I crawled onto the thin mattress and slipped under the plain white sheets. No wonder I was sleeping worse than before; this tiny twin bed was way too hard to be comfortable, and the blankets were scratchy compared to the worn flannel sheets I had at home. My old home.
I pulled the green notebook out of the drawer on the bedside table. There was no alarm clock on the table, but I knew before I even looked at my cell that it was a little past 3:33 a.m. Quickly, I scribbled down the contents of my dream. It was new, and I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. There had been a few dreams right after Athena drowned that were similar to this one. However, they had never been so vivid, and the gold key was odd.
I really was exhausted. The nightmares always made me tired, but sleepwalking? The new experience had left me completely depleted of energy. My mind was fuzzy, and my bones were heavy as lead.
Maybe Athena was sleepwalking, too.
It might explain why she had been feeling so drained. I tried to find anything in my memory that would point to that. Bruises from bumping into furniture? Food going missing from the kitchen in the middle of the night? But before I could think of anything else, I fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
The next morning I awoke to a soft gray light streaming in the window behind my bed. The filmy white curtains would have been totally ineffective in my bedroom in California, with the floor-to-ceiling windows and bright Los Angeles sunshine, but here in dusky Shadow Hills, they were more than adequate.
As I washed up in the bathroom—which I found slightly unsettling after my dream—I checked on the strange mark I’d seen on my hip yesterday. Not only was the red half moon still there, but now there was a second one above it. While the first crescent-shaped line had been vertical and facing toward the right, this new one was horizontal and facing down. The dark pink marks were each about an inch long. I tried to ignore the creeping, itchy feeling that slipped across my skin. I had probably dug my nails into my hip during my nightmare. No big deal.
When I got back to my room, I noticed the screen on my phone was lit up. I’d missed a call from Ariel. I picked up my cell and hit speed dial.
We talked for a few minutes, but it was stilted and awkward. Once I was actually on the phone with her, all the things I had been planning to say sounded stupid or melodramatic.
I had wanted to tell Ariel that she was my best friend and that I didn’t know how I would have made it through the last year without her. I wanted to tell her that I hated the way she had been forced to become my whole support system when my parents threw in the towel. I wanted to tell her that my leaving town had nothing to do with her, that I was different now and trying to stay the same just made me feel more out of place. But I couldn’t say any of it. It was as if, by not talking about it, I thought I could pretend nothing had changed. Still, it had changed, and we both knew it. But neither of us wanted to admit it.
And Ariel’s own attempts to lighten the mood only made things worse. Her story about the wild party at Josh’s dad’s house reminded me of Paul and the way everything had fallen apart with us. Paul and Josh were best friends. Paul had broken up with me almost a year ago, right after my fifteenth birthday. That birthday party was the most depressing celebration ever. It had only been three months since my sister’s death, and I got totally smashed and lost my virginity to Paul. It was in no way the romantic earth-shattering first time I thought it would be. It was sloppy and uncomfortable, both physically and emotionally. Neither of us could remember it very clearly the next day, and I could tell Paul felt guilty—like he had taken advantage of me, even though I was the one who had initiated it, hoping it would make me feel better. Or not even better, just different. I wanted to feel anything besides loss and regret, but it only made everything worse. It was humiliating to barely be able to recall what was supposed to be such a pivotal experience in my life. And a few days later Paul dumped me. I never got a clear answer as to why, but I could tell he regretted that night almost as much as I did. He was just too much of a guy’s guy to say it.
Still, it was hard for me to blame our breakup solely on the sex thing. The first few weeks after my sister’s death were a dark, tangled blur, and then I became an emotional zombie. I had pushed everything away from me. My friends. My feelings. Paul. Luckily for me, Ariel had stuck it out. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to do the same for her.
