by Kate Brian
By the time she had flattened herself against the wall beneath what she knew to be Harrison’s window, she was panting in a highly unfeminine way. This, she did care about. She forced herself to take a few deep, steadying breaths, counted to one hundred, then stooped and picked up a handful of the tiny pebbles that served as a border around the outside of the house. She stepped back, cocked her arm, and threw them at the glass pane two stories up.
Eliza looked up at the window. Nothing. No movement at all. Grabbing another handful of rocks, she took a step back.
“Elizabeth Williams, what are you doing?”
Eliza whirled around, heart in her throat, hand still suspended and full of dirt and pebbles. Harrison and Jonathan both stood before her in athletic pants and sleeveless shirts. Their skin shone with sweat, and their breath was heavy. Jonathan bent at the waist to catch his breath, but Harrison stood straight and took a few steps toward her. Eliza found she could not tear her eyes from the glistening skin of his shoulders.
“What are you . . . I . . . ?” She tossed the pebbles to the ground and dusted her hands off. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Training,” Harrison replied. His expression was hesitant, confused. Not that she could blame him, since she’d so callously tossed him from her room the last time they’d met. “Jonathan and I are trying out for the school’s running team.”
“You’re trying out,” Jonathan said, still bent at the waist. He slapped Harrison’s chest as he hobbled past, headed for the Ketlar door. “I’m clearly not fit enough for this.”
“Where are you going?” Harrison asked.
“To curl up in a corner and die, I expect,” Jonathan replied, only half joking. “You two kids enjoy yourselves.”
Harrison looked about to protest, but Eliza reached for his hand and he fell silent. The door swung open and slammed closed, and Jonathan was gone, leaving the couple alone in the dewy pink light of morning.
“What are you doing here?” he asked her. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is amazing,” Eliza said. “It’s just . . . I’ve been up all night long, and when the sun came up this morning . . . all I could think about was you.”
Slowly the creases smoothed away from Harrison’s handsome face and he smiled, his blue eyes shining with relief. He opened his mouth to speak, but then somewhere nearby, another door slammed. Harrison looked around, then took Eliza’s hand.
“Come on. I know a place we can go that’s a bit more private.”
Harrison led Eliza around the back of the building, then behind Drake Hall and to the back of Gwendolyn. For a moment she thought he was going to take her down into the basement again, but instead he walked her around the side of the building, peeked around the corner, and then mounted the steps. Through the stone archway was a small outdoor room with a bench built into the solid rock wall. The cavelike space cut them off completely from sight. She sunk down onto the slatted wooden bench and Harrison sat next to her, still clutching her hand. As she looked down at their entwined fingers, Eliza was so full of emotion, she felt as if it was choking her.
She was with Harrison. She was with Harrison. She was with Harrison.
“Eliza,” he said, searching her eyes. “Tell me you’ve changed your mind. Tell me that’s why you’re here before I go completely insane.”
“Well, we can’t have that,” Eliza said with a laugh. “Yes, Harrison. That’s why I’m here.”
Harrison smiled, his joy so pure it was written all over his face. Then he cupped Eliza’s face with both hands and kissed her. Already breathless, Eliza felt as if she might faint as Harrison’s lips searched hers. She sunk against him, oblivious to the rules of modesty and propriety. Right then, she wanted to feel all of him and to let him feel all of her. His hands trailed over her shoulders and down her back and he pulled her to him—so close, she felt as if her heart was beating against his.
“I’m so glad you came,” Harrison said finally. He kept his arms looped around her waist, his nose practically touching hers as he spoke. “I’m going to break it off with Theresa,” Harrison said. “I’ll do it today, this morning, right now.”
No more did Eliza care about Theresa’s feelings. Not after the way the girl had turned on her last night. The girl was capricious, selfish— untrustworthy. “Today will be fine. I’m in no rush.”
Harrison lifted a hand and gently smoothed Eliza’s hair away from her face.“But I am. I can’t pretend not to feel the way I do anymore,” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “I love you, Elizabeth.”
