He raises his chin and then nods. “Yes. That’s what the demon, or whatever it is, looks like. You’ve seen it then?”
“We saw it in a haunted school on the Oregon Coast,” Dex says. “Scariest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
“But you’ve seen it lately,” Max says to me knowingly.
I glance quickly at Dex. “Yes. In the parking garage.”
“You said that could have been a raccoon!” he cries out.
“You said raccoon!” I tell him once again. “And anyway, that’s what it was. I, uh, I’ve seen it somewhere else too.”
“Where?” Dex asks.
“In a restaurant.”
“A restaurant?” he and Maximus repeat together.
“Shucks,” Maximus adds. “That’d be one hell of a Yelp review.”
Dex reaches out and grabs my arm, eyes frantic. “Why didn’t you tell me this? What restaurant? When?”
“When Rebecca and I went out for lunch with Lucinda,” I say guiltily. “I saw the same woman we saw in the bathtub. I couldn’t see her face, but I just know it was her. She had this thing on a leash—it was under the table. I couldn’t see it properly, but I saw the tail. I knew. And Lucinda called it a monster.”
“Lucinda saw it?” Dex cries out incredulously. “Did Rebecca?”
I shake my head. “No. And it quickly disappeared.” I know Dex is seething, I can feel the anger rolling off of him. I keep going. “And then I saw her in the ocean, at Cannon Beach. I remember now. It was her. I was, like, compelled or something. It was Samantha.”
“Fuck,” Dex swears, throwing the camera down on the leather couch, his hands going into his hair as he turns around and walks away from me. “All this fucking time and you didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t want you to worry,” I plead.
“I am your husband!” he roars, whipping around and storming back over to me, finger in my face. “It’s my job to worry about you! It’s what I do!”
“Now I don’t want to get in the middle of a marital spat here,” Max says softly. “But the more of this energy you bring into this place, the more this place will feed off of it.”
Dex closes his eyes, breathing hard. Then he turns and plops down on the couch next to the camera, trying to work through what I did.
Max gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m glad you told us. From what it sounds like, she hasn’t hurt you out there.” He gestures to the windows. “I think this house works the same way on her. Being a witch, she can probably project or manifest herself better than I can. But her real power lies in the house. You’re seeing her because she wants you here, wants to talk to you. Wants something from you, anyway.”
“Always Miss Popular,” I mutter.
“Or maybe she’s just fucking with you,” he adds. “I don’t know. I think you should keep future visits brief.”
“We have to come back for you,” I tell him. “Just tell us what we need to do to get you out.”
He exhales and runs his hand through his hair, pressing his lips together for a moment. “I thought, with the two of you, perhaps that would do it. But I don’t think so, and I don’t feel like trying tonight. Maybe come back again, when you’re both calmer. We need that calm energy. Forget about the witch for now. Just come back, and come straight here. You’ll be safe.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“I have another person up my sleeve,” he says, looking forlorn. “Though I’m not sure where she is, or how she’s doing, or if she’d even want to come up here to see me.”
“Rose,” I whisper.
Maximus’s ex-girlfriend who seemed to be turning back into a girlfriend right around the time he died. I’d been in contact with Rose after his funeral in New York, but she didn’t want anything to do with either Dex or me. She was so distraught, and she blamed us for his death. Which was more or less true.
Max nods. “If you could reach out…”
That wasn’t going to be easy, but I’d be willing to give it a shot.
“Of course,” I tell him.
Max gets to his feet. “Now, I hate to kick out my houseguests, but I really think you both oughta leave now while you have a chance.”
“While we have a chance?” Dex repeats, his voice low, his face sullen, doing all he can to avoid looking at me.
“Follow me. I’ll be your escort,” Max says, heading for the door.
“Dex,” I whisper, coming over to him, putting my hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t.” He whips his arm away, his eyes a raging storm, angry and hurt. “I’m fucking mad at you.”
“Easy now,” Max reminds us, just as he opens the door. “Stay calm.”
Shit. I knew keeping things from Dex was going to hurt me, I just didn’t think he’d take it this bad. I’ve always kind of been like this, but then again, everyone has their breaking point. Perhaps tonight is ours.
I follow Maximus and Dex out of the room and up the stairs, my heart feeling heavier by the minute.
We make it to the front door without any incidents, and leave Maximus inside, giving us a quick wave goodbye before the door closes.
Dex and I walk in silence through the drizzle back to the Highlander.
It’s a painfully awkward car ride home.
Thirteen
Dex is still mad at me.
Even though I’ve just woken up, I can already tell. His animosity sits in the bedroom like lingering smoke.
Plus when I roll over, he’s not in bed beside me. Usually I’m up first, and I didn’t even sleep in this morning.
I sigh and roll back over, staring up at the ceiling and composing my thoughts.
When we got back to the apartment last night, I tried in vain to apologize for keeping things from him, not just about Maximus, but about Samantha, too. But he wouldn’t hear any of it. Dex is a force to be reckoned with when he’s angry. It doesn’t happen very often, but when it does, those storm clouds roll in, and he can be brutal. He doesn’t yell unless you provoke him, but he does turn inward and seethes and simmers on all fiery cylinders.