My stomach was rumbling, and it wasn’t just from hunger. But eating would have to do, since I obviously wasn’t going to be able to fix things with Ariel anytime soon. I grabbed the map of the campus so I could find the cafeteria and left my room. When I was halfway down the hall, Ms. Moore’s door opened, and I could see the house mistress talking to someone who was still inside her room.
“Thanks again for this. I really appreciate all the extra work you’ve done—you’re a tremendous help to those kids you tutor.” Ms. Moore paused in the doorway, her back still to me. “You seem to have a knack for teaching—have you ever considered it as a career?”
“Probably not. I’m more comfortable in a lab with petri dishes than interacting with people.” The unknown girl’s laugh was light and sparkling. “And I’ve been dreaming of Harvard Medical School since kindergarten.” Her voice wasn’t completely recognizable, but somehow it still seemed oddly similar to—I tried to think—well, someone.
“The world’s gotta have cancer researchers, too.” Ms. Moore moved into the hall, and an attractive black-haired girl followed her out of the room.
Corinne. Now I knew why the voice had sounded familiar but off. The friendly, open way Corinne spoke to Ms. Moore didn’t even remotely resemble the tone she took with me.
Ms. Moore locked her door, then turned around. Spotting me, she gave a little wave. “I’ll see you girls later.”
As soon as she was gone, Corinne turned on me. “Well, well. If it isn’t Little Miss L.A.” Her expression made me think of a coiled snake ready to strike. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here,” I retorted. “Why aren’t you at home in Shadow Hills?”
“I’m dropping off some papers for Ms. Moore.” Corinne drew herself up to her full height, as if she didn’t already tower over me. “Besides, I belong here a hell of a lot more than you do, even if I don’t live in the dorms. Proximity isn’t what makes a Devenish student; merit is.”
“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for my badge,” I replied. “It should be arriving in the mail any day now.”
“I know you think you are just unbelievably cute and witty—but you’re no different from the rest of the boarding students.” Corinne’s gaze was so intense I wanted to look away, but I had no doubt that would give her some perverse satisfaction. “You’re an outsider, and that’s who you belong with. We’re a very tight-knit group, and we don’t like people coming in and screwing everything up.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Frustration bubbled up in me. “You don’t know me, and, news flash, I have absolutely no interest in trying to invade your snobby little group!”
“I’m not an idiot—I know Zach well enough to sense when something’s going on with him. And I think that something is you.” Corinne took a step closer to me, and before I could stop myself, I instinctively stepped back. “Zach doesn’t belong with you, and he knows it, so don’t even bother.” Corinne threw her long straight hair over her shoulder—narrowly avoiding hitting me in the face with it—and stalked out of the dorm.
There wasn’t time for me to think of a retort before the front door swung shut behind her.
Why in the world would Zach’s sister care so much about who he dated? What could possibly be so awful about a boarder and a townie hooking up? And if Corinne thought she’d deflected my interest in Zach, she was dead wrong. If anything, it was stronger.
I stepped outside and checked my map, before heading over to the cafeteria.
After some cereal and fruit, I went to the hospital for the second time. The museum area was easy to locate, what with all the si
gns pointing me toward it. The first thing that caught my eye when I walked in was a large metal table behind a glass enclosure. As I got closer to the display, I could see there were heavy-duty straps on the table. Restraints. I read the small information plaque on the glass. According to it, when the hospital was still an almshouse, it had been made of wood, and the only thing left of the original structure was a crude stone basement where they had housed the mentally ill. My chest felt tight as I thought back to the cell from my dreams.
I continued to the wall that showcased pictures of the Gene Research Wing being built. Below the photos were small artefacts that had been dug up during the renovations. A drawing of the almshouse as it had looked back in the 1700s showed a plain, shingled, boxy place. There was something dark and foreboding about it. I scanned a nearby plaque. Shadow Hills was founded in 1708 by a group of people from a town in Derbyshire, England. Apparently the village had grown during the following years to include Puritan settlers from neighboring towns, and they had built the almshouse for the large number of orphans and widows who had resulted from the battles between the early settlers and the Native American population.
