The Lost Girls

by Sonia Hartl

  “Not so loud.” She rubbed her fingers over her eyelids. “She met a guy online, of course, and he lives in Tennessee. She said we’re leaving in a few weeks.”

  Right around the time we’d be doing the ritual. Maybe she’d be okay after all.

  “I’m not going with her.” Parker sat up and swallowed some aspirin, drinking down half the bottle of water in one gulp. “I never get to stay anywhere long enough to make friends, but this place is different. I actually have people here now. I’m not leaving again.”

  “What are you going to do if you don’t go with her?”

  “Move in with Elton. He called me last night when I was on my way to the park, and he said I could move in with him.” Her cheeks pinked. “He told me he was in love with me.”

  “He’s lying.” Elton didn’t love anyone but himself. “He loves control. He loves having power over people. That’s not what love is supposed to be like.”

  “You’re just bitter because he broke up with you.” Even as she said the words, she didn’t look like she fully believed them, and it gave me a small bit of hope.

  “You know that’s not true,” I said quietly.

  “I have no other choice.” She crossed her arms. “Unless you have a better idea?”

  I had a million other, better ideas. “You could go with your mom, at least for a few weeks; you could move out on your own; you could stay with us for a little while.”

  “There are three of you and two bedrooms.” She stood, stretching her arms over her head, revealing just a small bit of skin between her jeans and T-shirt. “I like you, but Elton wants to be my boyfriend, and the weird dynamic you two have already makes it hard to be your friend. I appreciate you letting me crash on your couch, but please don’t push me on this.”

  She grabbed her gray peacoat off the back of the couch and headed for the door.

  “You’re leaving?” I jumped to my feet. “You’re just going to drop that and leave?”

  She couldn’t walk out after that. There had to be something I could say. She could have Ida’s room or Rose’s (if we could get her to stop bringing kills home); she could have anything she wanted if she stayed. This wasn’t supposed to be happening yet. Elton was moving more quickly than he had with any of us. We needed more time.

  “I have to get home. For all I know, my mom is packing right now, and I need to start transferring my stuff out. One time when we were living in Oregon, she moved to Seattle and forgot to take me, so I sat in our empty apartment for two days waiting for her to come back.”

  “No offense, but your mom sounds like a mess.” My mom ruined my formative years and made it nearly impossible for me to have a normal childhood, but at least she never left me in random cities by myself. I guess I could thank her for that.

  “Now you see why I’ve got to go.” She looked around like she wanted to linger, but didn’t really know how. “Anyway. Thanks again.”

  I didn’t say anything as she walked out. I just stared at the door, wondering how this could’ve all gone so wrong. I thought we’d been making progress. Yesterday morning at the diner, I’d been so sure things had changed. I’d hoped she had at least considered stepping back from Elton, but not likely, when she still seemed to be flattered by his attention and his false declarations of love. At this rate, he’d turn her by the end of the week.

  “We heard everything,” Rose said as she came out of the bedroom with Ida trailing behind. “We have no choice. We move on to the graveyard tonight.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  This was poorly planned out from the start. None of us wanted to take part in this. Ida laid her sister to rest a hundred years ago, and she’d done her grieving, she’d learned how to move on from it. This was just going to dig it all up again. Literally.

  While Rose laid out a map of the cemetery, complete with red lines and times for the security rotations, Ida stepped out for a few hours. She returned with a bloody stump that turned out to be a human leg. Or, as she liked to call it, an art project.

  “Are you sure midnight is the best time?” I asked. “Wouldn’t security increase at that time, seeing as how we’re so close to Halloween and people are fools?”

  “You’d think.” Rose shrugged. “This is when they do shift change. I don’t make the rules. Lucky for us, the older graves are in the back and don’t get checked as often because they generally don’t have family around to complain if something isn’t right.”

  “Ida?” I looked over to where she’d set out her leg, having already washed it, dried it, and covered it in clear rubber sealant. She painted little black diamonds in a crisscrossing pattern up the thigh. “Do you have any thoughts on what time we should get there, since we’ll mostly be taking direction from you?”

