Onyx Webb 9

by Diandra Archer

“No,” Bruce said. “You come with—”

  “I’m going to find her,” Koda repeated. “Quinn, Juniper, Olympia, Graeme, go with my dad. I’ll meet you at the panic room.”

  “What about me?” Bunny yelped. “I’m all alone!”

  Bruce realized they were going to be in trouble if too many people knew where they were going. “Yeah, Bunny, come on—but don’t say anything to anyone else.”

  “Guys, we need to get him out of here now,” the female EMT barked. “I’m going to need help.”

  “I’ll stay,” Graeme said, turning and punching an oncoming ghost in the face and then kicking it hard in the stomach and sending it flying backward.

  “Yeah, go,” Tommy said and turned to Bruce. “Trust me, Bruce, I’ll take care of your dad.”

  1:52 A.M. EST

  ACROSS THE BALLROOM

  SIMON AND HIS two authors, Zaneta and Fernando, were about thirty feet from the others, watching the chaos unfold.

  “You’re the publisher, Simon,” Fernando shrieked. “Do something!”

  “Wake up, Fernando,” Zaneta said. “We survive this, we’re set for life. This is the greatest story ever.”

  That’s when Simon noticed Bruce Mulvaney leading a group of people from the ballroom.

  “Okay, you two. Follow me.”

  1:53 A.M. EST

  MAIN ENTRANCE HALLWAY

  IT HAD TAKEN ROBYN considerably longer than she thought it would getting Gerylyn settled in her room for the night, and she was sure Koda was wondering what happened to her.

  What a day. Starting with her arrival at the mansion in the afternoon to fulfill her role as bartending day laborer, only to end the night having the prince kneel and slide the glass slipper on her foot.

  Having grown up in Orlando, Robyn had been to Disney World so many times she’d lost count. And every time she made it a point to walk through Cinderella’s Castle, wondering what it would be like to live a fairy tale life.

  But she’d never really thought it would happen to her.

  Maybe fairy tales do come true.

  Even before Robyn reached the bottom of the stairs she knew something wasn’t right. She could hear what sounded like fighting and people shouting. Alec Yost was no longer playing. He couldn’t possibly be done already.

  One of the guests appeared at the bottom of the stairway and then started up the stairs toward her. The man looked frightened out of his mind.

  “Don’t go down there!” the man spat as he ran past her up the stairs, his face white as a sheet. A moment later, Robyn felt like the blood had drained from her body.

  At the bottom of the stairs she saw Graeme and a female EMT rolling a gurney with a man on it. It was Declan, and he was covered in blood.

  “Graeme!” Robyn yelled. “What happened?”

  Graeme stopped and looked up the stairs, but before he could answer, several gray figures appeared.

  Ghosts, Robyn thought. But why—? And then she remembered the solstice eclipse and what Gerylyn Stoller had been warning everyone about.

  Two of the ghosts rushed the female EMT, and she dropped to the floor. Graeme managed to get one of the ghosts off her, but the second one sucked the life out of the EMT before Robyn’s eyes. The woman never stood a chance.

  A third ghost came at Graeme from the opposite direction. Robyn started down the stairs to help—but before she could get there, a large man grabbed the ghost and hurled it headfirst into the wall, and it scrabbled away.

  The big man looked up the stairwell at Robyn. “You’re Koda’s girl, right?” the big man asked.

  “Uh, yeah,” Robyn said, taking a second to process the question—it was still strange, thinking of herself as Koda’s girl.

  “I’m Tommy. We need your help getting Declan to the ambulance.”

  Graeme scrambled to his feet and held his hand out to Tommy. “Thanks, mate.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re not out of here yet,” Tommy said, shaking Graeme’s hand as Robyn hurried down the stairs to the bottom of the landing.

  “What can I do?” Robyn asked.

  “You think you can help us get Declan to the ambulance?” Graeme asked.

  Robyn nodded.

  “Good,” Tommy said. “You two push the gurney, and I’ll run interference.”

  “What happened?” Robyn asked as she grabbed the front of the gurney and looked down at Declan’s frail frame—shocked at how pale he was.

