The Artisans

by Julie Reece

  Behind me, the old steps creak like a dying cow. I glare over my shoulder, expecting the heavy tread of Dane, but it’s not him. Apparently, my tiny friend walks like a gladiator. I never noticed before, and knowing her temper, I decide to say nothing now.

  A closed door looms at the end of the empty hallway. We creep along. Nothing but the sound of anxious breathing and shuffling footsteps says we’re here. As I turn to face my friends, a dark spot appears on the side of Maggie’s head. My eyes widen, and I gulp a breath.

  Spider, spider, spi-der!

  Dane catches my anxious gaze, and I jerk my chin toward Mags. Thankfully, she isn’t watching us. Her flashlight is tracking the walls covered with webs to my right. I wriggle my fingers and Dane nods. Two … three … four …

  Before she can see what’s happening, Dane grabs Maggie, draws her against his chest, and covers her mouth with his palm. My turn. I pull my hand inside my flannel sleeve and brush at the spider in her hair. The little bastard decides to scuttle up her head. My stomach lurches. I don’t want to smush him in her hair, but the arachnid isn’t cooperating.

  Wide-eyed and bucking like a bronco, Maggie wrenches herself against Dane’s hefty arms, and I thank the Lord the boy is as strong as he is. I train my flashlight on her hair and swipe again. The spider falls to the floor, and I start my bug-killing dance on its head. Dane releases Maggie who spins and pummels him in the chest. A string of cursing streams from her lips.

  By this time, we probably have the whole house awake, but I can’t blame anyone. When bugs and girls collide, all bets are off.

  I put my hand on the door handle. “Shhh. Maggie,” I warn. She ignores me, still shouting at Dane. “Maggie!” She faces me as I turn the handle. “I’m sorry about the spider, but let’s get on with this before we’re caught.”

  As I open the door, someone grabs my arm and pulls me into the black. Maggie’s mouth opens in a silent scream. Dane yanks her aside and charges the doorway. His look of determined fury is the last thing I see before the attic door slams shut in his face.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The grip on my arm disappears. My flashlight drops to the ground and rolls away under some furniture. Pounding on the other side of the door begs a response, but my brain’s gone numb.

  Think, damn it.

  I sink to the floor and crawl toward my flashlight. “Cole? Who’s in here?” I ask, unsure I want an answer to whose hand I felt on my skin.

  Dane pummels the door again. “Raven, if you don’t open this door right now, I swear I’ll break it down and kill you.”

  “Hang on.” Flashlight in hand, I whip the beam in every direction. Shadows run before the light, regrouping in odd corners. The space is stuffed with junk, but there’s no one near me. I stand on rubbery legs before bolting for the door. I hear someone breathing but can’t see who. With a stifled cry, I twist the knob. Locked. Peering down, I shine a light on the handle. There’s no key in the lock, no latch or bolt. “It won’t open!” My hand curls into a fist, and I bang on the door. “Get me out of here!”

  “I’m trying,” Dane growls.

  “What happened, Rae? Why did you shut us out?” This from Mags. The panic in her voice matches mine.

  “I didn’t.”

  “She didn’t!” Dane and Mags answer in unison. The door shudders with what I assume is my friends’ renewed attempt to release me.

  With a deep breath, I whirl to face the room. My back presses against the door for support because my muscles betray me and violently shake. I feel at any moment as though I might faint, and I’m no fainter. The beam of my flashlight scours every nook and cranny, but I see no one. I’m not fooled for a minute. Someone pulled me inside this room. Or something. And they wanted me alone. Get me out, get me out, get me out … I whimper. I know damn well this is the part where the guy with a chainsaw pops up from behind an old trunk and slices me in little pieces. Slowly, feet first, working his way up.

  “Little Rae?” Dane’s voice. He must be scared if he’s calling me by my pet name. “I can’t get it open. I need something to jimmy the lock. Maggie will stay with you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “I will?” says Maggie. I hear the word ‘spider’ and low mumbling from Dane in return, then retreating footsteps.

  A long pause follows. I heave a breath to try and slow my climbing hysteria. My pulse is racing so fast I can hardly think. Something scrapes the floor and I jump. A cold sweat breaks out all over my body.

