“Lock your door,” she whispered. “Now.”
Even in the dim interior, she saw Angela go pale. She waited for the click of the lock, then leaned slowly toward the windshield.
“What is it?” Angela asked tightly.
“I saw something.”
“Are you sure? Where?”
Lucy pointed. The car had skidded at a forty-five-degree angle, its headlights slicing off through the trees at the side of the road. As Lucy watched the illuminated pocket of woods, she felt a chill creep up her spine.
“Something’s out there, Angela. It’s watching us … don’t you feel it?”
The girl’s eyes widened slowly. Then she gave a forced laugh. “Come on, Lucy, you don’t really expect me to fall for that, do you?”
But Lucy’s tone was dead serious. “Do you have your phone with you?”
“Well, sure, but—”
“Call 911.”
“Stop it. This isn’t funny, and I don’t believe you anyway.”
“Well, you better believe me, because I’m telling you, there’s something out there. And …”
As Lucy’s sentence trailed off, Angela threw a quick, wary glance out her window. “Look. You’re just shook up because of what happened. But I’m telling you, that thing was moving fast! Whatever it was, it’s long gone by now—”
“Give me your phone,” Lucy said tersely.
Before Angela could stop her, she grabbed the girl’s purse and started rummaging through it, but Angela quickly snatched it back.
“What are you doing?” Angela snapped at her. “That’s mine!”
“Your phone, Angela—your phone!” Lucy’s voice was louder now, thin with rising panic. “Hurry up! Call 911! Do it, Angela, call for help!”
But she could see now that it was finally sinking in, Angela’s eyes the size of saucers, her hands digging through her purse, tossing things out, searching for her cell phone. “This is sick, Lucy, do you hear me? This is sick!”
“It’s coming closer! Make the call!”
Lucy’s heart was racing. She could feel something out there—something furtive—something evil—a sense of danger so intense that every nerve vibrated with terror. It was standing just out of sight, standing just beyond the trees, one with the woods, one with the darkness, and it was waiting to strike … waiting to see what they would do …
“Oh, God,” Lucy whispered, “Oh my God—”
“What is it!” Angela shouted, thoroughly frightened now. She dumped her purse upside down, the contents spilling everywhere, shaking it back and forth, helplessly close to tears. “I can’t find it! I can’t find my phone!”
“It’s too late!” Lucy cried.
Something hit the side of the car. As both girls screamed, the Corvette rocked from the impact, and there was a frantic clawing at Angela’s door.
“Get down!” Lucy yelled, even as she grabbed the girl and forced her to the floor.
“What is it?” Angela shrieked. “I can’t see anything!”
Once more something lunged at the side. As the car swayed and slid, they heard a scratching at the door handle, as though something were trying to wrench it open. Terrified, Angela huddled beneath the dashboard, while Lucy whirled around just in time to see a dark shape dart behind the car. Oh, God, it’s coming to my side! She leaned on the horn, the harsh sound splitting through the night, and then she gunned the motor.
The tires spun in the muck. Without even thinking, Lucy shifted forward, then back, forward, then back—tires whining, horn blasting, Angela screaming—
The car lurched free.
Without warning, it popped from the mud and skidded sideways onto the road. Clutching the wheel for dear life, Lucy floored the accelerator, not stopping, not even slowing down till they’d reached the main highway once again.
“Stop it, Angela,” she said then, quietly. “We’re safe now.”
“Safe?” The girl was practically hysterical. “Safe? How do you know we’re safe? What was that thing?”
Lucy shook her head and said nothing.
“Then how do you know it didn’t follow us? How do you know it’s not sitting up there on the roof right now? Or—or—riding back there in the trunk?”
“Because it’s not.” Lucy’s lips pressed into a tight line. “It’s not. I just know.”
As they paused at a stop sign, she shifted in her seat and took a long, deliberate look through every single window.
How do I know? she wondered. How do I really know?
There were houses around them now, and quiet, tree-lined streets.
And the peaceful silence of neighborhoods settled in for the night.
But Angela was crying.
And Lucy’s heart was still beating wildly in her chest.
How did I know that thing was out there to begin with?
16
It was a miracle they got home before Irene.
The girls pulled into the garage with just minutes to spare, leaving no time to examine the car or discuss what had happened back there on that dark country road. Not that Angela would have wanted to anyway, Lucy figured—which was perfectly fine with her. Trying to rationalize it to herself was hard enough.
She stood in the shower, trembling beneath the hard spray of the water. Still badly shaken from the attack on the car … still badly frightened from her encounter with the stranger behind the tent. Only frightened? Again she berated herself for being so careless, for putting herself in such a dangerous situation … yet at the same time she could still hear that low, whispery voice … feel the gentle urgency of that kiss …
How could cold, stark fear be so alluring at the same time? She was furious with herself for even considering such a notion. What’s wrong with me?
She turned the water as hot as she could stand it, washing her hair, her face, her lips, every inch of her body, as though she might be able to wash away every memory, every horror, every single event that had touched her in the last two days. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and have a peaceful night of dreamless, uninterrupted sleep. So it surprised her when she heard a soft knock on her bedroom door about an hour later and saw Angela peek in.
