I bite the inside of my cheek at the pain in his voice. It makes me wonder when he found time to grieve for his sister if he was chasing away his mom’s imaginary ghosts the whole summer. “And if Reagan was a demon?”
Ian’s blue eyes bore into mine. “Then neither of us would be going back down there.” He takes the saltshaker from the table and pockets it. “Salt can’t get rid of demons, but it’s supposed to send ghosts to the other side. It’s pure. It’s from the earth, just as ghosts’ human forms once were. But ghosts aren’t from the earth. They can’t handle salt’s purity.”
“It’s supposed to send them to the other side.” This is crazy. All of it. How can this even work? But I don’t have a better idea, so this has to work for Tri’s sake. A well-loved toy mouse sits on the end of the counter next to the microwave, exactly where Tri left it. I press my lips together. “Ready?”
He turns the flashlight off and on, then swallows. “Ready.”
We dart back out into the storm. The wind jackknifes into me as I quickly lock the door. It presses me sideways, urging me toward the laundry room and Tri. My hand tucked in Ian’s, we run. The rain follows the wind and stings my head and back. We slip down the stairs, the metal crisscrosses too soaked to provide any traction.
I open the laundry room door, and Ian enters first. The flashlight beam jabs through the darkness onto the open cupboard below. We slowly descend the stairs while he shines the light in the deepest corners of the basement. My stomach clenches with each step, with each shadow the beam shines through. There’s no sign of Tri or the girl.
“Tri?” I whisper. Silence except for the low hum and rattle of the dryers.
We reach the bottom of the stairs, and I step toward the open cupboard. Our shoes crunch over the glass from the broken lightbulb. Broken shards catch the flashlight beam in winks.
Ian hands the light to me and steps toward the dryers. A chill breezes over my fingertips as I reach for one of the top boxes inside the cupboard. It’s heavier than I expect, so I set the flashlight on the bottom ledge, right where the girl’s hand was when she started to climb out through the boxes. Shivers flash across my back at the memory. I tug at the box with both hands and drop it to the ground. Behind that box is another box. How deep does this cupboard go?
“Tri? Are you in there?” Nothing. A strangled sob pushes through the knot in my throat.
Ian roots through the clothes in his dryer, then holds a sweatshirt out to me. “You’ll catch cold down here in your wet clothes. Put this on.”
I take it since I think I’ll be able to unload the cupboard faster if I can stop shaking. The fabric is almost hot and it brings feeling back into my fingers so I can move them again. I hurry into the sweatshirt.
Ian shrugs into one, too, and then helps me fling out boxes. Clouds of dust roll up and cling to the tears and rain on my face. The back wall appears. Just a few more boxes left.
The tip of my nose is numb and my fingertips ache with cold. Ian slides the last box out of the cupboard. Something cracks inside when it lands on the concrete. I grab the flashlight, sit on the ledge, and swing myself inside the cupboard feet first.
Ian climbs in with me. I have to smash myself against the side to allow him room. The flashlight carves deep shadows all over his face, but I can tell he’s looking at me in the confined space.
Without a word, we both kick at the far wall. I slam my feet against it with everything I have. We soon punch through into nothingness.
Arctic air gusts over my body. I gasp as the chill seeps over my skin and stitches ice into my lungs.
“Ah, that’s cold.” Ian adjusts his position and aims the flashlight through the hole.
I climb out of the cupboard and back in again headfirst so I can see out, too. Dust hovers in the air so thick I can taste it. A foot ahead is a brick wall covered in a maze of pipes, one of which leaks a steady dribble. The wall stretches several yards right and left, but the light can’t penetrate the darkness above. It’s a black hole up there, eating everything that touches it.
“What is this place?” I ask.
Each shaky breath through Ian’s blue lips clouds the air. “Some kind of tunnel m-maybe?”
I poke my head through the hole. “T-Tri?” My teeth chatter so loud, the sound bounces off the brick wall. A meow from above answers me. That single sound rushes relief to my heart. He’s still alive. Tears spring into my eyes as I back my head through the hole. “Did you hear that?” I ask, just to be sure I didn’t imagine it.