  “Tell me what you see,” comes Maggie’s small, still voice.

  Good Maggie, make me focus. With an inch or more of dust on the floor, I make out my footprints on the wood planks. It smells cold up here, of age, and decay, and mold. The old, headless manikins in the corner are headlining the creep show. They are surrounded by furniture, crates, an ancient bicycle, and plastic Christmas trees.

  “There’s a lot of antiques and boxes and disintegrating crap.” I finally manage.

  “Is Cole with you? Do you know what he wants you to find?”

  No, but excellent point, my friend. Since we have time, I might as well get what I came for. “I’ll look. Will you just keep talking? Your voice is keeping me from losing it.”

  “Sure.” Her tone is a bit more relaxed. “Well, let’s see … Crap! Spider.” A stomp and squeak travels through the walls.

  “Maggie?”

  “Nope, we’re all good here, Rae.” She speaks as though nothing happened, but I hear the tremor in her voice. “Okay, there was a pop quiz in Spanish on Monday that no one passed. Kayla Harbinger broke up with Lance because he’s a man-whore. We all tried to warn her, but you know how that goes …”

  While Maggie gossips, I rise and start my search. I have no idea what I’m looking for, so I snoop through box after box. Old pictures, books, and vinyl records fill the first few containers. In a far corner, I tear the lid off another crate and find a jewelry box. Inside, costume pieces encrusted with rhinestones glitter and shine. I’d love to raid these for my collection. Reluctantly, I set them aside. Another time. Keep looking.

  “Did you hear me?” Maggie asks. “What, in the name of spray cheese and crackers, is going on in there?”

  “What?” I stop exploring for a glimpse of the door.

  An exasperated huff blasts from the other side. “I said did you know that Nathan Campbell won the talent contest?”

  “Sorry, a little distracted, and no I didn’t.” I bend to search the next box.

  “Very nice,” she sighs. “I’m doing my best song and dance routine out here in arachnophobia land—to keep you entertained—I might add. The least you could do is pay attention.”

  “Right,” I call. A stack of leather bound ledgers catches my eye. They appear to be the same brand I saw in Gideon’s office. When I lift a few off the top, I view a smaller brown diary, near the bottom. That’s interesting. I add the diary to my stack.

  “Hey, I might have found something.” As I shift, my butt swipes against the old highchair behind me. The dolls stacked on the tray tumble to the floor with a thud.

  “Maaaaa … maaaaa …”

  I jump as a doll sings out. Ledgers fly from my hands and litter the ground at my feet. The doll’s anemic whining sends a chill up the back of my neck. I shine the flashlight on her sickly porcelain face. Tiny hairs on my body rise as her lifeless black eyes fix on me like an accusation.

  The doll blinks. She smiles and I scream.

  “Raven!” Maggie pounds on the door.

  I open my mouth to answer, but a laugh, low and feminine, floats down from the rafters.

  I know that laugh.

  Without thinking, I point my flashlight straight up. There, body pressed flat against the ceiling, is Desiree. Her arms and legs are splayed in an unnatural position. I don’t know by what magic the woman has defied gravity and Velcroed herself to the wooden beams above, but she looks more spider than those hanging in the webs nearby.

&nbs
p; Her glowing white gown is splattered with crimson stains. Long, platinum hair drips red on the ends, as though she soaked them in blood. Her smile twists her features into something evil and cruel.

  “Raven, are you dead?” Maggie shrieks. “Just answer and tell me if you’re dead!”

  Gideon, I mouth. Where are you? I take a step back and trip. Pain shoots up my hip and bum.

  Another laugh filters down from Desiree. She descends as though hung from a trick wire until her toes touch the wooden floor. My heart beats wildly in my chest. Throat tightens painfully, until it feels as dry as scorched earth. I wonder whose blood she’s wearing, and if I’m next.

  “Why?” I can’t help my question. “What do you want from me?”

  Her pale face darkens. Black eyes flash as though a lightning storm explodes within her head. In the time it takes my heart to beat, she’s on top of my legs. More lizard than woman, she slithers all the way up my body pressing me to the floor. Slow and seductive, she slides forward until we’re face to face. I want to vomit but nothing comes up.

