“Can I borrow some clean clothes? After a bath? It seems safer,” Anna said. “You first, of course, but…please?”
“Yeah. Absolutely.”
We took turns bathing. I stayed alert, waiting for Mary to stare back at me through the water, but we were alone. Had we unleashed the devil upon Solomon’s Folly?
“I have to call Cody,” I said. “I know it’s late, but in case Mary’s out. She should know.”
“Yeah, you do. I was just thinking the same thing,” Anna replied.
I finished my bath. The warm water on my battered body felt wonderful. Well, it felt wonderful everywhere that wasn’t my arms, my hand, my shoulders, or my sides. Mary hadn’t gotten my gut too badly, but there were scrapes and scratches there. Less than a week in and I looked like I’d been maimed by a blender. I was the scraggly neighborhood cat that got into too many fights.
“Hey, so, I don’t know how to bring this up, so I’m just going to come out with it,” Anna said, peering at the wall, her eyebrows low over her eyes, her mouth tight. “I’m not sure I can make the Jess friendship work. I know she apologized, but each time she reveals something she knew, each time something bad happens with Mary, I can’t deal with it. She threw us into a seriously dangerous situation. I’m terrified all the time—for me, for you. If we’re doing stuff to help you, I’ll be there. I don’t want to lose you as a friend, but I need to stay away from Jess awhile.”
Anna had the right to feel angry and scared. I wasn’t going to try to talk her out of it. Not again, anyway. Just like Kitty’s situation with Bronx—the stuff I’d found important a week ago no longer seemed like such a big deal. Right then, getting out of the bathtub without another wound took most of my concentration.
I wrapped a towel around my sore body and drained the tub so Anna could take her turn. While the water ran, I called Cody, but she didn’t pick up the phone. I left a voice mail and warned her about the church and Mary. For Cody’s sake, for the sake of my conscience, I had to hope Bloody Mary was back behind the glass.
Anna slept in my bed with me. Or, well, she stayed in my bed with me. Sleep didn’t come easily for either of us. I looked at the clock at least once every hour. I felt Anna moving next to me, sometimes hugging one of my pillows to her chest, sometimes rolling close to me. Human contact was one of the few things that gave us comfort. I had to adjust her arm once or twice because it grazed the gashes in my side.
Mom’s Sunday schedule was kinder than the rest of the week—she only had the day shift at McReady’s, so she’d be gone from eleven until six. Mom chattered through our pancake breakfast, only commenting three or four times on how tired and unresponsive Anna and I were. Perkiness was impossible.
“All right, well, I’m off. Don’t do anything too crazy without me. And Shauna, make sure you take out the trash today. There’s something really stinky in it,” she said, brushing her lips across my temple before heading for the door. “I’ll see you soon, Anna. Have a good day!”
“Bye, Mrs. O’Brien,” Anna called after her. My mother’s footsteps pounded down the building stairs.
It was a quiet few hours. I checked the news to see if there’d been a murder spree in Solomon’s Folly. Nothing. Jess texted to check on me, and I sent her a small, inconsequential update. I didn’t mention what Anna had said; I figured I’d let the two of them sort out their friendship. I also didn’t bother changing out of my pajamas. For that matter, Anna didn’t bother changing out of my pajamas, either.
Anna’s parents collected her a little earlier than Kitty’s scheduled arrival. I was alone, hugging my supply of salt. I’d covered most of the shiny surfaces in my room, including socks on the doorknobs and paper bags over the windows. Glass bottles were bagged, pictures were all removed and tucked into the closet.
Kitty arrived just after twelve. I came out of my room in the same checkered pj pants and tank top from last night to discover Kitty wielding a large pizza in one hand and holding Bronx’s hand with the other.
Bronx waved at me, looking around the apartment. He’d never been here before, and I always got a little self-conscious when people visited for the first time. It wasn’t really a showcase, but he smiled and motioned at the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Those are cool. They remind me of church windows.”
“That’s because it used to be a church way back when,” I said.
“Ah, cool,” he said.