“We need to talk,” Angela said.
Lucy nodded and motioned her inside. She’d been sitting up, too, unable to relax; now she scooted over so Angela could plop down beside her. The girl’s dark raccoon eyes had been wiped off for the night, her long hair braided down her back. She was wearing a polka-dot flannel nightshirt and looked almost normal.
“I can’t stop thinking about what happened,” Angela blurted out. Her expression seemed strained and almost embarrassed. Her hands twisted nervously in her lap. “What do you think that was? I mean … really?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it, too … and I honestly don’t know.”
“Well, it must have been a wolf,” Angela announced flatly.
“Are there wolves around here?”
“Well … usually farther north, but sometimes they leave their territory, right? I mean, like if they’re hungry, or certain areas get too populated, I’ve heard of animals doing that.”
Lucy wanted to believe her. “It’s possible, I guess.”
“But … it could have been a bear, too, maybe,” Angela mused. “I was thinking maybe it was wounded. When an animal’s wounded, it makes them kind of crazy, and then they attack things they wouldn’t normally attack, right? I mean, haven’t you heard that?”
Lucy nodded. “It makes sense.”
“So if something was hurt … and hungry … and smelled us in the car …” Angela paused, her eyes almost pleading. “It could’ve happened that way. Right?”
“Sure. Sure it could.”
“Great.” Angela let out a huge sigh of relief. “And it’s probably not a good idea to tell anyone else about it, do you think? Just so we don’t cause a panic or something. And especially Irene. Because of her worrying, I mean.”
“Absolutely. Our secret.�
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Another relieved sigh. Angela stretched her willowy limbs, then hopped off the bed.
“Great. Good night, then.”
“Good night.”
Mildly amazed, Lucy watched her go. How did Angela do it, she wondered? How could she make something go away so easily—or not even exist at all—just by refusing to accept it?
But isn’t that what you’re doing?
“No,” Lucy mumbled to herself. “That’s different.”
Is it?
And in that very instant, razor-sharp images began strobing through her mind—images of Byron at the cemetery, Byron at the Festival, Byron trying to talk to her, to warn her about something: “I want to help you … some things take time to believe in … we don’t have a lot of time … something happened … something important … touched you … was passed on to you … you need to understand…” As Lucy pressed her hands to her head, it was as if she could suddenly feel all those crazy puzzle pieces tumbling through her mind … falling into place … beginning to make a frightening kind of sense.
Could it possibly be true? Could there honestly be a connection between Byron’s warnings and the bizarre events that had begun to darken her life?
“… no reason in the world to trust me … have to meet me tomorrow …”
“You’re right,” Lucy mumbled again. “I don’t have the slightest reason to trust you.”
“Did you say something?” Angela asked.
Lucy jumped and stared at the door. Angela was back again, propped in the threshold, smoking a cigarette and frowning at her.
“I didn’t say anything,” Lucy muttered.
Her cousin shrugged. “You’ll need to get my car washed in the morning.”
“I will?”
“Well … yeah. Irene didn’t see it tonight ‘cause someone picked her up and she didn’t go in the garage. But tomorrow she’ll probably be using her car—and if she sees the shape my car’s in, she’s bound to know we were out tonight.”
“But what about the damage? How are you going to explain all those scratches?”
“Vandalism happens in the school parking lot, Lucy.” Angela gazed down at the floor, her expression bland. “It happens all the time. So just take it to the car wash, okay?”
“And who was your servant this time last year?”
Angela rolled her eyes. “Very funny. Just do it?”
“No, I won’t do it. If she sees your dirty car, too bad.” Grumpily, Lucy stacked up her pillows and fell back on top of them. “And you can stop giving me all these excuses about Irene worrying—I heard you two this morning, and I know you’re grounded.”
Angela stared. A flush went over her face, though from anger or embarrassment, Lucy couldn’t tell. She hesitated a moment, as if trying to decide what to do. Then with a sound of exasperation, she tossed her cigarette into the toilet, walked back to the bed, and flounced down on the edge.
“If you knew, then why’d you take me tonight?” she demanded.
“Because I thought it would help things between us. I wanted us to be friends.”
“That’s stupid. How could we ever be friends?”
“My point exactly. Which is why I’m not going to get your car washed tomorrow.”
“If Irene finds out I left tonight, she’ll cancel my credit cards!”
Lucy shrugged. She reached over and flipped off the lamp. Angela flipped it back on.
“Fine!” Angela pouted. “Look, if I tell you something really important and really secret about someone I met tonight, then will you wash my car?”
Lucy stared at her. Really important? Really secret? What could be more important than being stalked, than girls in graves, than hungry predators on lonely roads? What could be more secret than strangers with blindfolds, and painful visions, and disembodied voices in bathrooms?
She’d had enough. She switched off the light.
Angela switched it back on.
“Okay,” Angela sighed. “I’ll be your friend. Are you satisfied?”
“Angela, you don’t know the meaning of the word.”
The girl looked blank. “Friend? Or satisfied?”
“Neither one. Now get out of here and let me go to sleep.”
