Whispering Graves (Banshee Book 2)

by Sara Clancy

  “The flame at the end,” he snapped with annoyance. “And the heat is a pretty big tip off.”

  Her eyebrows nearly rose up to her hairline before a renewed energy lit up her face. Snatching up his wrist in an iron grip, she lifted his arm to trail the light from his phone to the hole. Even when she added her own light, there wasn’t much extra detail to be seen.

  The sudden realization made his stomach drop. “You don’t see a light, do you?”

  “No. Which means that there is something paranormal down there,” she said with far more joy than he believed the situation warranted. “I knew I was right.”

  “Or,” he said slowly, “I’m insane. Seriously, you never asked if I’ve had a cat-scan.”

  Benton knew he was in trouble when his protests couldn’t even distract her long enough to give him an annoyed look. He struggled to keep ahold of her as she surged forward. Despite his efforts, she easily squirmed from his hands and pushed herself onto all fours. Benton blindly swiped his hand along her side, trying to latch onto the waistband of her jeans. Still, she crawled hesitantly forward, studying the tunnel with a renewed fascination.

  “I don’t think it’s that deep,” she mumbled softly to herself. “The earth is too soft here for it to hold up that long. Or would that make it easier? Why don’t I know more about tunnels?”

  “Nicole?”

  She acknowledged him with a 'hmm,' but didn’t pull her eyes away from her new curiosity.

  “Can we go now? Please,” he said with emphasis on the last word, ensuring that she heard it, hoping that she couldn’t let the polite gesture pass.

  It worked to some extent. She did turn to look at him but continued to twist her long hair over and over. Somehow, that actually kept it back off her face.

  “We have to see what’s at the end.”

  “We really don’t,” he retorted with barely controlled panic. “Or we could at least hold off until we plan this properly.”

  “It’s crawling down a hole.”

  “And what if it caves in?” he countered.

  But reasoning didn’t usually win out against a determined Nicole Rider.

  “It won’t,” she cut him off before he could respond. “What if the answer for how to get rid of the horseman is down there and someone dies because we didn’t go looking for it?”

  “People die. It’s kind of what we do,” he said gently.

  “Okay, well, you stay here and make a list of all the people you’re willing to let get slaughtered, and I’ll go.”

  “That’s not fair,” Benton snapped.

  “I can’t just walk away, Benton. We have to try.”

  “I have tried! For ten frickin’ years I’ve tried! It never changes anything.”

  Nicole didn’t immediately raise her voice to meet his, and he instantly resented her for it. Instead, she reached out, and covered his hand in her own.

  “That’s when you were alone,” she said sweetly, her eyes somehow beseeching and encouraging at the same time. “You’re not alone anymore.”

  Desperate for something, anything, to break through her denial, he went for a low blow. “And yet Victor’s still in a coffin.”

  He cursed the light coming from the tunnel. Without it, he might have been able to avoid seeing the pain that crossed her face. But the orange glow danced across her face, clearly illuminating every ounce of anguish the words had caused. He tried to hold her eyes, but it was a losing fight. He ducked his head and lowered his eyes to the floor, the motion just weakening his argument.

  “We didn’t save Vic. But we did save all the people it would have killed after him. And that means something, Benton,” she said with certainty. Her fingers squeezed his palm, the gentle reassurance making him hate himself just a little more. “I’ll be quick. I promise, I’ll be right back. You can stay here.”

  “You know I can’t do that,” he mumbled as he took his place on the other side of the tunnel. Finally meeting her eyes again, he jabbed a finger towards her. “When this goes bad, and I’m no record for saying that it will, I don’t want to hear any positivity crap. Instead, you’re going to tell me horrible, embarrassing, negative things about yourself in penance.”