But these little tidbits were not what I was looking for. I moved to the next wall. And there it was:
In 1736 an epidemic swept Shadow Hills, and the almshouse had a new responsibility: housing the sick and the dying. By 1737 almost three hundred people—roughly half of the town—had died from the mysterious disease. The cause of the epidemic was never determined, and the almshouse stood empty for years. Eventually, the structure was burned, possibly in an attempt to disinfect the area, and the almshouse was rebuilt in stone.
I moved to the next wall hanging, but the only information it offered was that the original town of Shadow Hills was where Devenish Preparatory School now stood. After the epidemic the townspeople had relocated to the area I’d been to yesterday and established a new cemetery.
Obviously, I had been right in my guess that it was an epidemic. But an epidemic of what? It was odd to me that there wasn’t more information about a disease that had killed so many people.
Turning to leave, I saw a sign in the corner of the room. It was labeled ANTIQUE MEDICAL EQUIPMENT and pointed at a staircase.
I followed the flight of steps down into a long room. Three sides of the room contained old operating tables, as well as some displays of really gruesome-looking instruments. On the side nearest me was a Plexiglas shield covering a large square of stone wall. The sign beside it stated that the cutaway showed the original structure of the almshouse basement.
I moved closer, drawn to the centuries-old wall. It was built of rough stones, natural, not cut, piled on top of one another and anchored by some sort of mortar, much of it long crumbled away. It reminded me of the cell wall from my dream yesterday and I felt suddenly sick. Drops of perspiration snaked down my back despite the fact that it was cold in the basement.
Way too cold.
The stones looked different now. The plastic shield was gone, and the rocks covered the whole wall. They were exposed—slick and damp, with bits of lichen clinging to them. My stomach cramped, like fingers biting into me and twisting. It was all I could do not to double over. Sweat broke out on my forehead.
I stumbled back and drew in a deep breath, closing my eyes. When I opened them again, the Plexiglas was back over the wall. The stones were dry, without lichen. Now I was seeing things while I was wide awake. I felt even worse.
My stomach lurched, and I glanced around, suddenly desperate to get out of the basement. There was a door between the surgical displays, and I rushed through it.
I emerged into a long hallway, sterile and white, with linoleum floors. It was a relief to find something so ordinary and hospital-looking, but I still felt light-headed. Little black dots danced at the edge of my vision, and I hurried down the corridor, looking for a place to sit. Most of the doors were closed, but I found one open. The room was full of supplies. Past the shelves was a chest-high wall, forming a little inner room, and in it I could see a rolling stool.
I went in and sank down on the stool, rolling out of sight behind the wall. I wrapped my arms tightly around my chest and closed my eyes, waiting for the shivering to stop.
After a few minutes, my heart slowed to a normal pace, and my stomach unclenched. I no longer felt as if I were going to faint or throw up. I was about to stand when I heard two men arguing in the hall. Their voices quickly grew louder, as if they were walking at a fast clip toward my hideout. I’d better wait here until they’re gone. No doubt I was someplace I wasn’t supposed to be, and I didn’t want to get chewed out by some pissed-off doctor.
But they didn’t keep going. They stopped right outside the open door to continue their fight.
“I saw what I saw. You are violat—”
“Would you keep it down?” the other one snapped. “Come in here.”
I heard the distinct click of the door swinging shut. They had closed themselves in the outer room. Great.
Now I was totally stuck. I scrunched down as far as I could into the corner.
“What do you think you’re doing?” one of them asked heatedly. “I can’t fathom why you’d endanger your position this way.”
“It won’t be endangered if you keep your mouth shut,” the other retorted bluntly.
“So now you’re saying I should lie for you?”
“Look … We’ve been friends for years, right?”
“Yeah, yeah. And Pam’s practically like a sister to you. But what you’re doing is foolish. You can’t consort with the Banished.”