  “Some bastard stabbed him,” Tommy said.

  “Stabbed? Who would want to—?”

  “The Southern Gentleman,” Graeme said.

  1:54 A.M. EST

  HALLWAY LEADING TO THE PANIC ROOM

  SIMON, ZANETA, AND FERNANDO hurried across the ballroom and caught up to the group being led by Bruce Mulvaney and then silently fell in behind them.

  “Where’s he taking us?” Fernando asked.

  Simon had no idea. Wherever it was, it had to be better than staying in the ballroom where the gray spirits were attacking most of the others. “Just keep moving,” Simon whispered.

  A second later, Simon saw a ghost appear from a doorway on their left and went straight for Zaneta, who was at the end of the line.

  Simon looked back and saw the ghost begin sucking the life from his author. Well, there goes about a million bucks, Simon thought as he watched the ghost drop Zaneta’s limp body to the hardwood floor.

  Then Simon saw another ghost appear in the doorway and begin walking up the hallway toward them—toward him since he was the last person in the single-file conga-line working its way down the hallway.

  Simon hated to do it. Fernando was a friend. Well, not a friend, really, but a colleague. But what choice did he have?

  Simon put his foot out and tripped Fernando, sending him sprawling on the ground—then he quickly stepped over him.

  It worked.

  The ghost that had its sights on Simon a second earlier turned his attention to Fernando.

  Bruce slowed to a stop and opened the door to his study and then led everyone inside. Then he walked to the closet and began moving hangers until he found the exact hanger he was looking for. And pulled on it.

  Everyone watched as the back wall of the closet swung open like an enormous door.

  “Very nice, Bruce,” Bunny Whitlock said. “The GAFFCO 200. I’m impressed.”

  The safe room was a GAFFCO 300, Bruce knew—but there was no time to get in a pissing match with Bunny Whitlock of all people—someone he generally detested. Why he’d allowed himself to get talked into letting Bunny come with them was a mystery. Bruce made a mental note to hit the woman up for a much bigger donation to the foundation—assuming they managed to live through the night.

  “Okay, everyone in,” Bruce said, noting exactly who he was letting in the room and doing a head count as they entered.

  1.Quinn Cole. Quinn was Koda’s friend who’d been living in the house for over a month now.

  2.Quinn’s friend, the girl in the blue prom dress—the one who played the piano when Koda danced with Robyn—whose name he did not know.

  3.Publisher Simon Prentice. When did he show up?

  4.Bunny Whitlock. Jesus.

  5.Olympia Fudge, the TV show host.

  6.Noah Ashley, who Bruce was surprised to see at the event—apparently connected to Simon Prentice somehow.

  7.Plus himself.

  That made seven—plus the ones still coming, including:

  8.Koda…

  9.Robyn…

  10.Graeme…

  Would the man known as “Uncle Tommy” be coming, too? If so, that would make eleven.

  Six was ideal. Eight people in the safe room was pushing the limit. But eleven?

  “We lost Alec,” Noah said suddenly. “I thought he was with us. I’ve got to go back for him.”

  “We don’t have room,” Bruce said.

  Noah glanced around the inside of the panic room. “It looks big enough to me,” Noah said. “I’m going.”

  �
�I can’t promise how long I can keep the door unlocked,” Bruce said, but he was talking to himself. Noah was already gone.

  If Noah came back with Alec Yost, that would make twelve.

  When it came to safety and protection, Bruce had spared no expense. Smart locks. Fingerprint-sensitive keypads. Motion-activated proximity sensors. Wireless security cameras. The Mulvaney safe room had it all. After all, what good was having $20 billion if you weren’t alive to spend it?

  The only thing they had resisted was the installation of a large, underground bunker, opting instead for the smaller, hidden panic room—accessible through doors disguised as closets—one entrance in Declan’s study and a second in Bruce’s.