  Nicole just shrugged that she was okay with that and began crawling into the tunnel. Benton wasn’t quite sure what to do with his mobile phone. After watching her feet slip out of sight, he tucked the phone between his thumb and index finger, and shuffled in behind her. The soft earth bowed under his palms and turned to mush under his knees as he crept deeper into the tunnel. Roots snatched at his hair and jacket as he continued on. Before him, Nicole’s body cut off the flickering light as she moved, leaving him with only his phone for guidance. The heat encompassed him, creating sweat beads on his skin before soaking into his shirt. The temperature climbed, the air grew thick and humid, the sensations worsening as they continued at an excruciatingly slow pace until he could barely choke down a breath of the steaming smog. With a high squeal, Nicole jerked down. The heel of her foot crashing against the top of the tunnel, dislodging clumps of earth before she disappeared from his sight completely. The now open gap blinded him with a sudden burst of light and he cringed back, shielding his eyes as they burned.

  “Nicole?” he gasped with a hint of panic.

  “I’m okay,” she replied quickly. “I didn’t see the tunnel stop short. Wait a second and I’ll help you out.”

  Benton squinted and blinked, his eyes already adjusting to the brilliance. Her shadow dipped back into view, eclipsing the inferno slightly and sparing his eyes from the burn. She trained her phone back to highlight him, but the soft glow was actually pleasant after the precious glare. She reached for him. He waved her off but she didn’t take the hint.

  “It’s okay, I can see.”

  Before she slipped out of sight once again, he caught a glimpse of a frown and a muttered, “That’s cheating.”

  Although the opening was only about a foot off the floor, there wasn’t enough room for him to actually turn around, so entering the room with any kind of dignity was impossible. He dropped onto his forearms and pulled his legs out awkwardly behind him. The heated mud seared his skin despite the protection of his jacket sleeves. The fire ravaged air blistered against his eyes and made them water. Shielding his eyes, he felt Nicole’s hand tracing along his arm and drifting over his fingers.

  “Do you mind if I borrow your phone? You don’t need it and the light on mine is horrible.”

  He nodded and let her take the device from his hand. Nicole's body heat naturally ran on the warmer side. It was both startling and disturbing to find that her touch felt like ice compared to the heat radiating within the room. Seeing things while awake was a new development, and he was still grappling to find a way to deal with it properly. He wasn’t prepared for all of his senses to combine in promoting a delusion like this. It was hard to believe that it was just a trick of his mind when everything was telling him that it was real.

  He opened his eyes, squinting into the light, and instantly threw himself back. The hot mud of the wall burned him as he stared at the blazing inferno before him. Fire spewed from the floor, creating thin sheets that towered over him. The plumes of fire didn’t crackle or sputter. Their thin trails tracked patterns that filled the huge room in a blistering intensity of light.

  “Benton?”

  “You don’t see that?” he screamed as he shuffled back to the hole, seeking some kind of refuge from the climbing heat.

  Nicole looked around her, one phone in each hand, waving them about like she was trying to land a jumbo jet. She ducked and weaved, searching every corner, obviously straining to catch sight of what he was talking about.

  “There seems to be a big room, deeper than I would have thought, but it looks pretty much the same as the other,” she replied calmly. “Oh, wait. I think there’s something carved into the floor.” He lowered his hand as she made an annoyed noise. “There isn’t enough to make out the pattern.”

  She
began to edge towards the flames and he forced himself back up to his feet.

  “We need to go,” he gasped as he surged forward to pull her back.

  Losing his nerve at the last moment, he pressed back against the wall. His eyes had adjusted and, now that he could look into the eyes, he couldn’t look away.

  “Not again,” she sighed.

  He turned just in time to see her stepping off from the wall, striding towards the flames with renewed purpose. This time, when he lunged for her, he didn’t pull back. But he wasn’t fast enough. Without a moment of hesitation, Nicole took the final step, disappeared into the erupting pit, her hand vanishing before he could grasp it.

  Without her hand to hold onto, Benton edged back as far as the wall would allow, his eyes constantly searching the flames. They were too thick for him to even make out the silhouette of her shadow play against the burning wall. The flames released only a low hiss, but his voice cracked as he called for her. When her reply wasn’t instant, his panic drove him to desperation. He took a step forward, felt the flame press against him, and quickly retreated once more.

  “Nicole!”