Suffice it to say, my apologies weren’t taken. We went to bed in a fight, which I fucking hate. And now, even though the morning usually has a way of making things seem brighter and lighter, I can tell that nothing has changed. He’s just as angry as before, so much so that he didn’t want to spend a second longer in bed with me than he had to.
Honestly, I feel sick. My stomach is in knots right now, my heart physically aching in my chest. I was already feeling like this thanks to Ada, but now I’m on a whole other level.
I sit up, clutching the covers to me, listening for Dex in the kitchen. It’s dead quiet. Maybe he left.
That thought makes me feel sick too.
Regardless, I know what I have to do today. I need to call my gynecologist and make an appointment to get my IUD out, I have to try and contact Rose, and I’m going to try and go to my morning spin class. It’s within walking distance, and if I skip my coffee and get going right now, I’ll make it.
I get up, slipping on my pajama pants, and step out into the apartment. I go to the bathroom, and when I get out, I nearly jump out of my skin when I see Dex sitting on the couch with Fat Rabbit in his lap, drinking a coffee from his favorite mug.
He doesn’t turn to look at me, even though the dog does, and I can’t help but feel he’s trying to turn the pooch against me.
I could be petty. I could pull the, you’re angry at me so now I’m angry at you bullshit, because I’m really good at that. But I don’t want to add fuel to the fire—I just want him to talk to me.
“I’m going to go to spin class,” I tell him, clearing my throat. “I’m running a bit late. I’ll call Rose after.”
Silence. I couldn’t feel more awkward. The chill coming off of him is punishing.
He takes a sip of his coffee but still doesn’t look at me. “Sounds good. I’ll get in touch with either Harry or Atlas. One of them will have to give u
s answers.”
“Okay,” I say, my voice faint.
I hurry back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind me, and exhale deeply. Have I mentioned how much I hate fighting with him?
I quickly get dressed in my yoga pants, sports bra, t-shirt, and sneakers, grabbing my water bottle from the dresser and phone from the charger. I pull my hair into a ponytail and then head to the door, slipping on my black puffy coat that makes me feel like a goth marshmallow. “Text me if you need me to pick up anything,” I call out to him.
He just raises his hand as way of saying goodbye.
Ugh.
I leave the apartment feeling like shit, hoping that the five-minute walk and forty-five minute class will get my endorphins up. I try to go spinning twice a week, even though I know I should be doing more, but I figure it’s better than nothing. I’m not as obsessed about my weight as I once was, and I have Dex to thank for that since he’s crazy attracted to me no matter what I look like it seems (plus I’m not about to give up my ass and boobs just so I can fit into a size eight), but I still like to keep in shape for a whole range of reasons.
One of the best reasons is because it turns off my brain, lets my mind go completely and utterly blank.
I get on the bike near the back of the classroom, giving a shy nod to the rest of the regulars who ride this class as everyone takes their usual spots. After the first five minutes of the warm up, I think about everything, from my body, to how I look on the bike, to Dex, to Maximus, to Rose, to the baby, to Ada, to everything about Samantha Poe. I replay scenes in my mind, over and over again, overanalyzing everything.
And then, after five minutes, when things kick into high gear and the resistance and cadence goes up, and I feel sweat on my forehead start to break out, I stop replaying the scenes.
I stop thinking.
I go blank.
It’s fucking bliss.
Except it’s also not, because my legs are strained and my lungs are burning and I’m gasping for breath and I’m so damn hot and sweaty that I feel like I’m being smothered. All my thoughts are replaced with feelings. Not emotional ones but feelings from my body. That’s all I can focus on.
By the time spin class is over and I’m exhausted, I’m still unable to think about much of anything. I’m just a blank space. I’ve got endorphins flowing through me and I’m calm. I know there’s shit going on in my life right now that should get me upset, but my brain literally won’t entertain it.
Perry isn’t here right now.
I head into the rest of the gym and lift some free weights. It’s almost empty in here, as it usually is on weekday mid-mornings, which is why I like it. I can do my workout without men lecturing me on my weight-training or feeling out of place.
When I’ve done enough squats and lifts, and those endorphins fade and I start thinking about what a shitshow my life is at the moment, I head to the locker room to shower.
I’m big on privacy (I mean, I get changed in the locked washroom stall), so locker rooms aren’t my favorite place, but they have private showers here, and at this time of day no one is here anyway.
Case in point, when I step inside, the place is empty. I use the toilet and then go to my locker where I shoved my marshmallow coat and phone. It takes me a bit to get the key in the lock, and I have to stop and look at it to make sure I’m actually at the right locker and not someone else’s.
I try again, and this time it clicks open with ease. I’m about to open it when I swear I sense someone walk past me from behind.
I turn around, expecting to have missed someone in the washroom, but there’s no one there. Good.
