Rachel had wanted to take me to the movies, but I’d declined. Movie theaters held too many memories. After several other suggestions, ranging from getting frozen lemonade to window-shopping downtown, I’d agreed to a walk around the park. She was convinced the fresh air would do me good.
Walking back now, it appears she was right. I feel better. Good enough to go for a much needed run in the morning. My muscles are beginning to feel stagnant and unused.
Rachel shoves her hands into the pockets of her rolled up cargo shorts and sucks on the corner of her bottom lip. She’s been unusually reserved all evening. I know she wants to say something, but it’s obvious she doesn’t quite know how to go about it. Looking at me speculatively, she asks, “So how’s everything really, Kat?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Fine.”
“You haven’t said much.”
I smile, laughing softly. “You know me. I never say much.”
“Yeah, I know. But, it’s just…you’re quieter than usual.”
“Lost in my own thoughts, I guess.”
Taking a deep breath, she lets it out in a sigh. “Thinking about Rick?”
“No,” I protest, looking at her sharply before relenting. “Well, yeah. But not that much.” I wish, more than anything, that I could tell her. Tell her everything that has been happening. Just unburden myself of all of it.
“You can talk to me, you know.”
I nod, wondering how I could even begin. How do you tell someone, even if it is your best friend, that your hot neighbor has claimed to be a Watcher and that he’s informed you that spirits from another world are attacking you? And that, for some inexplicable reason, you have the power to defeat them, even though you have no idea how? And even though part of you logically knows it is complete nonsense, there is a small part of you that almost believes it, simply because there is no other explanation? Even if I could put it into words, there is no way she will understand. I’ll just sound crazy. And if the situation were reversed, I know I’d feel the same.
“You might think I wouldn’t understand,” she continues, “but I promise you, I would. You can tell me.” She stops walking, looking at me seriously. “Anything.”
I am so tempted. I open my mouth and take a deep breath…but I can’t. Maybe someday, but not now. It is just too hard and too complicated. “Thanks, Rach. I know I can. I think I just need to get it clearer in my own head right now.”
She rubs my arm and nods, smiling softly, and starts walking again. I get the feeling she wants to say more. Finally, several steps later, she does. “I just want you to know…I’m really sorry.”
I look at her in confusion. “Sorry? For what?”
“For your pain. Everything with Rick. The accident.”
“Rach, that had absolutely nothing to do with you.”
“I know. But if I hadn’t been sick, and you hadn’t done those deliveries for me, then none of it would have happened. You wouldn’t have been there to see Rick and that chick, whoever she is. And you wouldn’t have driven off and gotten in that accident…”
“Stop,” I interrupt, grabbing her arm. “You have nothing to apologize for. I would have found out eventually, one way or another. I’m just glad it’s out in the open.”
She looks at me for a moment, tears glistening in her eyes. “I talked to Rick in the hospital. After the accident. And, for what it’s worth, I think he’s a good guy. He didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I nod, unable to say anything.
“And I really don’t think there’s been anyone else since you two got together.”
I shrug, part of me agreeing with her, but not yet ready to make that leap of faith, no matter how much I might be tempted.
“He was pretty upset, you know,” she continues. “Blamed himself. He really does care about you. And I think you really care about him. And you just seem so unhappy. Maybe you should just give it a second chance, you know?”
I’m not sure what to say. Because I honestly don’t know how I feel about anything. So I simply reply, “We’ll just see how it goes. “
I can tell by her expression that she’s not pleased with my answer, but she accepts it.
We start walking again and she pulls a small pink box from her pocket. “Here. This is for you.”
I stop walking, taking the box in surprise. “What is this for?”
“Well, I never really got you anything for your birthday…”
“Yes you did! You got me the seraphinite stone. And then made me look wonderful for Rick’s party…”
“That was nothing,” she says, waving my protests aside. “Anyway, does there have to be an occasion? It’s just a sisterhood present.”