  “I’m right in front of you,” her disembodied voice replied. “I thought you said you could see.”

  “You’re in the flames,” he snapped.

  “Really?”

  She must have caught sight of the glare he sent her because her next words weren’t nearly as excited.

  “You really can’t see me? It’s okay, it’s not real. It doesn’t hurt.”

  The sincerity in her voice couldn’t compete with the flames that rose as silent pillars reaching the ceiling, or the way the heat burned his eyes and blistered his lungs with every breath. Her hand emerged from the hellish blaze and she coaxed him to take it. Pushing deeper into the agonizing heat of the wall, he shook his head rapidly.

  “Okay,” she said softly. “Stay right there. I’ll take some photographs of this pattern and we’ll go.”

  “Nicole.”

  “I’m okay,” she replied instantly. “Just hang tight.”

  Balling his fists, he stood as much against the wall as his skin could stand. He bit the inside of his cheeks and tried to endure. The flames never weakened and his head was spinning as the heat continued to consume him. His mouth became a dry pit. His heart pounded until he felt each beat hammering against his spine.

  “Nicole!” he croaked as his lips began to crack.

  “Almost done,” she called back, her tone matching his haste but lacking his need.

  An iron grip suddenly crushed into his stomach, creating an icy hold around his intestines and twisting him up until he released an anguished cry.

  “We need to go,” he nearly begged through his pain as the stench of rot filled the space. “Now!”

  She came crashing through the flames, all reassuring smiles and the wave of a phone. She hadn’t fully left the flames behind before a shadow blackened the fire just beyond her shoulder. A split second later, the horseman rose up behind her, the spinal whip thrashing as it narrowed the distance between them. He bellowed as he darted forward. Seeing his expression, she whirled around, trying to spot what he was looking at. But she couldn’t see the figure charging towards her. It grabbed her shoulder. Wrenched her back. Her feet kicked up as she was yanked once more into the inferno. Benton latched on to her wrist but couldn’t stand against the pull. His feet sunk into the mud as he was towed towards the flames.

  Agony rushed through him as the flames licked across Benton's skin and welled against his palm. He could feel the blisters forming as he hurled himself back. His back slammed against the wall and his knees buckled in. The scent of burning flesh polluted his nostrils as he writhed, gripping his own wrist until the bone felt like it was about to break. The pain was nothing compared to the sensation of his flesh blistering.

  The horrific sound of the horseman’s voice cut through all of the pain raging within his body. The ghastly, disembodied voice ripped and curled around the first syllables of Nicole’s name.

  Benton screamed.

  The walls shook as his banshee wail rose to a deafening pitch. The fires flamed and shot higher until they washed over the ceiling like a raging flood. An ear-splitting shrill, wild as flooding rapids, cracking like thunder, the sound drowned out everything else within existence.

  Nicole rushed from the flaming pit. She balled her hands into his jacket and yanked him to his feet. The sharp yank shook him from his stunned stupor and the scream died off into a sharp whine. The flames were still blinding as they scrambled back towards the tunnel. For once, Nicole didn’t argue when he shoved her before him. He felt every grain of earth as it pressed against the rising boils of his hand. The pain almost brought him down each time he put pressure on it, but fear alone kept him moving, twisting deeper into the consuming darkness. Every inch, every second, he waited to feel the horseman’s hand around his ankle.

  The shifting light of Nicole’s phone scurried out of sight. After the bonfire, his eyes refused to adjust and he was forced to carry on in the impenetrable darkness. He only stopped when Nicole grabbed his arm with both hands, her insistent tugs letting him know that it was time to stand. Grasping each other tight, they thundered up the trembling staircase. Loose dirt drifted down from the mouth of the trapdoor as chunks of wet dirt dropped from the walls. Benton could hear their feet slam against the steps, could feel the wood bend under their weight, but the wood itself didn’t make a sound. It’s still here, a voice in the back of his mind whispered.