  The walls inside the room were made of sixteen-inch-thick bullet-and-bomb-proof metal with the entry door fitted with electromagnetic locks. A door in the floor of the room provided access to a supply of food and water large enough to feed eight people for thirty days in case of a prolonged disaster. There were also eight gas masks in case of a gas or chemical attack—or a fire with smoke that might get in.

  Eight.

  Then Bruce remembered Krissy and felt the air go out of him.

  A moment later, Bunny Whitlock tapped Bruce on the shoulder. “Do you happen to have any club soda in here?”

  “Club soda?”

  “Yes,” Bunny said. “I seem to have gotten a few drops of blood on my fur.”

  1:55 A.M. EST

  HALLWAY LEADING TO THE BALLROOM

  STORMY RETURNED UPSTAIRS angry and confused. He was convinced he had the Southern Gentleman trapped in the old root cellar basement of the mansion—but when he got down there, the man had vanished into thin air. It wasn’t possible.

  There was nothing anyone could have done to prevent an attack like this. Even if he’d had used airport-style metal detectors or wands—which was out of the question, based on the stature of the attendees—there was nothing to stop someone from picking a knife up off the table. It was a dinner, after all. Each guest had a set of silverware.

  Including a knife.

  No, the stabbing was not his fault. But letting the bastard get away? Yes, that was entirely on him. With any luck, the ambulance had arrived quickly, and Declan was on his way to the hospital without delay.

  Stormy turned the corner and stopped dead in his tracks, unable to believe his eyes. The ballroom floor was littered with dead bodies.

  Stormy spotted a man standing in the center of the ballroom with his back to him. “Hey, what happened here?”

  The man turned around and looked at Stormy as if in a daze. “Where am I?” the man asked.

  It only took a second for Stormy to know the man was not one of the guests—and why he was disoriented. Stormy had also felt lost and confused when he’d first returned to the living plane.

  The man was a ghost.

  From the looks of the number of dead bodies on the floor, the man hadn’t come alone.

  “I didn’t mean to do it,” the ghost said, looking down at the gray lifeless body of a woman lying on the floor at his feet. “I just followed the others and did what they did. I’m sorry.”

  “Where are the rest?” Stormy asked.

  The man didn’t answer.

  “How many of you were there?” Stormy asked. Again, the ghost didn’t answer.

  Stormy felt a tap on his shoulder and spun around to see Koda standing there.

  “Sorry,” Koda said. “Did you find him? The Southern Gentleman?”

  Stormy shook his head.

  “Okay, we’ll worry about that later,” Koda said. “Have you seen Robyn?”

  “No,” Stormy said. “Where is everyone else?”

  “My dad took a group to the safe room,” Koda said. “Besides that—?”

  “There’s a panel of closed-circuit TVs in the safe room,” Stormy said. “Maybe we can find Robyn that way.”

  Koda nodded and motioned at the ghost standing in the middle of the room. “What’s his story?”

  “Guilt,” Stormy said. “He did what we all do to stay here—ghosts, I mean. The only difference between him and the others is he feels guilty about it.”

  Koda and Stormy hadn’t gone more than a hundred feet when Koda saw the woman he’d been searching for his entire life.

  It was his mother.

  “Get to the panic room, Stormy,” Koda said. “I’ll meet you there in a minute.”

  1:56 A.M. EST

  THE LAWN BEHIND THE MANSION

  THE GOVERNOR PULLED the collar of his coat tighter around his neck and cursed himself for not bringing a hat and gloves. But the weather in Atlanta was reasonably warm, at least compared to what was happening there in Charleston.

  “How much longer?” the governor asked, strapped into the back seat next to the Georgia State Patrol officer assigned to accompany him for the night. “I thought we were ready to go.”

  “We were—ten minutes ago,” the pilot said over his shoulder. “But the temperature has dropped, and unless I’m 100 percent sure the rotors aren’t frozen…”

  “Maybe it’s best if we go back inside, governor,” the patrol officer said.

  “Screw it,” the governor said. “I’m going back inside and having another drink. Come get me when we’re cleared to fly.”