  “Dane!” Maggie’s yelling her head off in the hallway. The door handle jiggles again. Soft thuds land on the doorframe.

  “Gideon!” He’s not here, but even so, his name fills my throat.

  “How delightful,” Desiree says, her voice soft and eager. As I tripped, my flannel shirt fell open revealing the tank top underneath. Her fingers caress the skin on my chest “I wanted my freedom, but this is better. At the last, you cry out for him. My betrayer. I didn’t think him capable of love.” She giggles. The warped sound underlines her insanity. “But his newly discovered devotion makes your death all the sweeter. For you are lovely, are you not? And he loves you with a passion I’ve not seen since … well, mine.”

  Her eyes travel down my face and beyond. She strokes the flesh on my cheek and neck like a lover, making me nauseous. “What is it about you, little one?” Her eyes narrow. “Why does he want you and not me, eh? You’re feebleminded and weak. A word or two whispered in your ear has you dreaming all sorts of nastiness.”

  I ignore the fact that she’s the one sending me nightmares. All I can think is how Gideon was pursued by this witch. My heart cracks open. I didn’t know. “You were his stepmother, married to his father!”

  Her mouth draws into a pout. “An old man. I was young and Gideon was young …”

  My stomach lurches again.

  Something hammers at the door from outside. The walls shake. Dane.

  I struggle under Desiree, claw at her ghostly hands, but it’s no use. She’s a thousand-pound apparition weighing me down. I’m held by an unseen force, helpless, doomed, and without knowing why. “Gideon doesn’t love me,” I say. “I’m his prisoner. We hate each other.”

  A wicked smile. “You’re a poor liar, little one.” Her hand closes around my neck with light pressure. “He stole something from me, now I return the deed with what he holds most dear.” Her glance flits up and down me once more. “Pity.” Her fingers tighten, narrowing my airway. She brings her face nearer and I buck. “Shh. Don’t resist me, it will be easier for you.”

  Blow after blow thunders against the heavy wooden door. My vision grows darker. Blood whooshes in my ears as I fight for breath. How do you fight a spirit? I think of Gideon, the risk I took to help Cole. All for nothing. My eyelids flutter.

  I love you, Gideon, I do. Did he guess? I wish I had told you.

  My vision swims, but I make out a shadow just to the right of Desiree’s head. The pressure on my throat eases. Her grip loosens. A shrill curse echoes in my head. Is it mine?

  The weight on my chest is gone. I cough; roll on my side. My hands clutch at my neck as I struggle to draw breath. Scratching. Scuffling sounds mar the air. Between banging on the door and the heartbeats in my ears, the din is deafening. A crate crashes to the ground.

  “I won’t let you do this!”

  Cole? Thank you. Oh, God, thank you.

  “Why are you protecting her?” Desiree asks. “Killing her wounds Gideon. The Artisans, they did this to you, to all of us!”

  I curl around enough to view Cole. He stands at an angle between Desiree and me. “You want out?” he cries. “We all want out, but I’m not helping with your private revenge.” Desiree’s gaze drops to where I lie on the floor. “If you kill her, you kill our chance for breaking the …” Cole’s sentence stops as he dissolves into a fit of choking. After a moment he recovers, straightening his spine. “The girl’s got nothing to do with Maddox. She’s good. I won’t let you hurt her because Maddox rejected you.”

  Desiree’s glare melts a pathway of hate toward Cole. “Well, well, well. Bitch got to you, too, has she?”

  With a thunderous crash, the door to the room bursts open.

  Desiree vanishes. Cole looks to me where I lay gasping on the floor. His eyes dart to the ledgers scattered at my head and back to me. He nods once and is gone.

  Air burns my throat as I drag in breath after breath. Maggie drops to her knees beside me. Her arms wrap around my shoulders, lift me up. Dane paces the floor. He flies from corner to corner, peering behind boxes and draperies, knocking over the manikins. I want to tell him there’s no one to fight, but my mouth won’t work.

  Once Dane satisfies himself there’s no one here to pummel, he squats next to his girls. “Is she okay?”

  “I think so,” Mags answers. “But what the hell?” She whispers, as though she thinks I can’t hear her.