  He focused on the rectangle of sunlight above them, the patch of salvation they were racing towards. The gentle warmth of the sun welcomed him as the stairs gave way to grassy earth. Fresh air drew deep into his lungs and he found himself reeling with the sensation. Even as his eyes adjusted to the softer light, details still abandoned him. The pain of his burn was no longer contained to only his hand. He could feel his flesh continuing to cook, the burn growing deeper, spreading wider. Sparks of agony flushed along his nerves and veins, charring his bones as it claimed his entire arm. With a broken cry, his legs buckled in and he slumped onto the earth.

  Nicole gasped his name breathlessly as she knelt down beside him. He ground his teeth, but he couldn’t keep the pain from escaping him in a long string of whimpered sobs. Blinking and shaking, with his vision steadily returning, he let go of her and dragged his throbbing hand into his line of sight. The skin of his hand was ripped raw and molten. Thin trails of puss trickled down his fingers where his skin couldn’t pull to the lengths the forming blisters demanded. The seeping liquid carved through the layers of grim that covered his broken skin. Nicole’s hand was gentle as it wrapped around his wrist, but even that pressure was enough to make him cry out.

  “You need to get up,” Nicole struggled to keep her panic out of her voice.

  He tried, but his legs were too weak to hold his weight and he crumbled in on himself, pressing his forehead against the slick grass that layered the ground. Nicole kept hold of his wrist, keeping him from cradling the smoldering limb against his chest.

  “Benton,” Nicole said. He could barely hear her over his barely suppressed sobs. “We need to get you to a hospital. Your hand could become infected.”

  Benton nodded, smearing his head against the soil. He resisted the urge to curl tighter when she released his wrist. Feeling clammy and weak, he trembled as she passed behind him and looped his good arm over her shoulders. He wasn’t a big guy, more lanky than muscled, but it was still a struggle for Nicole to lift his dead weight. His feeble attempts to help made it possible for him to get his feet back under himself. The tips of his sneakers dug grooves through the soft dirt and twisted up in the roots of the grass as he failed to take a proper step. He cradled his hand, palm up to his chest. Each time he lurched a step, his hand struck his chest. The contact sent a fresh burst of blinding pain through him and left a smear of mud and puss across his stained shirt.

  The sun-warmed metal of the jeep burned him and thrille
d him as Nicole propped him up against it. Barely able to keep his eyes open through the constant surges of pain, it was hard to keep track of everything that was going on around him. It was hard to even keep his head up. As much as he could, he trailed his eyes over the grasslands, searching for any sign of the horseman. Beside him, Nicole began to search through her pockets, muttering a long string of whispered swears as she tried to free her keys from her jeans.

  Lost within a fog of panic and fear, neither of them had noticed the car pulled up next to Nicole’s jeep. Not until Nicole victoriously pulled the keys out of her pocket. She froze, keys still held high, the slips of metal catching the light. In the same moment, Benton’s mind cleared just enough that he was able to attach meaning to what he was seeing; a police cruiser. His stomach plummeted as a figure lunged from the basement door, a sharp bellow of ‘freeze’ announcing its arrival.

  Shaking with the beginning tendrils of shock, Benton could only stare as Constable Rider moved closer to both of them, the sunlight glistening off of the smooth barrel of her gun. There wasn’t enough within him to fully understand the emotions that played across the woman’s face, or the greater meanings attached to them, the consequences. He slumped heavily against the side of the car as a pained cry rattled his teeth. The fire was spreading. It never appeared on his skin, but he could feel the blisters climbing up the length of his arm.

  “Nicole?”

  “Mom, I will explain everything,” Nicole said in a sudden rush of words, “but we need to get Benton to the hospital.”

  “There are bodies down there,” Constable Rider snapped. Her voice didn’t carry any of the uncertainty that lurked within her eyes.

  “He’s really hurt,” Nicole pleaded.

  “What are you even doing here?” she stammered and hesitated before she was able to voice, “What was making that scream?”

  Nicole’s hands trembled as she tried to unlock the passenger side door. The sharp edge of the key scraped across the metal of the door, producing a squeak that was brutal to Benton’s ears.