other than genuine concern. His eyes begged her forgiveness. His stance seemed to crave her closeness. She felt the urge to reach out and embrace him. Still, the pain, the sting of betrayal, wouldn’t let her, and she tightly hugged the books to her chest. She couldn’t meet his eyes for long. She shook her head, half in disgust, half as a gesture letting him know everything was not okay between them—not yet—and she wasn’t sure it ever would be again.
“She’s okay,” she said. “She and her mom are staying at the Country Inn. I was going to walk over to see her.”
“All the way across town? It’s freezing!” He hunched his shoulders and slipped hands into the pockets of his letter jacket. “Let me give you a ride.”
“Oh, Ethan.” She groaned and shook her head, stepping around him.
He caught her elbow, lightly but firmly. Despite her earlier plans, she didn’t pull away, and she felt shame that a sexual thrill went through her at the strength of his grip.
“Look, Carly. I know things are still on edge here, obviously. But, I still feel the same way about you. Nothing has changed from my perspective ... except that I’ve made a damn stupid mistake by letting myself get set up by Sadie and her friends, and by running my mouth thinking I was cool. I’ve never felt so bad about anything in my whole life. If this is it—if this is really the end and I lose you—then I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Ethan, I’m going through so much right now, I’m in a swirl. I just don’t know.” Her eyes were misting and that was the last damn thing she wanted so she turned her face away from him. “I still need more time.”
“Okay.” He released her gently. “But at least let me give you a ride up to the Country Inn. I don’t have a chance in hell of winning you back if you get hypothermia and die in a block of ice.” He gave her a weak smile.
She tried hard not to smile back, but his dimples made her warm inside and she just couldn’t say no.
“Come on.”
She went.
The ride across town was quiet between them, but Carly admitted that it felt good to sit next to him, to be with him here in his car again. She could almost pretend like nothing had happened. Still, she found herself searching the interior of his car for evidence of other girls. She didn’t see anything incriminating. She let herself relax. When he pulled into the parking lot of the Country Inn, he looked out his window up at the ski chalet-styled building and then glanced over at Carly.
“Well,” he said. “Here you are.”
Carly gathered her books into her lap.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“How will you get home?”
“Abi’s mom, or I’ll call Dad.”
“Okay.” He looked her over like he might never see her again. The agony in his look killed her. Suddenly she knew the truth. She knew, despite what she’d seen in that picture, despite what Sadie said, that it hadn’t been anything more than a one-time thing. She thought—in that moment—it was even possible that he’d been trapped, as he claimed, just out of Sadie’s spite and desire to hurt her. And he’d been too stunned to react or pull away. She was willing to entertain that notion. Carly softened toward him, and she leaned over and gave him a quick hug.
“Call me if you need a ride,” he said.
“I will.”
“Are we still on for Friday after the game?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
She climbed from the car, waving goodbye. She watched him pull away and then headed into the warm lobby of the Country Inn. It was small but cozy, like an oversized ski cottage living room with television, several couches, a big brick fireplace and a sitting area near some bay windows that overlooked the east side of Carson Lake and the mountains beyond. Carly smiled at the woman behind the counter, and went into the hallway beyond, climbing the stairs to the second floor. Halfway down a carpeted hall that smelled like clean laundry, she knocked on the door to room 213.
When Abigail opened the door her eyes were sleepless, with bruised shadows beneath them, face wan, cheeks sallow, and her dark hair hung down around her face in unbrushed strands that had escaped from a pony tail. She wore dark sweats and a wrinkled T-shirt.
“Abi,” Carly rushed into the hotel room and embraced her friend. Abigail weakly hugged her back. Carly felt her tremble and let her go. They sat on the edge of the nearest queen-sized bed. The open curtains on the far side of the room revealed a sliding glass door to a snow-covered balcony. Abigail took a deep breath and gazed out the sliding glass door. Her eyes reflected devastation. Carly’s heart churned with pain for her friend.
“Oh Care-bear, I’ve done it now.”
“What is it, Abi?”