  Even though Rose and I agreed to do all of the digging, because of the mental toll it would take on Ida, we still wanted to make sure we were doing what she felt was best. My feelings toward my mom were ever complex, mostly tinged with resentment, and I still couldn’t stomach the idea of opening her coffin years after she died.

  I couldn’t imagine what it must’ve been like for Ida to do this with someone she loved.

  “I’d rather not make decisions on the details.” Her bottom lip stuck out as she kept full concentration on the pattern she drew on the leg. “It’s bad enough that I’ll have to stand guard while you dig her up and act like you’re not putting your gross, undead hands into her coffin.”

  “Fair enough.” I turned back to Rose. “Midnight is fine.”

  After we put the finishing touches on our plan for the night, we took a trip down to the hardware store to use my last paycheck to buy some shovels. I’d have to get another job soon if I wanted to put away a small amount of money while I stayed with Rose and Ida for free. I had no idea how they managed to have such a nice apartment when neither worked. I made a mental to note to ask one of them later.

  A newspaper rested on the edge of a trashcan, and I picked it up when I read the headline “Wild Animal Makes the Night Manager a Fourth Meal at Taco Bell.” The tactlessness of it tickled my funny bone. Apparently, Jimmy had been fined in the past for trying to purchase a jaguar to keep in his residential neighborhood. Police assumed it was an illegal big-cat deal gone bad. No longer my problem. I tossed the newspaper into the next bin.

  In the hardware store, the cashier, with a look of horrified fascination in her eyes, snapped her gum as she watched us walk up and down the aisles. We grabbed a couple of shovels plus the lampshade and hot-glue gun Ida had requested. The cashier shuddered as she handed me the change for a twenty by giving me another twenty. I wasn’t going to complain.

  On the way back to the apartment, I slipped into the antique shop next to our apartment and bought Rose a fish-shaped paperweight made out of carnival glass to add to her collection as a thank-you for taking me in. I’d grab a random body part off my next kill for Ida.

  When we got back, Ida had sewn together some fringe and finished painting what looked like a fishnet stocking on the leg. She’d put one of Rose’s black heels on it.

  I handed her the lampshade we brought home. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  Ida took the lampshade and hot-glued the fringe around the bottom, then stuck it to the bloody stump, where it had been ripped out of the hip socket. She held it up, her expression like a proud kid who just took the first place trophy on field day. “What do you think? It’s the leg lamp from A Christmas Story.”

  “You are seriously demented,” I said.

  Ida batted her lashes. “Please stop complimenting me, I might remember how to blush.”

  “If you’re both done screwing around, we should probably go.” Rose had changed into a little safari outfit with hiking boots, olive pants, and matching shirt knotted at the waist. She’d tied her short bob into a red bandanna. It took an impressive amount of skill to turn our mission of digging up Ida’s dead sister into a costume party. Yet there we were. “It’ll take us at least two hours to walk there.”
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  “Why are we walking?” Ida whined. “Why can’t we take the bus?”

  “Oh, now you’re a fan of the bus,” I said.

  “We can’t take the chance of anyone tracking us to the graveyard if things go sideways tonight, okay?” Rose thrust one of the shovels into my hands. “You both should put on better shoes. It’s a six-mile hike.”

  Once we changed our shoes, and did a little more bitching just to annoy Rose, we headed out. It wasn’t so bad walking. We had plenty of stamina since our bodies didn’t require rest, and the dark fall night was actually soothing. Leaves scuttled down the street on a phantom wind. The streets were near empty on a Sunday night. It was still warm enough to be comfortable but with a hint of a chill just beginning to snap in the air.

  We made it to the edge of the graveyard at just after 11:30 p.m.

  For a place that had bodies going back two hundred years, I expected a lot more ambiance. Black iron, spiky spires, and a creaky gate that opened by itself at the stroke of midnight. None of that was present. It was just a stretch of neatly trimmed grass dotted with headstones of varying sizes.

  “This is it.” Rose glanced at Ida. “You okay?”

  “Fine.” Ida took a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with.”