“I heard him. We’ve got to get him away from her.” He wraps an arm around me, his whole body trembling. His other hand fishes for the salt in his pocket.
I tuck myself under his chin and shiver uncontrollably. “Why is it so cold?”
“It’s her,” he breathes into my hair. He tilts the saltshaker so it pours into his trembling hand. Some sifts through his fingers and lands just inside the hole. He makes a fist over the grains left in his palm. “Now we wait for her to come.”
I lean out of the hole and shine the beam upward into the tunnel. Complete darkness hovers above. The pipe drips. My heart pounds. I look at Ian. “Give me some—” Winter brushes against my fingers on the edges of the hole. I jerk back and scoot away.
Ian’s jaw pulses. He clenches his fist and inches closer to the hole.
The girl appears instantly in front of the brick wall. She flashes an arm out and snatches Ian by the neck. She rips him from the cupboard, and he vanishes out of the hole without a sound. One of his boots teeters on the jagged edges of the broken wall, then falls over in front of the pipes with a heavy thud.
“Ian!” I shine the light upward into the black hole. “Tri!” Silence. Nothing answers. Not even a meow. “No.” A deep, bone-quaking shudder rolls through me. The beam skips over the brick wall and bounces all over the empty cupboard when I lean back inside.
They’re gone. They’re both gone. I’m all alone. I squeeze my eyes shut and then open them again, but the cupboard is still empty. It really happened. My breaths come too fast, too loud. I think I might pass out.
I collapse against the wall of the cupboard and shine the light on the ceiling with both hands. The bright spot helps me focus. Salt. I need more salt. I touch the dusting of it below the hole and pinch a few grains between my fingers.
A burst of chilly wind rushes through the hole. Icy fingers grip my neck. They drag me forward to the hole, face to face with the ghost. Her milky blue eyes are cold and murderous. The flashlight drops from my hand and rocks its beam in wild arcs around the cupboard. She squeezes, crushing the air from my lungs. I claw at her hand, try to peel it off. Salt grains wedged under my fingernails rub over her stone cold skin.
Her grip falters, but I still can’t breathe. Her gaze drops to her hand around my throat. Black veins sizzle over her skin, up her arm, and to her neck. It sounds like she’s baking.
“Alexis!” Ian calls from above.
White spots burst behind my eyes. I want to answer, but I can’t. My lungs blaze with need.
Tiny snowflakes fall on the girl’s head. They burn into her face until one of her eyes sags halfway down her cheek. She shoves me back into the cupboard and vanishes.
I drag in one breath before I topple out of the cupboard and crack my head on the concrete floor.
…
I don’t know how long I’m out. Seconds, minutes, hours, it’s all too long. Ian and Tri need me. I could never abandon them. I prop myself up on one arm. The basement sways and pitches my stomach’s contents dangerously close to my mouth. I take several deep breaths and touch the back of my head. There’s a massive bump back there, and my fingers come away bloody. But I’m alive. My throat feels cracked and raw, but I’m breathing.
Posting my arms underneath me, I stumble to my feet. The flashlight is behind one of the boxes littering the floor. Its glow is as bright as ever, so I must not have been out too long. I take one step at a time up the stairs since each one drives a spike through my head
.
Outside, the sharp wind and pelting rain help clear the cobwebs from my brain. I need salt. A lot of it. When I have it in my hand, I’m going to ram it down ghost bitch’s throat.
I drag myself up the second set of stairs to my apartment, hissing through my teeth at the pain gnawing at my head. Lightning forks across the sky and illuminates just how dark it is. All the lights in the apartment building have gone out.
Thunder booms a warning when I reach number twenty-six. I plug my key into the lock. It’s quiet inside except for the drops of rain falling from me to the carpet and my heart jumping inside my chest. I flick the light switch just in case the power outage will somehow not affect me. Nothing happens. I sweep the flashlight beam over every dark corner, and then I take a step forward.
Something creaks, long and loud from the kitchen. My breaths scrape along my raw throat and fog the chilled air. Reagan’s here, waiting. I can feel it.
I bare my teeth like some crazed animal and turn the corner. She’s slinking out of the cupboard on all fours. She stops when she sees me with the melted eye that’s now almost to her chin.
