by K. F. Breene
The question was: what could I do about it?
Chapter Nineteen
“Straight home,” Mr. Morris called after us as we walked toward the bike rack. The bell had rung five minutes before, prompting a strange and awkward chaperoned walk to the front of the school, where the principal took up a sentinel’s position at the top of the stairs.
“I think I’ll just head to the bus,” I muttered to Scarlet, feeling those watery brown eyes digging into my back.
“Ella.” The warning in Scarlet’s voice caught me up short. She stood hunched over her bike, braced against the force of Mr. Morris’s prolonged stare. “Do as he says, though, okay? Just this once. Stay in your house. Don’t go after the others.”
“Ella Beck,” Mr. Morris boomed. “Straight home.”
I was walking before the last syllable fell. “I won’t,” I lied over my shoulder to Scarlet. Because while I definitely wouldn’t go after the others, I absolutely planned to visit Braiden’s house and warn him away from the mansion. I had to. He was likely doing this because of that strange paranormal pull to protect me. It wasn’t fair. I couldn’t yank him into the dangers of my world and then ignore him while he acted on them.
While I waited for the bus, I caught sight of Nate walking along the sidewalk toward the parking lot, chatting with a few of his friends.
It really wasn’t fair that he got to be afraid of ghosts and still be popular. That wasn’t how it was supposed to work. At least, that wasn’t how it had always worked for me.
As I was pondering the social injustice of high school, he glanced my way. His body went rigid and he turned, stalking away from his friends without another word. A moment later, he pushed a younger kid out of the way so he could stop in front of me.
“Ella,” he said, his voice gruff. “Do not go into that mansion tonight.”
I put up my hands to ward him away, frazzled by his intensity.
“Don’t follow them,” he continued. “I don’t care what anyone says—you’re not a fraud. The stuff you say is real. I saw it. With my own eyes. I felt it, Ella.” He pointed to his chest. “I felt it. And you felt it.” He went to prod me in the chest, and I batted his hand away. “We both know I wasn’t drugged. The chemistry teacher said making something like that in class is impossible. So stay the hell away from that mansion, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, aware of all the eyes directed at us.
“And I’ll tell you something else.” He shifted his weight and poked a finger at my chest again. “Dirk believes in all that stuff, too. I know he does. I saw it. Here.” He spread two fingers and held them in front of his eyes. “Right in his peepers. He’s scared, but he’s trying not to show it. But I know.” He nodded, and I worried that maybe the experience the day before had done irreparable damage. “I know what his game is. He’s trying to save face. Trying to keep people from talking crap.” He spread his hands out wide and everyone around us took a step back, including me. “Do you see me caring? I know what I saw.” His gaze swept the staring faces around us. “I know what I saw, and I’m not stupid enough to play dumb and risk my life. And neither are you, Fella. You’re not either. So stay home tonight. Got it?”
“Got it,” I said, a little awestruck by the whole exchange.
“Good. Smart.” With a defiant look around him, he turned and stalked back toward his waiting friends.
“You are seriously hooked up,” Carla said in reverence, having drifted closer without my noticing. She stared after Nate. “Seriously hooked up. Hey.” She turned her large blue eyes on me. “Want to sit together?”
“Not really,” I answered before I could stop myself. I opened my mouth to apologize, but she was already nodding in approval.
“Well played.” She stood her ground but half turned—near me, albeit clearly not with me.
This day was only getting weirder.
My pager lit up with my mom’s work number, but I headed straight to Braiden’s house when I got off the bus anyway. I felt shivers as I crossed onto their yard and walked to their front door. Eyes burned into my back, but when I turned, nothing was there. The tree branches in the yard swayed. Wind mussed my hair.
The door swung open on the third knock and the smell of fresh-baked cookies wafted out to greet me. A striking woman in her mid-forties with dark hair and Braiden’s vivid blue eyes smiled.
“Mrs. Rhodes?” I asked tentatively, noticing the floral print of her apron.
“Yes—you’re Ella Beck from across the street, right?” She pointed toward my house. I nodded. “Yes, I thought I recognized you. Quite the show stopper. You must have to beat boys away with a stick.”
Her smile was genuine, and I didn’t have the heart for a sarcastic response.
“Is Braiden home?” I asked.
Her smile slipped. She brought up her arm and glanced at the time. “No… He should be home any minute, though. He didn’t call to say he’d be late.”
“Oh. Okay.” I took a step back. “Well, can you tell him I stopped by? Or have him call me? I can give you the number.”
She glanced over my shoulder at the street. “Of course. I have your house number. Or do you have your own line?”
“No. Just the one. The one for the house. We all share it.”
She nodded, thankfully ignoring my bumbling. “I’ll have him call as soon as he gets home. It should be any minute now.”
“Great—” The door swung shut, her expression turning more troubled as it disappeared from view.
Tingles ate away at my belly, and I didn’t think it was the strange presence I could feel watching me from somewhere on the property. Braiden’s mom didn’t like that he’d stayed out without checking in. It was a more extreme reaction than most parents would have if their kid stopped somewhere on the way home. She was clearly reacting to past experiences.