“Sorry we’re late. Figured we’d pick up some stuff on the way,” Kitty said. She put the pizza down on the coffee table and then dropped her pocketbook on the armchair. It was a huge leather bag—the type that weird girls carry small dogs in. Kitty didn’t have anything living inside her bag. Just salt. Lots and lots of salt. She brought out three canisters and lined them up on top of the entertainment unit.
“How are you holding up? How was last night?” Kitty asked. I waited for both of them to sit before picking my spot on the floor next to the table, purposefully keeping my back to the television. Kitty and Bronx claimed the couch, Bronx eagerly diving into the pizza. “Bronx and I were talking. This Bloody Mary thing is so unreal. We’ve got to figure out a solution soon. I’ve covered all my mirrors and I’m not the one haunted. I can’t get her out of my head.”
Bronx nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m a tough dude, but after that insanity Friday in school, I just…yeah. This is messed up.”
“Thanks, guys. Last night was…I don’t know if it’s the worst that it’s been, but it was right up there.” I proceeded to explain all the details, from the drive to the abandoned church, the haunted basement, and the cop who kicked us off of Ms. Dietrich’s property. Kitty forgot to chew through the telling, the slice of pizza suspended halfway to her mouth. Bronx managed to continue eating despite his stunned expression.
“Holy crap,” Kitty said, putting the slice down to wipe her face with her shirtsleeve. Realizing Bronx was there, she cast him a quasi-guilty look before picking up a napkin and repeating the gesture.
“The worst part is we learned nothing,” I continued. “Zero. We could go back today, but it wasn’t safe the first time; it won’t be safe the second time even with daylight. I wish Cody would call me back. I’m worried about her.”
“I’m sure Cody’s fine,” Kitty said. Her hollow reassurance did little to boost my confidence.
“You did learn something, you know,” Bronx said a moment later. “If that church is on private property, maybe you can trace who owned it—you’ve got the current owner’s name. My dad’s big into tracking family ancestry. He’s up to three hundred years ago in Greece now with our family history. There’s a lot of information on the Web. The town hall would also help. They track everything, man—births, deaths, land purchases. You could maybe tie something back to Mary that way.”
I nodded along as Bronx spoke. It was worth a try. I wasn’t sure what I’d find, but compared to the big pile of zero viable solutions I had, it was another lead. A better idea than Jess’s solution to find a new victim.
It was also a better idea than going back to the church.
“Why not?” I said. “Mary might be buried in the church. Or might have been. If so, maybe the person who owned the church knew something about her death. Or maybe Ms. Dietrich owned the church when it flooded and could tell us if any remains were disturbed. I’m grasping at straws here.”
“Ugh. Yeah, but good luck talking to her if she’s the one who called the cops on you,” Kitty said.
I shrugged. “It was dark, and we were far enough across the river that it would have been hard to see us. I don’t have to tell her I was the one trespassing. Either way. Thanks, you two. I might try to research more before I go back to the basement. Although I’m not sure I’ve got the guts to go back now. There’s more to see in the daylight, I know, but it was so...” I couldn’t finish the sentence. Thinking about Mary tearing up out of the water, the bugs, the bats. I shuddered.
Bronx forced a smile for my sake and slid the pizza box my way. I took a slice,
hoping it was enough to distract me from the memory of last night. And the night before that. And the day before that. Kitty reached out to thread her fingers through his black hair. He batted her away, but she kept going at his bangs and giggling. He smirked at her, and when she wouldn’t stop fussing, he put his pizza back into the box to tug her into his lap. She squealed as he half turned her so her legs were dangling over the side of the couch, her sandals falling to the floor with thuds. I watched her offer him a bite from her own slice. He unhinged his jaw to devour half of it in one go.
“Wow. Hungry much, you hog?” Kitty asked. Bronx tossed his head back to laugh.
“I’m an athlete. We have big appetites,” he said. Apparently she bought into it because she fed him the rest of her slice before grabbing herself another. When he lunged forward to try to steal that, too, she bopped him on the nose with one of her acrylic nails.
This was more like the Kitty I knew. The morose girl we’d been shouldering for the last month lacked this sunshine. Maybe it was kind of dumb that it took a boy to get her back on track, but I wasn’t going to complain. She was happy. I needed a little happy around me.