The big container of salt is in the cupboard to the left of the sink. I set the flashlight on the counter so the beam casts over her. Her freaky eye squints into the light, and she crouches low behind the cupboard door, ready to spring.
I scratch my nails against my palms and swallow. The salt is on the second shelf, buried behind other spices because the container is so big. I can see its exact location in my head. Thunder rumbles through the walls and floor and charges urgency through my gut. I lick my lips, and then I rush forward.
The ghost jumps from her crouch at the same time. She’s fast. I’m faster. Maybe the salt has already weakened her. I open the cupboard and knock everything over in my hurry. My fingers grasp the salt just as hers slide around my neck. Her glacial touch needles my skin. She clamps my windpipe shut and drags me toward the cupboard. I fumble to get the container open. It slips from my fingers, but I shift my body at the last second to wedge it between me and the counter.
She locks her other hand around my throat, still pulling me forward. Alarm bells sound in my head. My chest burns. The edges of my vision start to dim. My throat makes a ticking sound as though it’s marking my final seconds.
The salt opens. I jerk the container toward her face so a stream hits her other eye. It drips down the side, but it’s not quite even with the other. She releases me and I crumble to the floor, dragging in air. The black veins webbing her gray skin branch off again and again until they cover her entire body. They even trace under the thin fabric of her dingy dress. She takes a step back toward the cupboard.
Between gulps for more air, I fling salt at her. It sprays her whole body. A rotten, sulfur smell punches into my stomach. I swallow a gag and crawl forward to shoot more salt at her. Black veins crack through her melted eyes. She throws her head back in a silent scream, then vanishes.
I crush the salt to my chest and lean against a lower cupboard. My heart knocks against my ribs, beating on the wood behind me.
A low moan sounds from the open cupboard, deep and familiar.
“Ian?” I crawl forward. Grains of salt stick to my palms. It’s all over the tiles.
Ian climbs out of the cupboard and collapses on the floor. The hole in the wall seals itself up as he pulls his feet through. Deep cuts mark his face and arms, and his sweatshirt and jeans are covered in rips and holes. Tri perches on his chest and licks his eyelids. I bury my face in Tri’s side and inhale his sweet scent. His loud purr rumbles his chest. Relief swells through mine.
I touch the side of Ian’s face. “Are you okay?” My voice sounds scratchy, as though I’ve swallowed claws.
“I think so.” He groans. “Why’s Tri licking my eyelids?”
I bark out a laugh that ends in a sob. “Because you’re both alive.”
“He wedged himself behind the pipes so far, I don’t think even a ghost could’ve gotten him. I wiggled my fingers at him and he came right out, though.” Ian sets the small saltshaker gripped in his fist down to glide his fingers over Tri’s head, and Tri stops his licking to lean into his touch. “This isn’t comfortable, kitty.”
“Okay.” I pluck Tri off him and help ease Ian into a sitting position next to the cupboard. “Better?”
“Better.” He runs his hands down his face and winces as his fingers meet the scratches. The open cupboard door blocks some of the glow from the flashlight and paints his face with shadows. “She gone?”
“She’s gone. I mean, I guess. I’ve never done that before.” But I do think she’s gone. The heavy feeling of dread doesn’t press in on me, and Tri isn’t hissing anymore. She has to be gone. I collapse next to Ian, careful not to brush too hard against his cuts, and suck in a long breath. Tri tucks his paws underneath him so he looks like a kitty loaf and gazes at Ian and me. I swear there’s a little smile under that Hitler mustache. “Salt. I never would’ve guessed.”
Ian studies his feet, one booted and the other socked. “You don’t remember the yellow bubbles in our chemistry books? The ones on the side of the text about chemists’ weird quirks and folklore about different elements?”
“Kind of.” I never paid attention to those bubbles. I was too busy cramming the things I knew would be on the test into my head.
“There was one in the chapter about sodium. It had to do with sodium chloride and ghosts. Whenever Tri started hissing back there, I’d just fling some out and hope I hit her.” He nods at the saltshaker beside him.