Consort with the Banished? That sounded pretty biblical. My curiosity won out over my fear of discovery, and I inched up off the stool until I could see over the top of the wall. The supplies on the metal shelves in front of the wall hid me from the men’s sight, but they also obscured my view of the man closest to me. The other one I could see through a gap between the boxes. He was short and compact in an athletic way, with sandy brown hair and a nondescript face. Judging from the scowl and his stance, with his arms crossed over his chest, I figured he was the one doing the lecturing.
“I know what I’m doing,” the other one said.
“Yeah? What if you don’t? What if they get control of you? I’ve heard—”
“A lot of stories, that’s what you’ve heard. You don’t know anything for a fact, just the history that’s been handed down. How do we know it’s true?”
“It was handed down by men like your own father. And mine. Do you doubt them? If you let the Banished get into your head, they can twist your mind into something unrecognizable.”
The man hidden from me let out a derisive snort.
Mr. Nondescript plowed on, “You’re at the center of the research. You possess critical information. What if they’re after that?”
“They won’t get it,” the other one retorted. “Give me some credit.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s—”
“Them. I know, I know.” Hidden Guy’s tone of voice was beyond patronizing.
Apparently Mr. Nondescript didn’t appreciate this. I saw his face get red a second before he stepped forward, out of my sight. “I’m serious here. Our whole future is at stake. You need to tell the Council about this.”
The other one heaved a sigh. “Fine. I’ll talk to the Council. But give me a few days, okay? I need to get all my ducks in a row.” He paused, then added in more pleasant tone, “Come on, let’s go grab some coffee before you leave. Talk about something else for a while.”
The other man hesitated. “Okay,” he finally agreed.
I crouched down again. I certainly didn’t want them to spot me after the conversation I’d just heard. The door closed behind them, and I stood up slowly, cautiously peering over the wall.
What the hell was all that about?
Instead of finding answers about why Athena had wanted to come to Shadow Hills, I only had more questions.
Chapter Four
By the time I found my way out of the mazelike hospital corridors, it was after one, and Graham had texted me about meeting up for lunch. I didn’t see him in the cafeteria, but I was getting hungry, so I grabbed one of the prepackaged sandwiches and a salad.
After a few minutes, Graham slid into the seat across from me and tossed his sandwich down on the table.
“Hey, sorry that took so long. I got conned into taking some new kid on a tour of the campus, and he was asking about his advisor and classes, blah, blah, blah.”
“Advisor?” I questioned.
“Yeah, they’re like your own little life coach.” Graham’s tone was ironic. “You should have been assigned one. I think I wrote it down on your classes page.”
I pulled the maps and stuff out of my purse and found my schedule. Graham cocked his head so he could read it.
“It’s right there.” Graham pointed to the bottom of the page. “You got Sherwood; he’s cool, and it looks like you have photography with him, too. They do that a lot, pair you with someone who teaches an elective you picked. I guess they figure you’ll be more compatible.”
“So what exactly does your advisor do?”
“They oversee your academic life.” Graham took a bite of his BLT, then continued. “Keep your parents updated on how you’re doing, make sure your classes are going okay … Don’t worry about it. Advisor meetings are on Friday, so you have a whole week to get to know him in class. Plus, Sherwood’s about the best advisor you can get; he’s really laid back.”
We ate for a moment in silence, then I said, “So I was at the hospital today, and I saw this stuff about an epidemic in Shadow Hills. I also heard something about ‘the Banished.’ Do you know who that is?”
“A band maybe?” Graham shrugged.
“Probably not. Some old guys were talking about them. Do they ever mention the epidemic at Devenish? Like in history class or something?”
“Not that I know of. My friend Toy loves anything related to death or horror movies, and she used to be obsessed with this graveyard behind the hospital. But I think the only information she ever found on it was a list of townspeople who died.”
Shadow Hills Page 4