“Glad you two are better,” I said. Both of them turned to smile at me, then at each other, and I suddenly felt like an outsider in my own house. They were doing that mind-meld couple thing people who’d been dating awhile did, and it gave me a third-wheel complex. I got up to get myself a drink, but paused to grab one of Kitty’s canisters of salt before heading into the kitchen. The moment my back was turned, I heard what sounded like a lip-smacking kiss. I smirked as I approached the fridge. Brushed steel surface or not, I had to drink. Fortunately, Mary wasn’t inside the shine.
I grumbled, unsure of how to express dread and relief at the same time.
I tugged open the door and grabbed an iced tea. Right as I latched on to the can, a loud bellowing rang out from the parking lot. It took me a second to identify the siren sound as an obnoxious, whirring car alarm. Bronx gently shoved Kitty aside before heading for the windows. He rummaged through his pocket to pull out his car keys, his thumb hitting a button on the plastic alarm thing.
“If someone bumped my dad’s car, he’ll kill me. I’m going to go check it out,” he announced, turning around to head to the front door. Except Bronx never got the chance.
Spindly arms of yellow bone and gray flesh burst out from the windowpanes and wrapped around his torso. Bronx’s eyes bulged, a high-pitched squeal ripping from his throat. The biggest, strongest guy I knew was yanked off his feet like he weighed nothing. He hovered there a second, thrashing and kicking against the windows. The arms jerked him back. Hard. The windows exploded as Bronx was thrust outside, hurtling through the air, body spiraling to the ground amid a rain of sparkling glass.
I had no idea how she’d done it. So far, Mary had struck out through the glass or pulled things into the glass when the surface had softened. This time, Bronx hit something solid. The only explanation I could come up with was maybe it’d been jelly until he collided and she chose to let the surface harden. By then, the force of her pull was enough to send him sailing. Which meant she’d done it this way on purpose. Mary wanted Bronx to fall.
I stared at the empty space Bronx had just occupied. Kitty’s screams echoed around the room, heart-wrenching and shrill. I never made a sound, not even when I raced to the window to see what I could do to help. Yes, Mary could still be near, but I had my salt. I hadn’t dropped it, and I opened the top and sprayed it around as I neared the man-size gap, waving it back and forth like a fire extinguisher.
My imagination had already painted the world red, Bronx landing on his head and smashing his brains across the pavement. I forced myself to look. Bronx was sprawled on the ground below, but there was very little blood. He’d landed in such a way that his upper half was cushioned by shrubs. The problem was his legs. They were bent at odd angles, and one of his feet pointed in the opposite direction it was supposed to go.
She’d crippled him. Bloody Mary had crippled Bronx simply because he was near me, in my house. I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth so I wouldn’t cry out, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. I felt horrible. I barely knew Bronx, but my ghost had managed to hurt him all the same. I wanted to throw up, to scream and tear down the walls around me, but Bronx needed me calm, not bugging out and shrieking in panic like Kitty. It was my fault he was down there. It was my fault that I hadn’t insisted my friends leave when Cody told me to let them go.
This was my fault.
It was then that I heard him. It was faint, but I could hear him calling for us. He needed my help, not my self-recriminations. I made for the door, grabbing Kitty’s arm and dragging her behind me as I ran for the steps. “Call 911,” I said, but she was too busy screaming to hear me. I stopped on the second flight to shake her hard enough to rattle her teeth, my tear-stained eyes boring into hers. “Kitty, he’s alive. Call 911 now!” I yelled at her.
She whimpered and fumbled in her pocket for her phone, following me as I raced for the building’s foyer. I heard her talking a second later, her voice cracking when she had to tell the operator the nature of her emergency. I nearly ripped the front door off its hinges as I ran outside, vaulting over trash barrels and thrusting bags of recycling aside to get to Bronx.
He turned his head to look at me, face pale, eyes glassy.
“What was that? The arms. Was that her? Was it her?”