Her heart caught so deliciously it sent shock waves of delightful shivers all through her fingertips and her toes.
“I think I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you riding in the carriage,” Harrison continued. “Who knew the day you set foot on this campus would be the day my life changed forever?”
Eliza smiled and closed her eyes, solidifying this moment in her memory—the one moment of her entire life that she knew she would never, ever want to forget. Then she opened them again and looked into the eyes of Harrison Knox—the eyes, she suddenly realized, she would be looking into for the rest of her life. Her throat was still full, as were her heart, her lungs, her everything. But somehow, she managed to speak four small words.
“I love you, too.”
Something Else
Still dizzy from an hour spent alone with Harrison, kissing, holding hands, and whispering all their hopes and dreams to each other, Eliza snuck back into Crenshaw House, closing the door carefully behind her. The house was deathly silent, all the girls still sleeping after their late night of revelry. Eliza took the stairs at a run, thinking she might wake Catherine when she got back to their room. After all, Catherine had been gone for a few days, and so much had happened. She and Harrison had shared their first kiss. They had said “I love you.” And now there was talk of the future—once Harrison spoke with Theresa, of course. Everything was happening so fast, but none of it would be happening at all if not for Catherine.
Arriving at the closed door of their room, Eliza bit her lip and stifled a girlish laugh as the gesture brought the sensation of Harrison’s kisses back to her mouth. She quietly turned the doorknob and stepped inside.
But as soon as she did, her heart dropped through the floor.
Catherine sat on the edge of Eliza’s bed, her feet planted squarely on the floor, her eyes staring dead ahead, as she slowly, systematically, tore Eliza’s copy of A Tale of Two Cities to pieces, page by cherished page.
“Catherine!” Eliza gasped, stepping forward. “What are you doing?”
Catherine tilted her head toward Eliza in that odd, jerking way, staring straight through her, but never pausing in her task. She tore a page, dropped it on the floor, then tore the next, then the next, then the next. The action, the staring—it was as if she was taunting Eliza. Torturing her. Eliza felt the sudden urge to grab the girl and shake her for destroying the one and only gift Harrison had ever given her. But she paused and forced herself to remain calm.
“Catherine,” she said coolly. “That book belongs to me. Might I have it back?”
She laid her hand out flat, but Catherine continued to rip the pages from the spine. Her eyes were glazed, lifeless, blank. A sliver of fear sliced down Eliza’s spine. Helen’s words echoed in her mind.
“That’s not Catherine. At least, not the Catherine you knew.”
No, Eliza told herself. She just needs time. She’s been through so much. Of course she needs time to get back to her old self.
Screwing up her courage, Eliza walked across the room until she was standing in front of Catherine. The girl’s head jerked, following her, but her eyes still stared, unfocused, as if gazing right past her. Eliza’s heart gripped with terror.
This was terribly not right.
Rip, toss, rip, toss, rip, toss. One of the pages hit Eliza’s foot, and she swallowed back an anguished cry. The book. The precious, precious book. All in pieces.
Just
reason with her. She’ll be all right if you reason with her.
Eliza knelt on the floor at Catherine’s feet, her knees resting on so many fallen pages.
“Catherine, please,” she said quietly. “Please, stop. It’s me. It’s Eliza. Your best friend.”
Suddenly Catherine let out a piercing screech, so inhuman it stopped Eliza’s heart cold. Eliza froze, her eyes widening in horror as Catherine threw what was left of the book at the wall.
“Catherine! What are you—”
But before Eliza could choke out the words, Catherine hurtled off the bed and threw her entire weight on top of Eliza, curling her fingers around Eliza’s throat. Her fingers were like claws of ice, their grip so strong that Eliza’s eyes bulged from the strain. The chain of her locket cut into her flesh, and she could feel the pendant begin to burn.
