GABE LEANED FORWARD. “You never believed Verna that Mason just up and left Slade.”
“No. I didn’t,” Elyse answered.
“So, then, what happened to him?”
Her eyes flicked back and forth, as if she were searching for an answer written on the ceiling.
“Did he stay in those woods?” Gabe went on. “Did he grow up there, hiding out?” These questions were bizarre, he knew. But not impossible. “What if Mason is the one who’s been watching from the shadows.” What if there was no monster, no magic, no conjuration from the burned journal of an adolescent boy, but merely Leesy Temple’s old friend. In the flesh. Out there in the woods. A man who’d lived in the forest for years and years, teaching himself how to survive, learning the land better than anyone in Slade.
In Elyse’s eyes, Gabe saw the girl she’d once been, that quiet girl in the cafeteria who’d taught herself to stare at clouds and see things in them that others could not. He was suddenly certain she believed, somehow, that he may be right. So when she shook her head no, it felt to Gabe like a sharp poke in the chest.
Elyse reached into the deep pocket of her robe and removed several small black notebooks. With a slight tremor, she laid them on the bed, opening their covers so Gabe could see inside. Dark pencil drawings filled every page. She’d written dates for each of them, going back several years. He looked closer and recognized the images she captured. Every page, every drawing, the shadow within shadows, the shape that had watched him from the darkness of the woods. The similarities between these sketches and the drawing she’d done for the Olmstead book were unmistakable. This was Mason Arngrim’s Hunter.
“I started these books almost as soon as I came back to Slade,” she said. “At first, I didn’t know why, or where the ideas were coming from. But then I realized. Every time I looked out over the forest toward that old barn at the bottom of the hill, I remembered him.”
What his grandmother had collected on these pages was not simply her newest project, but a strange compulsion, a record of a lingering hurt. She’d told him the story of her past in order to make him see how it was affecting his present. Mason. His tales. Her drawings. Dots that, when connected, made a bigger picture. And now the picture was becoming clear.
“If you never believed that Mason left Slade,” Gabe whispered, “then what happened to him?”
“In my heart of hearts, Gabriel, I never thought Mason survived that storm.”
“And these,” he said, his hand hovering over the notebooks, “what do they say to your heart?”
Elyse stood. “I suppose they say that I’m right. That we’re right. We’ve both seen something out there. Who knows what it is or how long it’s been around?” She shook her head, as if astonished at herself for thinking it. “I wonder if Mason had seen the ‘something’ himself. And if so, had this thing inspired Mason to write in the same way it inspired me to fill these pages?” She nodded at the books.
“I’ve wondered for ages what happened to Mason that night. I’d heard him tell Verna that the Hunter had killed her bird. Of course she’d scoffed. But what if he’d told the truth? And worse…what if Mason encountered his monster when he ran off into the woods?”
Gabe suddenly felt very small. “Y-you believe the Hunter is real too?”
“Funny. When I was a younger woman, I might have seen a priest or a doctor for even considering something like that. But after I started working with Nathaniel Olmstead, I saw things differently. When I was hired to illustrate his first book cover, people whispered to me that he was crazy, that he believed the monsters in his books were real. I figured he’d constructed the rumors to market himself, but the closer we became, I realized that he really did believe.”
“Mr. Olmstead told you that monsters lived in his town?” Gabe asked.
“Oh yes,” said Elyse. “And he was scared of them too. He never actively tried to convince me, but once, I discovered a note shoved between a few loose manuscript pages he’d sent me. It was a list of seemingly unrelated items, and at first, I thought he’d accidentally tucked in his grocery list. I reread the note several times before I understood its meaning. The items were all from his books. They were what his characters had used to defeat his monsters. Chicken bones, wind chimes, marbles. Little talismans like that.”
Gabe thought of the library downstairs, packed with strange objects. He wondered if she’d begun the collection before or after reading the note.
“What gave me chills, though, was the postscript I discovered scrawled on the back of the page. It read something like, Keep these at home. For emergencies only. When I asked him about it, he only smiled mysteriously and questioned me about whether I’d collected the items.”