I wondered, not for the first time, what skeletons he had in his closet.
Back in my room, I sat at my desk with growing concern. A book assigned for my next essay lay open on my desk, something productive to do while I waited. But the words wouldn’t stick in my brain, and as the light seeped from the sky, and the shiny red Corvette and Dirk’s beat-up Honda stayed absent from the street, I couldn’t help but feel deeply that I was waiting in the wrong location. That they would access the mansion from the back, a route that wasn’t through our neighborhood, so as to hide their cars from the street.
I was clutching my desk, deciding what to do, when my pager clattered across my desk. My mother again. I’d called her as soon as I got in the door, but clearly Mr. Morris had riled her up. She wanted to make sure I was home to stay.
Right behind that, another number. This time Scarlet.
“Ella.” I jumped at the sound of my dad’s voice. He hovered at my door, his hand on the knob.
I glanced at a new number coming in on my pager. Odis. “Yeah?” I asked my dad.
“Your mother had to work late. She said to make sure you stayed inside.” She must’ve told him why.
“I know. I talked to her already.”
“Right. Well, there’s leftovers in the fridge.” He patted the handle before turning, leaving the door standing open in his signature move.
I rolled my eyes and shut it after him before I dialed Odis’s number. “Hey,” I said after he answered. “What’s up?”
“Oh hi. Um…” He cleared his throat, and I stared out the window, seeing two orbs moving slowly down the street. Old Man Foster’s Mustang, one headlight slightly dimmer than the other. “I wondered…”
I pushed forward to see Dirk’s house. The living room light was on, but still no Honda parked out front. Mr. Morris had probably called everyone—unless I was the only one whose parents he felt comfortable harassing—so by now the parents should be trying to find their kids and make them come home.
Unless the parents thought ghosts were preposterous and their little angels would never trespass. Which, in this town, when dealing with star football players and th
eir proud parents, was all too possible.
“I wondered if you wanted to…uh…come over and watch a movie,” Odis finished.
I’d half forgotten who was on the phone.
Two more orbs appeared down the street and I pressed my face against the glass to see. A Firebird. Mr. Chassman’s pride and joy. It passed my house before slowing to turn into his driveway.
“Just because, you know, of the temptation,” Odis said into my distracted silence.
“Oh, right,” I said, mentally returning to the phone call. “Sorry, I can’t. My mom wants me to stay in.”
“Of course. I get that. Well…if you wanted…I could head over there?”
I tapped my fingers against my desk, sitting in the dark, since I hadn’t turned on my room lights. Streetlights outside showered the cement. My clock read 8:23.
“It’s late,” I said to myself, then remembered it was Friday. The night would just be getting started for those with lives, and if the parents all planned to ignore Mr. Morris, they wouldn’t expect their kids home for at least a few hours.
“I know. Yeah, I know that,” Odis said, having assumed the comment was directed at him. “Maybe another time.”
I couldn’t tell if that last line was a question or a comment. “Sure,” I said dismissively. “Sounds great.”
“Yeah?” He perked up, and I suddenly got the impression we were having two different conversations. “Oh great. But hey, Ella…don’t, you know.”
“What?” I slouched against my desk, my remaining patience eroding.
“Don’t go with him. You know, even if he asks you.”
“Who? Braiden?”
“Yeah. It’s dangerous. Because, you know…”
“The mansion, the Old Woman, ghosts, yeah, I got it.”
“Right. That…that stuff.” Odis never shrugged me off, but I could tell the thought of the Old Woman and my predicament made him uncomfortable. “So keep to your house. Stay in tonight. Don’t do anything else…with anyone else, okay?”
How many mothers did a girl need? “Sure thing. Okay, I better get going.”
I barely waited for his goodbye before returning the phone to its cradle. Clouds drifted over the sliver of a moon hanging low in the sky. The last of the day bled away from the night, leaving me in near blackness as I stared out my window, willing something to happen. Willing the boys on the street to return unharmed. Dirk sucked royally, but I didn’t want him dead. Or whatever else the spirits could do to a person. I just wanted this night to end peacefully for all of us.
But the two cars that swung their lights across the empty street over the next half-hour pulled into the wrong driveways.
Ice-cold air washed over my body, and I knew.
If I didn’t get Braiden back in his home, he would die tonight. Without question, he would never return.
If I didn’t at least try to talk him around, one last time, could I live with myself?
I pushed back from my desk and grabbed my sweatshirt.
No, I could not.
I’d have to convince him to go home before the Old Woman stepped out of her door, or we’d both be lost.
Chapter Twenty
My breath came in fast pants as I ran up the street. Fear ran through my blood like a live thing.
“This is so dumb,” I muttered to myself, squinting through the wind blasting my face. Trees swayed harder now and the cold bit into me. No storms had been predicted, as far as I knew. The only signal had been those gray clouds on the horizon, and yet the air felt supercharged with electricity.
I blew out a breath and slowed as the air condensed around me. The edge of the McKinley property started ten feet away. I hadn’t even stepped over the threshold and I could already feel a cluster of presences waiting beyond.
“Oh, this isn’t good,” I said as my belly flip-flopped.