A terrified scream escaped Eliza’s lungs, but Catherine’s powerful fingers squeezed it into a strangled whimper. Eliza’s head slammed back against the hardwood floor, and she grasped at Catherine’s wrists with her hands.
“No,” Eliza croaked. “No, Catherine. Please.” She managed to turn her head to look up into the face of her tormentor. Catherine’s teeth were set in a fierce grimace, like some kind of feral animal.
But it was her eyes that stopped Eliza’s heart cold.
They were dead. There was no life in them. No sign of Catherine in them at all.
“You did this,” Catherine said, her voice a throaty growl. “You. It was you. You did this.”
“No! It’s not my fault,” Eliza whimpered, her voice but a weak rasp. “I didn’t know, Catherine. I didn’t know.”
“You did this to me. You did this,” the thing repeated mercilessly.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t know. I didn’t . . .” Tears streamed from the corners of Eliza’s eyes, across her temples and into her hair. “Stop,” she pleaded, trying in vain to breathe. “Please, stop.”
She did not use Catherine’s name again, for she now realized, far too late, that Helen was right. This thing was not her friend.
Eliza struggled to breathe, but no air would come. The thing that wasn’t Catherine had a grip like a vise, and it seemed to be growing tighter by the second.
“You did this. You. You did this to me.”
I’m going to die, Eliza thought suddenly, an image of Harrison’s smiling face floating through her mind. I’m going to die right here, and he’ll never understand why.
Her vision started to prickle over with colorful dots, and her hands fell away from the thing’s wrists as darkness started to take her. It tightened its grip and shook her, banging her head against the floor again, over and over and over, and slowly Eliza began to let go.
“You did this. You. You did this to me. It was you. You did this to me.” Yes, it was me. I killed Catherine, Eliza thought, her spirit giving in. I brought this thing back in her place. It was me. I did it. I deserve to die.
And then the door to her room opened.
“Eliza!” Theresa screamed.
The thing was not distracted by the visitor. Its grip merely tightened. But Eliza’s eyes popped open in hope. “Theresa,” she croaked. “Help me. Help . . .”
Theresa grabbed the first heavy object she saw, Catherine’s copy of Wuthering Heights, and wielded it over the thing’s head.
Do it, Eliza thought. Please, just do it. Just end this.
But as Theresa brought the book down, Helen ran in and snatched it out of her hands.
Theresa whirled on her. “What are you—”
“That will do nothing,” Helen said, tossing the book aside. She grabbed Theresa’s hand. “Repeat this with me: ‘Creature from beyond the grave, this is not your home. Return to the darkness from whence you came, and leave this soul alone.’”
At the sound of the spell, the thing lifted one hand from Eliza’s neck and pointed at Theresa and Helen. “Curses on you! All of you! Curses on your families and all the fruit you may bear. Curses on you for all eternity!”
Shaking, Theresa and Helen clung to each other and recited the spell.
“Creature from beyond the grave, this is not your home. Return to the darkness from whence you came, and leave this soul alone.”
Eliza was just about to black out again when suddenly the grip on her throat was released. The thing that wasn’t Catherine stood up and stepped toward Theresa and Helen. Eliza curled into a ball on the floor, unable to do anything but fight for air.
“Again!” Helen screamed.
“Creature from beyond the grave, this is not your home. Return to the darkness from whence you came, and leave this soul alone!”
“Curses! Curses on all of you!” the thing wailed.
It took another step, but this time its legs were quaking. Eliza saw this from the corner of her eye. The spell was working, but it was not strong enough. She reached for Helen’s ankle, the only part of her she could hope to touch, and clung to her for dear life.
“Again!” Eliza croaked.
“Creature from beyond the grave, this is not your home!” the three girls shouted together. “Return to the darkness from whence you came, and leave this soul alone!”