“And did you?” Gabe asked. “Collect them?”
“I did,” Elyse answered.
“Did you ever need them? For an emergency?”
Elyse smiled. “Thankfully, no,” she said, “not yet.” Glancing at the small clock sitting on the nightstand, she looked surprised. “Oh my. I think it’s about time we get some shut-eye. You’ve got school tomorrow.”
Gabe flinched. “After everything you just told me, I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep.”
“If that’s true, please don’t tell your parents on me.” She gathered up her notebooks and shoved them into her pocket.
Before she opened his bedroom door, Gabe sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He almost asked her to stay with him. “What do I do now?” he asked.
She turned the knob and pushed carefully, familiar with the room’s squeaks and squeals. “For starters, you can stay out of those woods.”
“And for finishers?”
Elyse blinked, her eyes filled with concern. “I’ll have to give that some thought,” she said. “You do the same. I’m sure we can figure this out.”
Gabe wished he could agree.
GABE ARRIVED AT SCHOOL in a daze, his grandmother’s story stuck in his mind. He’d never imagined that her past had contained such horror. At his locker, he stretched and groaned. His backpack was heavier than usual. Bending down, he unzipped the top pocket and removed the Olmstead and Ashe book. He shoved it quickly into his locker. Next he found Mazzy, who was at the water fountain near the gymnasium. He asked if she could meet with him after school. When she asked him if there was something wrong, he shook his head and promised to tell her everything later. “This’ll be between us,” he said, and after a pause added, “plus one other person.”
Gabe tried to focus on his classes, but throughout the day, the shadowy sketches from his grandmother’s black notebooks appeared in Gabe’s mind. These were followed immediately by visions of the figure by the woods—the dark man with eyes of icy flame.
He skipped lunch in the cafeteria with Felicia, Malcolm, and Ingrid, opting instead to hide out in the library. Since they’d laughed at his suggestion that they were all being haunted or hunted by something not human, he knew they’d never understand the story of Mason and Leesy, or where the Hunter’s game had truly begun.
Minutes after the last bell, he met Mazzy outside the wood shop classroom door. From there, they slipped out the side door and bolted for the driveway. Mazzy assured Gabe that she’d seen Felicia and the others heading to the auditorium for the PTA’s showing of Frankenweenie, but as he ran, his bag heavy again with Elyse’s book, Gabe glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one followed.
“I heard people say they saw it again last night,” Mazzy said, when they crossed the street from the school. “The figure. I didn’t. Did you?”
“Sort of,” he said. The shadow hadn’t come into his room, but he’d certainly seen something out by the woods again. “I’ll explain when we get to your place.”
At the Lermans’ house, they found Seth sitting on the top step. He stood as they approached. After an awkward hello, Mazzy opened the door. Her mom was busy in her office at the back of the house. The trio crept upstairs. “She doesn’t like me having friends over d
uring the week,” Mazzy whispered. “Homework policy.” Once inside her bedroom, the boys plopped down on the floor, while Mazzy sat cross-legged on her mattress. Reaching over to her radio-alarm clock, she turned on some music. “Keep quiet, okay? Don’t want to get you guys kicked out before I even know why you came.”
Everything in Mazzy’s room was yellow and bright, and in the late afternoon light, it all seemed to glow with a warmth that didn’t exist at Temple House. Gabe smiled at the large rainbow-sparkle hula hoop hanging on the wall over her bed, wondering if that was the one she’d used to win that championship she was so proud of.
“Is anyone gonna tell me why we’re here?” Seth asked.
Gabe pulled his bag close and unzipped the largest pocket. He removed the book he’d brought from home and laid it on the floor between them.
Mazzy leaned forward to see over the edge of the bed. “Olmstead and Ashe’s Big Book of…what does that say?”
Seth answered, “Myths, Ghosts, and Monsters.”