I look up at the set of his jaw, at the curl of his dark eyelashes. “Did you get an A in chemistry?”
“Nope. A C-plus. And I blame you for that, by the way.”
“Me?” I raise my eyebrows, all innocent-like. “What did I do?”
He holds me closer and rests his forehead on mine. “You’re too distracting.” His breath tickles my ear.
My body warms. In a crazy way, sitting on the kitchen floor in the near-dark during a thunderstorm with Ian is almost romantic. If it weren’t for Reagan getting uncomfortably close to killing us, it would be romantic. I lean in closer, my mouth just inches from his. “I could say the same about you.”
“You could, huh?” His smile drips into his voice, making it huskier, sexier. He plays with the bottom hem of my sweatshirt, scrunching it between his fingers so his knuckles graze my side. The skin-on-skin contact quickens my breaths. His gaze dips to my mouth, and he skims his tongue over his lower lip. “My clothes look good on you.”
“I know.” I slide a hand up over his holey sweatshirt and across the curves of his muscles. His heart leaps against my palm. Something builds inside my body, a throbbing for him to touch the deepest part of me. He’s making it so easy to forget all my abandonment issues and just go for it. But a lingering doubt still weighs heavily on my heart. Can I handle it if something goes wrong between us? Is it possible to blur the line between crazy cat lady and normal girlfriend?
The lights click back on with a short buzz. Ian grins, and his electric blue eyes brighten. My heart stutters. Jeez, he’s pretty.
“There you are.” His grin slips into a frown, and his forehead creases. “Is that blood on your neck? Are you bleeding?”
“I cracked my head in the laundry room. But it’s nothing.”
“Let me see.” He pulls away to examine my head.
I try not to wince even though his touch is gentle.
“That’s a massive bump you got there. You might have a concussion,” he says. “We should get you to the hospital to be sure.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Just…stay with me. If I’m seeing double in the morning, I’ll go to the hospital. I promise.”
“Okay. If you say so.” His eyebrows are still bunched together, though. He takes my hands in his and pulls me to my feet. “Let’s at least get you cleaned up.”
I nod and glance at the hills of salt on the linoleum. The overhead glow casts a new light over my kitchen, accentuatin
g the scuffmarks along the floor and the rows of cupboards lining both walls.
There’s no way I can stay here. Classes start soon, and I could never leave Tri alone, not after what’s happened. Not in a place haunted by ghosts, even with salt in every cupboard. It creeps me out enough to be living in the same place as a killer and where three people, almost five and a cat, died.
Ian cups a palm around my cheek. He searches my eyes so deeply, it feels like he’s memorizing my soul, like he knows exactly what I’ve been thinking. “Stay at my place. I’ll take the couch and you can have the bed, just until you find a place of your own.”
“Really?” I flutter a hand to my throat at the mousy squeak in my voice.
“Yeah. Really.”
“Tri, too?”
He wriggles his fingers at Tri, who watches them with big green eyes. “Tri, too.”
Whoa. Staying with Ian. That’s quite a leap, but he’s only trying to be helpful. He’s not asking me to move in with him or anything. “Well…” I have to do this for Tri, because where else is he going to stay? Dropping him off somewhere isn’t an option. “I’ll take the couch.”
“Whatever you want.” Ian pulls his palm away from my cheek, a smile playing across his mouth.
“Let me just grab a few things first?” But before I do, I open the salt container, my gaze bouncing from cupboard to cupboard, and toss some inside all of them. When I finish, Ian tilts his head at me, a quizzical look on his face. “Just in case,” I say, then I hurry down the hallway to throw a few things in a bag.
Once Tri is bundled inside his cat carrier and I’ve triple-checked to see I have all his and my necessities, the three of us head to Ian’s place. A light sprinkle plops on the raincoat draped over Tri’s carrier and ripples the many puddles at our feet. The night smells as if it’s been washed clean of its horrors. I breathe deep.
Number twelve is on the ground floor. It’s bare except for a few boxes, a couch, and his guitar case propped in a corner of the living room. He’s right—my apartment is just like his. He sets Tri’s litter box in a closet off the kitchen while I set Tri free.
Haunted Chemistry Page 3