  We made our way to the back of the cemetery. The dark pressed in on us as we moved farther away from the edge of the road. The open expanse of space dropped the temperature by ten degrees. Trees, near leafless already, had twisted branches that reached for the starlit night.

  We had gotten almost to the end, where a small forest of birch trees marked the cemetery’s property line, when Ida flung out her arm, bringing us to a halt. “Right there. That’s where Bea is buried.”

  We set our shovels down and wandered closer to the grave. Bea had been buried in the third-to-last row under a birch tree. A few golden leaves still clung to its bone-white branches. The headstone was flat and plain, with a small angel carved into the granite. It read: BEATRICE RADLEY, BELOVED DAUGHTER AND SISTER, 1907–1921.

  “She was only fourteen.” I dipped my head in silent respect for the girl who would’ve been long dead now regardless, but still left a dull ache in my heart for her sister who had been left behind to carry the grief past a lifetime. “I’m so sorry, Ida.”

  “I appreciate the condolences, but I can’t treat this like a second funeral.” Ida hugged her chest and turned her back to us. “I barely survived mourning her the first time.”

  I’d opened my mouth to offer more meaningless comfort when Rose shook her head. “Let her be.” She tossed me a shovel and plunged the spade of hers into the grave. “The best thing we can do for her now is to make this quick.”

  Without another word between us, we dug. It was slow, painful work. Even with my immortal stamina, my muscles quivered. Each shovelful was heavier than the last. Clay threaded through the dirt made each crack into the earth feel like chipping through a frozen lake. Hours later, my spade hit a hard surface with a thunk. I kneeled down and brushed away the crumbling rubble, running my hand over a dull and dirty surface that had once been polished.

  “Found it,” I said to Rose.

  “Good, because I’m ready to drop dead. Again.” She came to me, tapping the earth with her shovel until we got the dimensions. “We’ll uncover the top enough to get the lid open.”

  “Nicely done, ladies.” We both looked up to where Elton prowled the edge of the hole we’d dug. He gave a slow clap, and once again my blood hummed while I simultaneously wanted to rip out his throat. “Thanks for doing all the hard work.”

  “You bastard.” Rose flung her shovel at his head, which he dodged with ease. He moved with the natural grace of a dancer, and he’d been very good at using those moves to seduce us.

  “Come on now, Rose.” He crouched, reaching into the grave to grasp her chin and rub his thumb along her jaw. “You’re better than that, love.”

  “I’m not your love.” She scrambled out of the grave. “Why are you here?”

  “You ought to know.” He was so heartbreakingly beautiful, like a Renaissance painting in motion. Too fluid and water-like to be real. Mischief lit his eyes, and it was as if the gods of sarcasm had blessed his smile with an edge of mockery. “I heard you’re collecting your heirlooms. Though I can’t think what on earth you’d need them for.”

  “We didn’t want it to come to this.” Rose took a step toward him, as though she couldn’t help the pull she felt, even as disgust etched her features. “We tried to tell you to back off of Parker, but you wouldn’t listen to reason.”

  “Ah, yes. Parker.” He rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip. “She is lovely, isn’t she?”

  “You—” A scream split the air, and Rose swung around. Her face froze as she took in whatever happened while she’d been busy arguing with Elton.

  Fearing the worst, I clawed my way out of the grave with more speed and energy than I should’ve had in reserves. Gwen had Ida tied to the birch tree at the head of her sister’s grave. Both of Ida’s arms were already gone and her torso had been ripped open, allowing her intestines to spill onto the ground like a tangled web of bloody snakes. Ida’s body would heal itself within minutes, but the pain would be unimaginable. It was Gwen’s favorite brand of fun.

  I lunged for them, and Frankie wrapped his meaty arms around me, pulling me to the side. “Don’t give her reason to tear you apart too,” he whispered in my ear.

  “You did this,” I hissed. There could be no other explanation. He had to have sold us out to Elton. No one else knew we were searching for heirlooms.

  “I didn’t say a damned thing.” His muddy brown eyes held an ocean of feelings, and I didn’t buy a single one. “Keep your mouth shut if you want to be spared pain.”