  “I don’t know.” He flips his dreads behind his back. “Let’s get her downstairs.” He pauses, his face twisting with worry. When Mags raises her face to his, he reaches for her, cups her cheek in his palm. “I love you,” he says. His eyes widen, as if it’s just hitting him he told the girl of his dreams his true feelings. “You two, I mean.”

  Maggie’s head angles, eyebrows bunching.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. If I could scream, I would. They’re lucky I don’t have the strength to knock their stupid heads together.

  “I mean, I love you two guys,” Dane says, and then he tugs us both tightly against him.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  At first I’m shocked when neither Jenny nor Jamis show up in their pj’s demanding an explanation. Then I remember they’re old, half-deaf, and the place is huge. I guess it’s not that surprising after all.

  Maggie and I lie sprawled out on my bed. Three cups of warm chamomile tea and honey soothe my battered throat. I can whisper, but the muscles in my neck hurt like the blue blazes.

  Dane rests in ‘Gideon’s chair,’ his feet propped up on the bed. His head tips back against the headrest. He’s been asleep for the last hour. I guess rummaging through ledgers dating back one hundred years isn’t the most exciting task. More than that, I think the adrenaline he used busting down the attic door wore him out. I’ve never seen him so scared. Not that I can’t relate.

  After relaying what happened with Desiree and Cole upstairs, there’s no question to the reality of my situation, or my sanity. Neither Dane nor Maggie saw the ghosts, but their doubts are gone, and with the bruising on my neck, I’m more convinced than ever.

  Maggie shifts toward me. The mattress gives under her elbow. “All I see here are lists of court cases. Names of what judge presided, the defendants, and rulings and sentences, but nothing about anyone named Desiree or Cole. This is boring as hell, and not really telling us what we need to know. I think you should rest.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Why not? You can’t stay here anymore, sweetie. Dane was right all along, it isn’t safe.”

  “I let Gideon kiss me yesterday, Mags.”

  “Holy crap. That’s a fine thing to keep to yourself.”

  “Yeah. Well, there hasn’t been a lot of time to tell you, what with my being stalked by murderous ghosts and all.”

  “True enough. You’re forgiven. So, details, please. The boy is so very hot. Is he a good kisser? Because I’m betting he is.”

 
; I allow a small smile. “He’s light-your-toes-on-fire good.”

  “Hot damn, I knew it.”

  “He told me Ben can stay here, until …you know. I might be in love with him, Mags.”

  “Well … shit.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t tell him.”

  “Does he, you know, feel the same?”

  “I don’t know. It’s weird between us. We’re not exactly normal couple material, are we?”

  “Guess not, but what’s normal?” Maggie’s wistful tone pulls my attention from the ledger on my lap. I glance at Dane and shrug. “Yeah,” she says with a grin. “I caught that whole ‘I love you’ confession from him upstairs, by the way.”

  My heart leaps into my throat. “What are you saying?”

  She shakes the hair from her face. “That when Dane said he loved us, he meant me.”

  “Halleluiah!” I shout-whisper, then regret it. Dane stirs and Maggie smacks my arm.

  “Shut up. I’m going to help you find what you need, and tomorrow, Dane and I are going to have a big sit-down that ends with some serious making out. I hope.”

  “You really didn’t know?”

  “Nope, but I’m happy.” She glances at the sleeping giant next to us. “Really happy. I think it’s going to be okay—if we don’t kill each other.”

  The heaviness around my heart lightens a bit, and I beam at her. Then another thought hits me, and my smile droops. “Do you … don’t hurt him, Mags.”

  “Really?”

  I flinch at her indignant expression. “Sorry. It’s just, you aren’t exactly—”

  “A one-man woman?”

  “Well, yeah.” I feel like a dog, but her track record for dumping guys out of boredom is one hundred percent. “Sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing, Weathersby.” She readjusts the book lying open on her legs. “You love him, so do I. Always have, I just didn’t realize it until now. The guy’s been through hell with his family, yet he’s always been there for us.” Eyes shining, she nods, as though confirming her own thoughts. “He’s the best, sweetest, smartest, most decent guy I know. Hurting him would be like kicking a kitten off a cliff. He needs someone …” With a huff, her bangs fly up, settling again over her forehead. “I know what he needs. He needs me.”