I know it’s silly to think that Dex may have texted me while I was doing my spin, but I check my phone anyway. There’s nothing, of course, and my heart sinks a little. I’m not really in a rush to go home and get the deep freeze, and I feel gross, so I put my phone back, lock it up again, and then grab a freshly laundered towel from the rack in the corner.
Tucking the ends of my hair under my elastic band, I head into the shower stall, locking the door behind me. I wish I brought a change of clothes but I was obviously not thinking properly earlier. At least the walk home is short. I want nothing more than to crawl into comfy pajamas and curl up under the covers, waiting for Dex to defrost.
I quickly strip and then turn on the water, doing that awkward waiting thing, shivering just out of the spray while the water slowly heats up. While I don’t wear a ton of makeup, I’m actually pretty vain about my hair, so I refuse to wash it here considering the shampoo and conditioner they provide is pretty awful and leaves your strands like straw.
Finally the water gets warm enough and I get under the stream, careful not to get my hair wet.
Over the sound of the shower, I hear the door to the locker room swing open.
But I don’t hear anyone walk inside.
Odd.
Maybe it was a janitor checking to see if someone was in here.
I go back to showering, pumping some shower gel into my hand, when I hear the stall door next to me open and then lock. The person has quiet footsteps. Of course, there are four shower stalls in a row, so I don’t know why they had to pick the one next to me.
They turn on the shower, the hiss of their water joining mine, and I start rinsing the soap off of me, watching the suds go down the drain, round and round.
Blood red water flows across from under the stall, almost touching my toes.
I flinch, instinctively backing up against the wall.
For a second I think I might be bleeding, though I won’t have my period for another week, then I realize the blood is coming from the other shower.
I try not to feel disgusted—maybe she has her period—but there is a pretty decent depression in each stall, so there’s no way the water could flow over to me unless their drain is clogged.
And as that thought goes through my mind, I watch as more blood flows over from the other stall.
I gasp and quickly step out of the water, avoiding it just in time, my heart pounding so hard it’s shaking me.
“Are you okay?” I ask the person, my voice echoing in the room.
I listen, but all I hear is the shower running and all I see is the red flowing over from the space underneath the stall, going down my drain.
Oh my god, this isn’t good. What if they really hurt themselves?
“Hello?” I ask.
I’m about to crouch down and look to see through the gap when suddenly a pair of feet appear at the side of the stall, facing my direction.
I stare at the feet for a moment, the sense of dread inside me deepening. The feet are familiar to me somehow, ghostly white with black cracks in the skin, broken toenails. Blood runs down the legs in never ending rivers.
Then one foot disappears.
Then the other.
The metal on the side of the stall pops out, as if someone is pushing on the other side.
I automatically look up to the top of the stall, just in time to see a long white arm reaching over the top and the tip of a black head rising, about to pull itself over.
I scream.
I scream bloody murder and turn on a dime, nearly slipping on the slick floor, my hands flying to the stall door lock.
It won’t open. It won’t unlock.
Of fucking course it won’t!
“Help!” I scream, trying desperately to open the door, banging on it, trying to rip it off the hinges. “Please, someone help me!”
I hear a wet thump behind me.
She’s in the stall with me now.
The water splashes.
There’s cold breath at the back my neck.
I won’t turn around.
I won’t turn around.
Finally, I hear the door to the locker room swing open, footsteps, shouts, and then a woman is pulling the door open and I nearly fall out into her arms, totally naked.
“What happened?” she asks, holding on to me. “Oh dear me.”
But
I can’t even form words. Even if I could, it would do me no good to tell the truth.
Because when I look back at the shower, everything is normal, the door slowly swinging shut.
The water is running.
There’s no Samantha Poe.
And there is no blood.
But I know what I saw.
“I…” I say eventually, my panic mixing with embarrassment as another gym member steps into the room, eyeing me with concern. I manage a fake smile. “I’m so sorry. I have panic attacks. The door wouldn’t open…”
“That’s okay, honey,” the woman holding me says, her voice warm. She gives the other girl a look that says I got this so that the other girl leaves.
But I don’t got this.
I’m going fucking insane. I’m totally wet and naked, being held by a stranger.
Somehow I manage to pull myself together, giving her an embarrassed smile, though the fear is still lingering beneath the surface. I don’t want the woman to leave me alone in here either.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her. “I didn’t mean to scream.” I glance back at the stall door, which has closed itself again. “I hate to ask, but do you mind retrieving my clothes?” I point feebly at the shower. I can’t go back in there.
“Of course, honey,” she says.
I sit down on the bench closest, awkwardly covering myself up with my legs and arms, until she hands me my clothes. “Do you mind waiting until I get changed?” I then ask. I feel so pathetic doing so, but I can’t stand to be alone right now.
She nods and turns her back to me, giving me privacy while I quickly get my gym clothes on, slipping on my shoes. Then I fight with the lock again, tears of frustration and everything else building behind my eyes.
The woman comes over to me, calmly unlocks it, and pulls out my coat.
I quickly slip it on and try to give her a brave smile.
“You need a ride home? Someone to come get you?” she asks me.
I shake my head. “It’s a short walk. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” she says slowly. “You take it easy now, you hear?”
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