Carly sat, rapt with fear and fascination as Abigail recounted the horror of the night before last, heaving with emotion by the time she was done telling what had happened.
“And you think that this ... thing that killed your father came from your magick circle?”
“I don’t think, Carly—I know. I saw it. Felt it.”
“Do you really think that old witch can help with this somehow?”
Abigail folded her hands and hung her head to stare at the carpet. From the look in her eyes, her thoughts must have been roaming a dark and faraway place.
“She’s the only one I can think of who might be able to help. I don’t know what else to do.”
Carly thought about the discussion she and her dad had with Karen that morning, how Karen had suggested calling a priest or minister about the haunting at her house. Carly told Abigail about what had happened to her the night before last, about how she felt like she’d been visited by her mother’s ghost, and how it had spoken to her, said that it would ‘protect her.’
“Protect you,” Abi said, distant.
Carly just started at Abigail, at a loss.
“Carly, we need to go to see the old witch.”
Carly paused. Her insides churned at the thought. Mostly because her mother had been seeking some unconventional treatments for her depression from that man at the metaphysical bookstore—there in the same house years ago—right before she’d killed herself. New age mysticism and witchcraft hadn’t done them any good so far. But if Abigail thought the woman could offer them some hope, it was worth a try. If the woman suggested something crazy, Carly would just have to talk Abi out of it. For now, in the wake of Abigail’s loss, in the wake of her pain and guilt, it was best to stand by her no matter what she thought. “If you think it will help.”
“I think it’s the only choice we have. Whatever I brought into this world ... I’ve got to send it back. And I can’t do it alone.”
Carly nodded, skeptical, even in light of her own recent experience. She only hoped that the old witch was really someone who could help, and not some hokey myth that had been built up over the years by a bunch of kids because she lived in a house that looked like a mansion straight out of a horror film. She knew only a little of how her mother had been involved with the man who used to work with the old witch. It was a distant memory, and Dad hadn’t talked to her about it since then. But the vague knowledge that her mother had some dealings at some point with someone who worked with the witch—a man that had disappeared after her mother’s death—was enough to intrigue her. It was enough to agree to go with Abi, not just because she might be able to help her friend, but on the off chance the woman could offer some explanation for the apparition that appeared to her the other night. And why.
* * *
Abigail drove her father’s truck to the witch house on Washington Hill. There was still an old coffee cup in one of the cup holders, change in the ashtray,
and a vague hint of aftershave. These things made Carly uneasy. Mr. Holman was dead and gone, now. But much of him still lingered. How much of him would linger with Abi? How must she be struggling right now with the death of her father versus the man that had abused her? Carly tried not to be obvious as she studied her friend’s face. Abi looked gaunt, as if she hadn’t eaten in a week. The nightmare had already taken a physical toll.
They parked on the slush-muddy street across from the witch house.
The sun was hanging close to the horizon. Darkness gathered in the treed lot with the wicked branches and cryptic walkway. Although the sun had not yet completely fallen, the room at the top of the small corner tower was aglow behind thick curtains. They could see no figures or other signs of life. As Carly stepped out of the car and looked up at the house they’d walked by hundreds of times on their way to school, the prospect of approaching it, much less going into it, seemed dreadful. Everything inside of her was repulsed by the thought.
It’s not safe, said a voice inside her. But it was too late to turn back. A small part of her still said this was their best shot for solving the mystery of things that had been happening to them. To maybe even give her some insight into her mother’s secret life. Never mind what it meant to her if the witch really had known her mother, if they had somehow been involved in something beyond the realm of simple new age healing that urged her to her bitter end.
And since Mom killed herself, whatever the hell they’d done sure didn’t end well.
They traveled the overgrown walkway together. The steps of the old house creaked as they climbed them. A slight animal smell emanated from beneath the porch, as if a wet dog had lain under there for quite some time.
Carly and Abigail paused to look at each other. They’d both been painfully quiet until now. It was time to take a deep breath, to announce their presence.
Abigail reached out to pull open the screen door. It was quiet on its hinges.
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