“I found this last night in my grandmother’s library. It’s filled with lots of useful information.” Gabe flipped open the cover and turned to page eighty-five. “And pictures.”
WHEN MAZZY AND SETH SAW Gabe’s grandmother’s illustration, they both gasped. After a moment, Seth read aloud the description of the Hunter. With every sentence, he became paler and paler, until by the end, he lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling.
“How is this possible?” Mazzy asked. “I thought you guys made that character up.”
Seth shook his head slightly. “I thought my brother made it up.”
“It doesn’t belong to Olmstead or my grandmother either,” said Gabe.
“Then where did it come from?” Seth glanced at him. “Is it some kind of obscure myth?”
“It’s not a myth,” said Gabe. “A boy named Mason came up with it. He was my grandmother’s friend when they were kids. She’s always remembered the story. And when Mr. Olmstead asked her to illustrate this book, she asked him to include this entry in memory of her friend.”
“In memory?” Mazzy said. “Is he dead?”
“See,” Gabe answered, “that’s the thing…”
They hung on Gabe’s words like climbers dangling from a cliff—as if a simple blink would plunge them into an abyss where they’d never learn the truth.
When Gabe finished, Mazzy and Seth stared again at Elyse’s illustration of the Hunter, digesting the details. “So strange,” said Seth, after a few seconds. “He looks exactly how we imagined him.”
“My grandmother had the idea that maybe David had seen this book somewhere,” said Gabe. “The town library maybe. She thought he’d lifted his version of the legend directly from this page and used it to create a game. The game that he shared with you. The game that you shared with me.”
“Sounds like a virus,” Seth said, and shuddered.
Mazzy plucked nervously at her bedspread. “Gabe also said his grandmother wondered if maybe something out in those woods had planted a seed in Mason’s head. And the seed sprouted into the stories that Mason wrote down.” The group paused, trying collectively to nullify years of being told that such things were impossible. “Let’s throw reality out the window for a few minutes,” Mazzy went on. “Just suppose that fifty years ago, some sort of mysterious entity gave Mason the idea for the Hunter legend.” The boys scoffed, and Mazzy raised a hand. “Hear me out. When Mason transcribed the stories, something happened to allow the entity to materialize. To live. On the night his aunt found the mutilated rooster, the entity…took Mason away.”
“And a couple years ago,” Gabe added, “David might have found a copy of this book in the library. When he started playing his game, that same entity returned…” His curious expression fell away as a hard realization took its place.
“…to take David away too,” Mazzy finished. She glanced at Seth, who seemed fascinated by the floor.
“We played the game, just like David did.” Gabe felt the blood rush from his face. “And now things have been happening to us.”
Seth tore the pillow out from beneath him and threw it against the wall, where it hit with a pathetic whoomp. “No!” he said. “I won’t believe it. David ran away. All the rest of it’s not…It’s just not…” He closed his eyes, letting out a long breath.
“We’re only talking,” Mazzy said, sliding off her bed next to him. She squeezed his shoulder. “There’s got to be a logical explanation.”
“Oh yeah?” Seth asked, raising his voice. “Stories that travel like viruses? Monsters that set traps to catch children for supper? Beasts that creep into our bedrooms at night? You mean logical explanations like those?”
“There has to be an explanation, even if it isn’t logical,” Gabe answered. “I brought this book here today to show you what I learned. To tell you what my grandmother told me. Something is not right in Slade. It’s not just a story.” Gabe reached into his backpack and removed the bull’s-eye map of Slade. “No one but us wants to see the truth. If there is something supernatural occurring in this town and in our woods, we might be the only ones insane enough to end it.”
Seth and Mazzy flinched. “Insane?” Mazzy asked.
“I only mean, we have the imagination to look for answers where anyone else would stop.” Gabe nodded at the book on the floor. “Just like Nathaniel Olmstead.” And Leesy Temple, he thought. He turned the pages, revealing more and more monsters, folktales, and fantasies. “My grandmother said that Nathaniel was a little bit crazy himself. He believed his monsters were real, that he’d fought against them with talismans. He’d discovered the monsters’ weaknesses: the same sorts of everyday objects his characters used to survive.”