“Wow. Thanks, Rach.” I hug her, then open the box. Inside, a pair of earrings rests on a cushion of white silk. Half-inch long lustrous lavender-blue gemstones, wrapped with delicate silver filigree. “Did you make these?” I ask in awe.
She nods. “It’s blue chalcedony. For protection.”
“Protection? Against what?”
She shrugs. “Anything. I just think you could use a little protection right now. You know, it’s kind of a vulnerable time.”
I close the box and hug her again. “Thanks. You’re the best. And I think you’re probably right.” Way more than you know.
We turn the corner onto my street and Rachel stops, gazing towards the big, empty mansion on the corner. “What is with that house anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Don’t you think it’s kind of creepy? All big and empty? It’s like something from some old horror movie. It freaks me out every time I see it.”
“I don’t know. It’s just a big, old house.” Why is she asking?
“Have you ever been in it?” She turns to me and grins.
My stomach clenches, the calm I’d felt earlier evaporating. “No. It’s somebody else’s property.”
“Why don’t they sell it? Why would they just leave it there for years and years? I mean look at it. It’s got to be falling apart.”
“Well, it probably is.” I’m starting to feel uneasy. “Why do you care anyway?”
“I don’t know. I’ve just always been really curious.” She grabs my hand. “Let’s go check it out.”
My chest clenches. “We can’t. That would be trespassing.”
Rachel’s eyes sparkle, eager for an adventure. “We can just peek in the windows. No law against that, right?”
Actually, I think there probably is, but I refrain from comment.
“Come on,” she urges, pulling me forward. “I just want to see what it looks like in there.”
“Rachel, we can’t,” I say again, trying to resist our forward motion. “We’ll get in trouble.”
“No, we won’t. Nobody’s even around.”
I stop in front of the house, my eyes scanning the street. She is right. There is no movement or sound from any direction. It’s like the area is deserted. Despite the gathering dark, the sun now well behind the mountains, the windows of the neighboring houses remain dark. The distant sounds of traffic fade away, the street becoming eerily quiet. I watch with growing uneasiness as the streetlight flickers, then goes out. An icy chill creeps up my spine, spreading around my neck and down my arms like a ghostly embrace. Slowly, I turn and watch in horror as the street begins elongating, stretching into a dark tunnel, the line of trees receding further and further. I let out a ragged breath, shaking my head in denial. Stepping slowly backwards, I feel the weightlessness creeping towards me.
I reach for Rachel, preparing to grab her hand and run, but she is gone. Gasping, I look around frantically before catching a brief glimpse of her pink t-shirt darting around the corner of the house. I turn and look down the street again, my heart constricting in my chest. A thick, roiling mass of white fog is making its way down the tunnel, slowly obscuring trees and parked cars. Thin tendrils snake their way out from the mass, like skeletal fingers probing the way.
I begin trembli
ng. Lovell. I have to get to Lovell.
But I can’t leave Rachel.
Turning, I dart through the wrought iron gate and run as fast as I can after Rachel. I shout her name, but in the thickening atmosphere it sounds like an exhausted whimper.
Where is she? I sweep around the corner, nearly tripping on the tangle of vines and fallen branches that litter the back yard.
“Rachel!” I scream, praying she will hear me.
“Kat!” Rachel whispers, somewhere to my left. “You won’t believe it! The door is unlocked.”
I look around frantically, the first chill of the approaching fog brushing past my arms. She is standing at the back of the house, beneath the arch of a dark alcove, the door in front of her open. If it weren’t for the brightness of her shirt, she would be invisible in the gloom.
“Rachel.” I run towards her. “We have to go. Now.” A troubling thought nudges at the back of my mind. Something about what Rachel said. But I don’t have time to try and figure it out.
“No. Not yet. Just a quick look around. Then we’ll go. Come on. Nobody’ll even know we’re here.” She holds out her hand, grinning with excitement.