Browned grass choked with weeds grew wild within the confines of the property. A large tree stood proudly in the center of the front yard, its branches spread wide in a tangle of leaves. From this distance, however small, I couldn’t see those branches moving with the wind. The tree stood still and silent, a watchful sentry. Behind it rose the large estate, the columns on the front arching to the roof, framing an abandoned porch with two ancient rocking chairs on either side. Blackened windows looked down at me, watching any who might approach.
I did not want to approach.
I walked around to the path that would take me alongside the huge estate, safely outside of its perimeter. When it came to spirits and unwanted entities, the name of the game was not invading their world. The second the living brought their energy into the realm of the dead, things got exciting. I wanted to keep things as far from exciting as possible tonight.
I ignored the gravel lane leading up to the house, a driveway made long after the house was built. Around the side, I spotted the path that I had been on exactly once in my early life. After the spanking my mother had given me upon finding me there, I had never gone back.
The streetlight seemed to wave goodbye as it was swallowed by the lush vegetation surrounding the path. The moon, mostly covered now, offered me little by way of light. A smart person would’ve brought a flashlight before setting out into the night. Sadly, I’d been so preoccupied with getting out of the house unseen that it had completely slipped my mind.
A wispy hand grabbed my face.
I swallowed the scream and bent away, but the hand came with me. I clawed at my face, tearing away the spider web. Breathing deeply, I combed my hands through my hair, scraping away the rest.
I hated spiders. I really, really hated spiders.
Breath slowing, my heart still beating wildly, I started forward once again with my hands out. Sticky strings attached to my skin, invisible in the darkness. I stopped and sliced my hands through the air, clearing the webs away before wiping them on my jeans. A little farther along, I had to repeat the process.
Getting smart, I searched down to the ground for a stick. That acquired, I started forward again, hacking my way through the path like I was in the rainforest with a machete. It worked. Only slight wisps of web clutched at me as I passed.
Barely able to discern the path, I worked around the grounds, keeping my patience in check. It wouldn’t be good to panic. Panicking would lead to bad decisions should I come to a fork in the road, and the last thing I needed was to be lost out here all night.
The light from above dimmed even more as a heavier cloud drifted over the moon. I kept going, my stick moving and my other hand extended to the side as a feeler.
I wound around until the insistent, high-pitched throb of crickets invaded my tunnel of mostly darkness. Continuous and aggressive, the sound came at me from all sides. The whine of a mosquito grew louder near my right ear, the little beast floating on the sticky breeze, about to land.
It was then I realized the difference in temperature. No longer did the air feel like mid-October climate. Now it felt like late summer, hot and sticky. It coated my skin and seemed to soak into my suddenly too-warm clothes.
Light sprinkled down from a clear, star-studded sky, harboring a completely full moon.
I licked my lips, frozen on the path.
This wasn’t right. The heat and the chorus of insects spoke of a warm night in midsummer, not the frigid darkness of fall. The same lush vegetation rose on either side, but the path seemed bigger somehow. Wider and cleared of almost all debris. A proper, well-used walking path.
Trudging on, I gritted my teeth against the prickly feeling along my skin. I was within the boundaries of the mansion. I had to be. The change in climate, the improved appearance of the path—the past was rearing up again, wanting someone to play witness. Or maybe wanting someone to pay homage.
With a shudder, I sped up, thankful when the path bent away again and the moon slipped behind the clouds that had repopulated the sky. I no longer minded the darkness.
My heart rushed in my ears, drowning out the sudden silence. After another f
ew feet, I heard someone say, “Shhhhh,” followed by a low murmur. A surge of joy—and then dread—overwhelmed me. I wasn’t alone, which boosted my dwindling confidence, but it also meant Braiden and his friends hadn’t had the sense to wander away on their own.
The path bent around. The murmur of voices increased.
Something dropped onto my head. I slapped at it, but little legs skittered across my forehead and down to my cheek.
“Oh no!” I shouted, slapping at my face. “Oh no, no. Get off!” I convulsed, dancing in place and flapping my arms, my usual defense against bugs. Something touched me from the other side, sliding against my temple.
I screamed, a high-pitched sound common for those unnaturally afraid of creepy-crawlies, and unfortunate for those trying to stay quiet. I stabbed at the bush with my stick, realizing belatedly that the second creature that had “attacked” me wasn’t a critter at all. It was a leaf.
Sucking in air, I tried to center myself on the path. The crawling sensation still moved over my skin, but I tried to push past it and regain control.
Fingers shot out and wrapped around my upper arm.
I screamed again, this time hoarse with terror. I swung my stick around. It hit off someone’s face as I struggled to break free. The hand didn’t let me go.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Ow. Ella,” I heard. “It’s me.”
The voice was familiar, but it was hard to make out, given my rough panting and the sound of my wildly beating heart in my ears. Not totally in control, I swatted again, hitting the man in the shoulder.
“Dang it, Ella. It’s me. It’s Braiden. Stop hitting me.” Another large hand closed around my other upper arm, trying to still me.
I wiggled for freedom before my fight-or-flight reflex simmered down. Despite the fear still pulsing through me, butterflies filled my stomach. I held on to the stick for good measure.