  “Hey, Holly. Not surprised to see you slumming it with the other castoffs.” Gwen, tall and lithe, still wore her bleached hair in the 1970s feathered style. She picked her fangs with her sharpened nails. “It’s so sad how the three of you couldn’t just move on.”

  “Not as sad as your belief that Frankie is loyal to you because he wants to be,” I said.

  Frankie’s grip on me tightened, but he didn’t say a word. His attention was too focused on Ida. He looked as if he was in nearly as much pain, even though his intestines remained perfectly intact. My sympathies were extremely limited.

  “Such a pretty girl.” Gwen circled Ida as if debating which chunk of her to cut away next. Her green cat eyes lit with malice as she tapped Ida’s left leg. “I can’t knock Elton’s taste.”

  I had to look away, but I’d never forget the sound of tendons snapping and Ida’s tortured scream as Gwen tore off her leg. We should’ve come here first. The first day we learned about the heirlooms. This was a mistake we’d all have to own.

  “We can keep hacking away at my first love, though I hate to see her in pain.” Elton leaned in closer to Ida and kissed her cheek. If I’d had a living stomach, I would’ve vomited the entire thing up. “Or you can give us her heirloom, and we can all leave here in one piece.”

  I glanced at Ida, who had already reformed her arms. Noticing the regrowth, Gwen ripped them both off again, throwing them into a nearby bush, where they’d turn to ash and blow away on the wind. While Ida screamed and thrashed against the birch, Frankie began to cry. It pissed me off enough to break free of his grasp. I dug my nails into his eyeballs, and as warm fluid and blood gushed over my fingers, he snapped my neck. My entire body flooded with pain as he dropped me to the ground like a discarded doll.

  “You’re a monster.” Rose, tiny and soft and the source of all things beautiful and soothing in my world, bared her teeth to Elton. Her entire body vibrated with unleashed rage. “You created this situation, but we no longer live on your terms.”

  “I’m the monster?” Elton chuckled, which sounded more like a low growl. “The three of you want to kill me. The one who gave you eternity. Where is my thanks?”

  Would this be what I’d be like once my memories were gone
? Would I be as cold and selfish as Elton and Gwen? Did losing their living memories cost them what little humanity they had left? The thought shook me down to my core, freezing my skin to near numbness. I couldn’t become like him. I could never be that heartless.

  My neck healed, and I stepped up beside Rose. While I’d given my mortality to the boy before me who would never be a man, I’d walk through a thousand fires for the girls who took me in with no questions asked. “You never told us the cost. You brought this on yourself.”

  “I brought eternal death on myself?” His aghast expression nearly made me laugh. It was so Elton to have such a narrow, selfish view. He couldn’t see any possibility where he wasn’t the constant victim. “What have I done to any of you besides break up with you? We had a good run, but we weren’t meant to be. It’s not my fault you can’t get over it.”

  “You manipulated us and made us believe you were the only one who loved us.” Rose shoved him, and he stumbled back a step. “You didn’t let me come home when my mother got sick. You didn’t let me go to her funeral, knowing full well I had no power to do so on my own.”

  He shrugged, his expression disinterested, like she was overreacting. I recognized the gesture well. Treating us like we were hysterical and dramatic was his favorite form of gaslighting. “She stopped being your mother the moment you died. You made that choice.”

  “Don’t you dare put this on us.” A rage like I’d never known rolled through my veins, pumping my blood at the same speed it whispered closer, closer, closer. “It wasn’t a real choice when you never told us there were others, or that we’d be tied to you even after you left us, or that people cared about us. We were missed.”

  “And most of those people who missed you are dead, while you live on.” Elton smoothed down his freshly pressed shirt, ever concerned about appearances. “I’m bored with all this, so we’re going to take the heirloom and go now.”

  Elton angled himself toward Bea’s open grave, knees bent, ready to jump. Ida let out a bloodcurdling scream, temporarily distracting him. Rose gave me a tight nod. Before I could process what she intended to do, she launched herself at Gwen, a tiny ball of fury and flame. Frankie began shouting, and I used the opportunity to grab Elton’s throat.