  1:57 A.M. EST

  IN THE MANSION KITCHEN

  BEATRICE AND CHLOE were sitting in the kitchen, enjoying the last remaining bottle of Krissy Vineyards Meritage and talking shop, when a woman appeared in the doorway directly behind Beatrice.

  It took only a second for Chloe to determine there was something not quite right about her—starting with the dress she was wearing. It was pale gray and looked old, not old as in tattered and torn, but the style itself—like something from the puritan ages.

  On its own, the dress wouldn’t have been enough to cause Chloe concern. But the dress wasn’t the only thing that was gray. Her hair was gray. Her face was gray. Her arms and legs were gray.

  And Chloe realized she could see right through the woman.

  Transparent like a ghost.

  Chloe stood and took a step back, pointing at the doorway. “Uh, Beatrice, I think we have a problem.”

  Beatrice swiveled her hips in her chair and shrieked in horror.

  The ghost took a step forward.

  “Run!” Chloe screamed.

  The patrol officer was completely caught off guard as Chloe and Beatrice came rushing in his direction and then continued past him and the governor trailing behind.

  “Hey—”

  A moment later the officer saw what the two women were running from, but he was too stunned to react. The ghost woman was suddenly there, pulling him toward her and placing her mouth over his.

  The governor watched helplessly as the color drained from the officer’s body and seemed to literally transfer into the ghost. A moment later, the woman let the officer drop to the floor at the governor’s feet.

  The governor shrieked and took off running.

  1:58 A.M. EST

  LAWN BEHIND THE MANSION

  CHLOE AND BEATRICE pushed through the rear door of the mansion, finding themselves shivering in the bitter cold wind on the rear deck.

  “What in the hell was that?” Beatrice asked.

  “I don’t know, but we can’t hide out here very long,” Chloe said. “We’re going to need to find somewhere—”

  “I know where we can hide,” Beatrice said, pointing at her catering truck.

  “Will it be warm enough?”

  “Have you got a better idea?” Beatrice said. “We can always go back inside with the bride of Frankenstein.”

  Chloe nodded, and they started down the ice-covered stairs of the deck to the lawn—and then they heard a man screaming from somewhere in the darkness. The screams were coming from the direction of the governor’s helicopter. Then they saw a man running toward them—with three ghosts chasing close behind.

  1:59 A.M. EST

  INSIDE THE PANIC ROOM

&nbs
p; STORMY ARRIVED AT the panic room and was met by Bruce at the door. “Did you see Koda?”

  “Yes,” Stormy said, pushing past him and sliding behind the chair at the CCTV console.

  “Well? Where is he?” Bruce asked. “He should be—”

  “He’s still searching for Robyn,” Stormy said. “He said to tell you he’d be here as soon as he found her.”

  Bruce shook his head.

  Stormy flipped a switch and the panel of twelve screens came to life, and everyone gathered around to watch the monitors.

  It seemed there were ghosts everywhere, roaming the hallways, killing people at random—one on one and in packs, swarming over their prey until the person was overwhelmed and literally had the life sucked from them.

  “Wait,” Bruce said, taking a step forward and pointing at one of the screens. “Where is that? Outside?”

  Quinn glanced at Juniper, who bit her lip and looked away as three ghosts caught up to a woman who was running across the mansion’s back lawn, trying to get away.

  “Who is that?” Olympia asked.

  “My God, it’s Chloe,” Bruce said quietly.

  Bruce staggered back a few steps and placed his hand against the wall, doing his best to steady himself.

  “Are you talking about the wine woman?” Bunny Whitlock asked from a chair on the opposite side of the panic room. “And I was planning to call her in the morning and order several cases.”

  “I swear, Bunny, if you say another word I’m going to come over there and lay you out,” Bruce said.

  Bunny went quiet.

  “Oh, no,” Quinn said, his attention focused on another screen with a man in a heavy coat being followed by several ghosts. Quinn looked at Juniper. “It’s the governor. If he dies, Wyatt doesn’t have a chance in hell. I’ve got to go help him.”

  Quinn started for the door of the panic room, but Juniper stepped in front of him. “No, I’ll go,” Juniper said. “I’ve got nothing to lose.”