This time when she reached for the lamp, Angela grabbed her arm. “I’ll tell her you took my car. I’ll tell her you stole my keys, and I didn’t know anything about it. And if you deny it, I’ll tell her you’re lying … that you … that you … sneaked out to meet somebody!”
Lucy gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah, that’s a good one, Angela, I’m sure she’ll believe that. And while you’re at it, be sure to tell her about the wild orgy I had out there behind the tents.”
It slipped out before she even thought.
She saw Angela’s eyes go wide, her face go red, saw her cheeks flinch as she drew in her breath.
“You bitch,” she muttered. “You were spying on me!”
“What? Angela, no—I wasn’t!”
Shocked at her cousin’s reaction, Lucy tried to take her arm, but Angela was already halfway across the room.
“I was joking!” Lucy insisted. “I was joking about myself— I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”
“The hell you don’t,” Angela said furiously. “How long did you stand there watching, anyway? And it wasn’t an orgy!”
“I wasn’t watching anything! I was just making fun of myself!”
She saw Angela turn toward her then, a range of emotions flickering over the girl’s face—indecision, guilt, embarrassment and the horrible realization that she’d just given herself away.
“Well … well … me, too!” she announced, with a forced little laugh. “I was just joking, too. I just wanted to see what you’d say.”
Lucy stared at her as though she’d lost her mind. “Okay,” she offered tentatively. “So we’re even, right?”
“Right.” The laugh again, almost brittle. “Okay, then. Great jokes. Goodnight.”
“Good night.” Lucy paused, then, “Angela?”
“What?”
“How late does Irene sleep on Saturdays?”
“Till around ten. Why?”
“I’ll get your car washed. But I want to leave early, just in case she gets up.”
“Like, how early?
“Like, before nine.”
17
It was no problem slipping out of the house the next morning.
Everyone else was still asleep, and since Angela had already given her the keys and explicit directions to the car wash, Lucy was away in no time at all.
The car wash hadn’t opened yet. Checking her watch, she saw that it was only eight-thirty, so she made a quick run through a fast-food drive-through, then sat in the parking lot, trying to digest both her food and her thoughts.
This is really stupid. Byron probably won’t even be there. And if I do go, and it really is another joke, I’ll never be able to show my face anywhere in Pine Ridge again.
But obviously he’d gotten there before her.
As Lucy drove slowly past the church, she noticed an old Jeep pulled alongside the curb in front, but not a soul to be seen. Strange that Byron would park here in plain sight, she found herself thinking. Especially since he’d made this meeting sound so secret and so mysterious …
Still, this was an abandoned church, and it was in an abandoned area—not like there’s going to be anyone around here watching us or wondering what we’re up to. Besides, seeing his Jeep out here in the open made her feel a whole lot safer.
Lucy parked, then made her way slowly up the crumbled walkway. The church had looked so spooky that night of the storm, and here in the daylight, it didn’t look a whole lot better. Like the original section of the cemetery stretching off behind it, tall weeds had taken over, and shadows lurked beneath the gnarled branches of giant old trees. The steps to the door were rotted. The belltower didn’t look at all sturdy. Several stained-glass windows were broken, and dead ivy crept over the walls.
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It was very still. No breeze this morning, and frostily cold. Lucy’s breath hung in the air as she glanced nervously back at her car. She’d parked close for a quick getaway. She told herself to go inside, then stopped with her hand on the door. You’re doing it again—walking right into an isolated, unknown place—have you completely lost your mind?
When girls in movies did this, they always got killed, she reminded herself. But this wasn’t a movie, this was real life—my life!—and she needed answers, and right now it seemed that Byron was her only chance at getting those answers.
She saw then that one of the large wooden doors was slightly open. That there were muddy footprints on the steps, leading inside.
Very slowly Lucy inched open the door. “Hello? Is anyone here?”
The silence was unnerving. Again she glanced back over her shoulder, but nothing moved within those calm, black shadows.
“Byron?” she called softly. “Hello?”
Lucy strained her ears through the quiet. Had the door creaked then, just ever so slightly? As though someone might be pushing it from the other side?
Instinctively she released it and stepped back. “Hello?”
Why wasn’t he watching for her, why wasn’t he out here waiting to see if she showed up? It had been his idea, after all—if he’d wanted her here so badly, why wasn’t he coming out to meet her?
But it was very cold, she reasoned, and it made perfect sense that he’d probably go inside to wait. And these doors, made of such thick solid oak, surely muffled any sounds from outside. Don’t be so paranoid … Angela knows him … apparently all the girls at school are in love with him … it’s not like he’s some total creep that nobody’s ever heard of …
Still, Lucy suddenly wished she’d told somebody where she was headed this morning.
Just in case.
Okay … here goes.
She took a deep breath and yanked hard at the door. As it moved on rusty hinges, a low groan echoed back through the vast interior of the church.
She smelled dampness and old stone. Cold, stale air, long unbreathed, long undisturbed.
Shivering, Lucy stood there a moment, her eyes trying to adjust to the gloom. As the door swung shut with a dull thud, she moved farther into the vestibule.
It Begins Page 9