“Yes,” I said, crouching beside him. Bronx grabbed for my hand, squeezing my fingers so hard, I was afraid he’d shatter them. “Kitty called the ambulance. They’re on their way.”
“My legs hurt. Real bad. They hurt, Shauna.”
“I know. I’m so, so sorry.” I considered telling him it was good he felt pain, that we were lucky he wasn’t numb from the waist down or dead, but I was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear that. Bronx gave my hand another squeeze and I winced. Kitty caught up with us, tears streaming down her cheeks and dribbling off her chin.
“Oh, Bronx. Baby,” she said, collapsing onto her knees beside him. She reached for his other hand and slid her fingers over his. He turned his face to stare at her. She managed a watery smile, but then his body convulsed, his spine arching up off the pavement as he let out a wet gurgle and a roar. Kitty climbed on top of him then, sprawling her body over his as she wept hysterically.
“Kitty, be careful. He’s fragile. Just be careful, okay?” I whispered. Anything else I could have said was cut off by the siren of an approaching ambulance.
Kitty hugged me and climbed into the ambulance with Bronx. I watched the lights disappear around the street bend before going upstairs. I hadn’t noticed the glass on the pavement before, but now, when I wasn’t hyped up on terror and adrenaline, I saw how lucky I was that I hadn’t ripped my heels to shreds running outside to get to Bronx. I glanced up at my apartment and peered at the shattered opening in the wall. From here, it looked like a jagged wound in the building’s side.
I called my mother to tell her what happened, repeating myself several times through tears and hysterics. She told me she was leaving work now and to stay put. I hurried inside to wait for her. She was going to kill me. It was an accident, yes, but one I couldn’t explain. She’d asked me how it happened on the phone, and I just kept saying I didn’t know over and over again. But I did know. I just didn’t know how to make her believe me.
Mom flew into the apartment twenty minutes later. I was curled on the couch around a box of salt, sobbing. I heard the door slam. I lifted my face to her, my eyes so bleary with tears I could barely see. I was able to catch Mom’s expression, though. Fury. But seeing me crumpled and limp and weepy, she softened and rushed to my side. She sank into the cushion next to me, stroking my hair. I hadn’t cried like this since I was a little kid, but I didn’t care. There was no shame. I cried for Bronx. I cried because of what happened last night. I cried because I was afraid I was going to get everyone killed. I cried because I was going to die.
It took
a while for me to regain control. My mother crooned to me all the while and, when she was convinced I didn’t have a tear left to shed, repeated her questions from earlier. I went with the simplest explanation I could conjure: he was leaning against the windows and they broke. It was an old building, it was plausible, which was probably why she didn’t drill me too much. “No, Mom, no one was horsing around. And no, Mom, no one pushed him.” It was good enough for her.
“Why don’t you go lie down?” she said, her lips skimming across my forehead. “I have to make some calls, clean up around here. We’ll check on your friend later, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay. Thanks.” If she thought it was weird that I was hugging a box of salt like a teddy bear, she was good enough not to say so. My thoughts were on fire, hopping from one terrible Mary thing to the next. Lying on my bed, I replayed the events of the last week over and over and reduced myself to a quivering, sniffly mess. My temples pounded from all the crying, but I reached for my cell to call Cody again anyway. This time she answered. It wasn’t the relief it would have been an hour ago; I knew Mary was on me now, back in the glass where she belonged. I knew because I’d watched her fling a kid out a window.
“Hi, Cody,” I said, hiccupping at the end and gritting my teeth. “Hi. Sorry to bother you again.”
“No, no. Hi, Shauna. I called you back a little while ago and you didn’t answer. Is everything okay?”
“No. No, everything isn’t okay.” I told her all the same things I’d told Kitty and Bronx earlier about the church, but now there was an epilogue to the story, and I told her that, too. I heard her suck in air on the other end of the line before she groaned, like I’d gut-punched her.
“You need to get away. I told you this, and I don’t say things because I like to hear myself talk. For their sake as much as yours, get rid of your friends. I lived with that guilt, that survivor’s guilt, and it’s awful. You need to split off now before it gets worse.”
Mary (Bloody Mary) Page 14