Rising panic spreads through my gut. How can I possibly make her understand? We have to get out of here. Now. Before something terrible happens. A sickening pressure begins to build in my head and I nearly scream in frustration. I glance behind me, eyes widening in terror. The first tendrils of fog are creeping around the corner of the house. A sob escapes my throat.
“Rachel, please. We really need to go.”
But it’s as though she can’t hear me. She turns back to the doorway, leaning forward to peer inside, one foot poised to step over the threshold.
I hear a screech and looking up, spot an enormous black crow circling overhead. It cocks its head, one black and beady eye staring at me, chilling me to the bone.
It acts as Aratus’ eyes.
Hide. We have to hide. It knows I’m here. Grabbing Rachel’s arm, I pull her inside, slamming the door behind me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I tremble in the darkness, my breath coming in short, quick gasps. My feet are rooted to the floor, unable to move any further.
“Kat!” Rachel whispers. “What is the matter with you? And why is it so dark all of a sudden?”
“You don’t understand, ” I say, my voice tense with fright and desperation. “We need to get away from here.”
My eyes are starting to adjust to the darkness and I can just make out Rachel’s face, her brows drawn together in confusion.
“Why? What’s the matter? There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just an old, empty house.”
I wrack my brain, trying to focus my thoughts and think of an excuse. “I…I think there’s a really big storm coming. I don’t think it’s safe to stay here.”
She shrugs. “I noticed it was getting kind of dark and misty.”
I gasp, staring at her in surprise. Rachel can see it. Or at least part of it. The thick fog that I see appears as a misty rain to Rachel. But, if she can see it, what does that mean?
“But if it’s going to rain,” she continues, “we may as well wait out the storm here. No sense in getting soaked.” She rubs her arms, hugging herself tightly. “Man, it’s cold in here.”
It is cold. Eerily cold. The temperature is dropping. I can feel it. I fight a surge of panic.
“I wish we had a flashlight,” Rachel says, creeping forward. “Then we could really explore this place.”
“I don’t think we should move around too much.” I say, desperately trying to think of something, anything, to stop what is coming. “It’s too dark. The floorboards could be full of holes. You could get hurt.” I have to find someplace we can hide, somewhere I can protect her.
“Not likely. There’s enough light coming in from the windows to see a gaping hole in the floor,” she says, pointing to a pair of square windows on the left.
She’s right. There is light at the windows. But it isn’t like any light I’ve seen before. It is a strange, sepulchral glow that seems to emanate from the fog surrounding the house.
I run a hand through my hair, looking around with growing urgency. We are in some kind of small entryway, or mudroom. It is empty, the walls painted a stark white. There is absolutely nowhere to hide or take cover. I look toward the closed door in front of us. Rachel steps forward and tries the handle.
“It’s not locked,” she whispers excitedly, moving the handle back and forth. “But it won’t open.” She grunts, pushing at the door.
Suddenly, the thought that has been niggling at me, buried beneath my rising panic, springs to the surface. The house. The house was unlocked. Why? Why had we gotten in so easily? Shouldn’t it have been locked up, tight as a drum? With dawning horror, it all clicks into place. It’s all part of the plan. The plan to get to me.
“He’ll use whatever means necessary.” Lovell’s words come back to me. “Even someone close to you.”
Rachel.
I turn and look at her, my eyes wide with shock. He is using Rachel. She will be the innocent victim. We’re trapped in here.
And then I know, with absolute certainty, that Lovell had been telling the truth.
I reach for her, determined to face the fog rather than whatever lies in wait inside the walls of the house. But there is a loud scraping noise, and the door finally gives way and Rachel stumbles into the next room. I hurry after her, my only thought getting her away from here. Away from me.
We stand in the middle of a century old kitchen, the cracked and faded floor tiles looking even more bleak and forlorn in the unearthly glow from the windows. An ancient wood stove dominates one wall, it’s black pipe extending up through the ceiling like a scorched arm reaching for air. A heavy wooden worktable sits in the middle of the room, it’s surface obscured by years of dust and debris. Pieces of plaster and mildewed wallpaper lie scattered across the floor, gaping holes in the walls testament to where they had once belonged.