“Okay,” said Mazzy. “So then our first task is to figure out our talisman.” She flicked on the lamp next to her bed. Until then, none of them had noticed how dark the room had become.
“No,” said Seth. “What we need to do first is figure out what we’re dealing with.” He ran his finger along the spine of the big book on the floor, as if his touch might extract the answer.
“Why don’t we start with Seth’s family?” Mazzy suggested. “Your cousin Mason lived in your barn. His awful aunt and uncle were your great-grandparents.” Seth stiffened. This connection had not yet occurred to him. “Verna was there when Mason disappeared,” she went on. “And she might have been the only one who had a clue where he’d gone. Or if he’d gone.”
“But she died years ago,” said Gabe.
“I’ll check at home anyway,” said Seth. “See if there’s anything about my family lying around.”
Gabe picked up his grandmother’s book and held it in his lap. “We also have pages of possible answers right here too. I can glance through it again tonight. How about I bring the book to school tomorrow? We’ll settle down somewhere and catch up.”
“But I’m still suspended for the chocolate cake thing,” said Seth. “Unfairly, I might add. I can’t set foot inside school for another few days.”
Gabe sighed. “After school it is, then.”
“We’re going to need some time to go through everything,” said Mazzy. “Where will we be able to do that?”
“My house isn’t good,” said Gabe, remembering his mother’s warning to stay away from Seth.
“What about Seth’s house?” said Mazzy.
But Seth shook his head. “My mom’s definitely not going to want us traipsing through her beloved hellhole.”
“What about back here?” Gabe asked. “It worked well today.”
As if in response, there was a knock on the door. “Mazzy? Who are you talking to?”
Wide-eyed, Mazzy scrambled to stand up. She tucked her long hair behind her ears. Gesturing for the boys to remain silent, she tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack. “It’s just the radio, Mom.”
But Mrs. Lerman pushed at the door and Mazzy skidded on the carpet. The door swung open. “I cannot believe you,” said Mrs. Lerman. She stood in the hall, hands on he
r hips. “Lying to my face?” She pointed at the boys sitting on the floor, then flicked her thumb toward the stairs. “You two are welcome to come back when my daughter learns to ask permission.”
THE NEXT MORNING, Slade Middle School was abuzz with excitement. The final event of the week had been arranged to occur later that evening, on Halloween night.
The high school sat upon a hill adjacent to the middle school. Working together, the student governments of the upper and lower schools had organized a “haunted house” in the high school gymnasium. Students and faculty had constructed a labyrinth of corridors and chambers, each room populated with various horrors. Black-lit ghosts hovered on fishing line. Plastic snakes and bugs fell from above. Volunteers dressed in ghoulish costumes jumped out from hidden partitions.
The haunting was a town tradition and the school’s biggest moneymaker of the year. People came from all over the eastern part of the state to experience the frights of Slade High’s ghostly gym. And according to the senior-class president, who’d been interviewed in the local newspaper that day, this year’s spook show might just be their best yet.
Lacking other options, Gabe figured the event was the perfect spot to meet.
Gabe passed through the rest of the day with a knot in his stomach. After his grandmother had picked him up from the Lermans’ the night before, he’d told her about their discussion. Elyse agreed that he might find some answers in the mythology book. She promised that she was still thinking about what to do.
He ate lunch in the cafeteria with Felicia and Ingrid and Malcolm, if only to keep up the appearance that everything was okay. Felicia was her usual outspoken self, talking up her costume for that evening. She was going as Maleficent from Disney’s Sleeping Beauty.
Malcolm and Ingrid oohed and aahed like good little worker bees, but Gabe simply smiled, half listening. He kept thinking about the Olmstead and Ashe book. During his research, one entry in particular had stuck out, and he couldn’t wait to discuss it with his friends.
The Haunting of Gabriel Ashe Page 15