The thing made one desperate lunge, reaching for Theresa’s throat. Theresa let out a scream, but before the hands could reach her, the thing that wasn’t Catherine went stiff and fell over onto the floor. Its eyes stared across at Eliza, and as Eliza watched in horror, they slowly glassed over with a gray fog. Whimpering, Eliza sat up, gagging and coughing and sobbing, her hands at her throat. The locket instantly turned cold, but Eliza could feel that it had scorched her skin. Theresa hit her knees and reached for Eliza as she crawled away from the body and toward the door. They clung to each other as Eliza’s body was racked with choking sobs and coughs.
“She attacked me,” Eliza heard herself say. “She attacked me.”
“Why?” Theresa asked. “Why would Catherine do that? After we brought her back. After all we did for her.”
“We didn’t bring back Catherine,” Helen said flatly, staring at the lifeless body. “We brought back something else entirely.”
Crime
Eliza could not stop crying. Since the moment Theresa had wrapped her in her strong arms on the floor of her dormitory room, tears had been running down her face without pause. Even now, as she, Helen, and Theresa carried Catherine’s body through the woods for the second time, the flow was continuous. Tears sluiced down her cheeks and dripped onto the bodice of her dress. She hated appearing weak to Theresa and Helen, neither of whom had shed so much as one tear, but she couldn’t stop the flood.
She had no idea how her friends were so unaffected. How could they not be moved by the wretchedness of what had occurred? With every moment that passed, Eliza’s misery mounted—another recollection, another realization. She had thought she’d saved Catherine, but all she’d done was bring some fiend to life on Earth.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Eliza, please stop blubbering,” Theresa said through her teeth as they hobbled past the white rock with Catherine’s sagging form between them. Theresa had been walking backward the entire way, craning her neck to see over her shoulder and keep from tripping. “It’s almost over.”
“No, it’s not,” Eliza replied, her voice thick with tears. Her throat throbbed mercilessly. Angry, purple, finger-shaped bruises had already begun to form on her neck before the girls had even left Crenshaw. But as unsightly and painful as they were, they were meager penance for everything she had done. “It will never be over. Catherine will always be dead.”
“This is not your fault, Eliza,” Helen said, running forward to hold a branch aside so that the girls could duck through. “You could not have known this would happen.”
But it is my fault that she died the first time. Theresa came after me, and Catherine went after her. If not for me, none of this would have happened, Eliza thought, clenching her jaw. If she hadn’t been sneaking around with Harrison behind Theresa’s back, none of this would have happen
ed. That is the crime I will carry with me all my days.
“Be careful. We’re going down,” Theresa said.
She backed down the slope into the ravine, her feet sliding on the dry dirt, loosening a few rocks, which bounced down and splashed into the shallow water. Eliza held her breath and gritted her teeth, struggling to keep hold of Catherine’s ankles. Her fingers were slick with sweat, and every inch of her body itched from the exertion.
“Lay her here. This is where she first fell,” Theresa said.
Carefully, Theresa bent and laid Catherine’s head on the rock which had been her end. The jagged surface was still stained with Catherine’s blood. Eliza placed Catherine’s feet down, then took a few steps back, trying to catch her breath.
“It’s no good,” Helen said, looking down at them from the top of the ravine. “She wouldn’t be lying so straight.”
Eliza gave a sob and turned away. Theresa clucked her tongue in frustration.
“If you want something done right, better to do it yourself,” she muttered.
Eliza could hear the girl’s feet slipping on the stones, splashing around as she rearranged Catherine’s body.
“There. Is that better?” she asked.
Eliza glanced over her shoulder. Theresa had arranged Catherine so that she was on her side, one arm flung behind her, her legs bent as if she was running.
“Yes. That should do it,” Helen said.
Eliza covered her eyes and cried. She said a silent prayer, pleading with God to forgive her for all she had done. Then she felt Theresa’s arm around her waist.
“It will be all right, Eliza,” Theresa whispered in her ear. “Our spell will have broken last night. Today Miss Almay and the instructors will realize Catherine is missing. They’ll send out a search party and when they find her, they’ll think she simply went for a walk alone and fell. Everything is going to be fine.”