From somewhere out in the fog, I can hear the whispering begin, a steady drone that draws closer and closer. Grabbing Rachel’s arm, I pull her through the kitchen.
“Wait!” she protests. “I want to look around…”
But I stop her mid-sentence, gripping her shoulders and looking at her intently. “Rachel, you have to listen to me.” My head is pounding and I feel like I can’t breathe, but I force myself to concentrate. Despite the cold, I am covered in panic-stricken sweat. “I don’t have time to explain. But this is very serious. You have to get away from here. There’s something…”
“What is that?” Rachel interrupts, turning away from me and breaking my grip. She moves toward the door on the far wall. “Do you hear that? It’s like some kind of humming noise.” She quickens her pace, moving silently forward and reaching out to push open the swinging door, separating the kitchen from the rest of the house.
“Rachel! No!” I shout. But she has already slipped through to the other side, disappearing from view.
“Oh, my God!” I hear her cry.
The familiar weight is bearing down on me, turning my legs to cement. The pressure in my head increases and my vision begins to blur. I look after Rachel, my eyes filling with tears. Every muscle straining, I push through the door after her.
She is standing in a narrow hallway, beside a decrepit staircase. Several spindles are either missing or jutting out at crazy angles from the handrail. She is frozen in place, staring at something near the bottom of the stairs.
“Rachel,” I croak. “Get out. Just go back out the way you came. It’s me he wants.”
But she doesn’t hear me. She is transfixed, held in thrall by the glowing green orb or light floating two feet off the ground, sending out sparks of electrified energy. A deep humming noise surrounds it, like a live wire pulsing with deadly voltage. I edge myself in front of her, staring in shock as the orb hovers and sizzles.
There is a crash in the kitchen followed by an ear-splitting screech.
The crow has gained entrance. I cringe. My heart is pounding so hard it feels as though it will burst from my chest at any moment. I look in desperation for a way out. Several yards to the left, a large doorway opens to what was probably once a formal drawing room. To the right are the remains of the dining room. A massive chandelier hangs at a precarious angle from the ceiling. Straight ahead, a fallen ceiling joist blocks the front door. We can go back through the kitchen, and face the crow, or try to get past the orb. Either way, we can’t stay here. The crow screeches again, and I look back at the drawing room, noting the large front window and built-in corner cupboard. One door hangs loosely. If I can wrench the door free, I can use it to break the glass in the window.
Suddenly, the droning and whispering I have been hearing for so long melds into coherent words. Words that turn my blood to ice.
“Katriona Matheson. I’ve waited…a very…long…time.”
The voice is deep and cold, every word infused with something indefinably evil. It has a horrible rasping quality, like the sound of tin foil being slowly drawn down a jagged knife blade. It scrapes across my skin like icy tentacles, sending every nerve ending into quivering response.
Shaking uncontrollably, I step in front of Rachel. Without taking my eyes off the pulsating orb, I take her hand and try to guide her towards the drawing room. But she is as hard and immovable as a slab of marble. Her skin is ice cold.
“Rachel!” I shout. “Rachel!” I try shaking her, but she doesn’t budge. In desperation, I slap her cheek. My hand stings as though I’ve just struck a block of ice. She is unresponsive. Her skin shows no trace of my hand.
The green light begins growing stronger, the orb rising higher in the air. I watch in horror as it starts to change shape, morphing into something darker and longer, the outline of a cloaked figure beginning to emerge. It is a man, tall and broad-shouldered. Strands of long, white hair hang next to his face. He extends one arm and the chandelier crashes to the floor. I scream, throwing myself against Rachel as shards of glass explode across the room. Pain knifes through me as the glass slices across my back and legs.
Reckoning Page 22
