Nocturnes (Mary Hades Book 3)

by Sarah Dalton

  “This place looks like a Pinterest house,” I say, half to myself and half to Lacey.

  “Mary!” comes a shriek. The voice is followed by Colleen, dressed in a neon pink high-waisted miniskirt and a white crop top. Her heels are sky-high, and gold jewellery drapes down her chest. She’s clutching a large glass of wine and her eyes are a little too wide, as though she’s just had a shock. Her arms wrap around my neck and her bones press into my skin as she hugs me tight. The girl is so tense I can see the taut lines of her muscles. “I’m so glad you’re here. Can I get you a drink?”

  “I brought some Diet Coke with me. Sorry it’s so lame, but my dad doesn’t like me drinking so I had to pretend.”

  Colleen staggers back a little and taps the side of her nose. “Say no more. Say no more, darling. Glass of wine?”

  “I’d love one.”

  “Mary!” Another set of slender arms wraps around my neck. I’m covered with the nectarine scent of Grace’s Jo Malone perfume. “You’re here. And you look gorgeous. Told you, didn’t I? That dress picked you. Now, check out my outfit. It looks so much better with the shoes than in the shop, yes?”

  “You look stunning,” I say as she performs a twirl. All beige and cream, she could live in this room, become part of the décor.

  “Urgh, this is so dull. I’m going to go haunt.”

  I try not to show that Lacey leaving makes me feel bad. I had hoped that bringing her to the party would cheer her up. It’s weird that she’s been so quiet and calm recently. A lot of the time she isn’t around at all, especially when I’m at school.

  Colleen puts a glass of wine into my hand and then takes the other in hers, pulling me into a dance. Grace moves behind me and I feel her hips move in time with mine. Before I know it, half the room is watching us with desire in their eyes, and it makes me feel powerful in a new, exciting way. The Athamé gives me power. It enables me to send troubled spirits into the Otherworld, but it’s not my own power. I can’t do it alone. This is different. It makes me feel wanted. It makes me feel sexy. These girls have made me as powerful and sexy as they are, and I like it.

  The night slips by in a wine-fuelled haze. It’s all dancing and laughing and a bass line I feel pumping through my chest. I’ve not felt this alive since being with Seth. For the first time, I find myself surveying the room, looking for someone I can make a connection with. But I decide not to. This isn’t about hooking up, it’s about fitting in with this new group, and nothing can stop me. Not even Travis turning up and chest-bumping Rob, or Grace’s frequent trips to the toilet with Melanie. Or Lacey’s disappearance.

  Midnight comes, and my mind is muddled with alcohol. The room is electric with the magic hour, and I have a sudden urge to be outside, to see the stars and feel the night air on my skin. I love this time. I love how it starts the new day. With it come the possibilities for change, or joy, or freedom. Or pain, or suffering, or trauma. Or haunting.

  It’s my dark energy that draws me to midnight. I pull away from the sweaty, dancing bodies and stumble out onto the patio. My ears ring with the thunder of music. My heart pounds the same tattoo against my ribs. And outside, the air smells like rain. Some guy pukes into a bush. A girl has a tearful fight with her boyfriend. Willa Maynard lounges on rattan garden furniture puffing on a cigarette, and next to her sits Lacey.

  I stand there for a few moments, watching Lacey sit so motionless and quiet. Her face is expressionless. She seems lost. Caught in a moment. I want to go to her, but I also don’t want to pull her away. Sadness washes over me like a tide of cold water, and the alcohol ebbs away, leaving me forced back to reality. Lacey is attracted to Willa, and she can’t do anything about it because she’s dead.

  I step away from the patio and head back into the house. Through sober eyes I see a mess. Heaving bodies have created an unpleasant musk of sweat. Colleen is so drunk she’s leaning against the sofa with smudged eyes, and Terri is trying to force-feed her water. Grace stands in the middle of the room talking to some unknown guy. Her lips move almost as fast as her arms, while the guy tries to edge away. Grace sniffs—something she’s been doing a lot tonight—before wiping the sweat from her forehead. I need to get out of here. I need to feel water on my face and get myself together before I go home. So I head upstairs.

  Chapter Six

  The air in Colleen’s house is thick with body heat. By now, the party is out of control, and there are people turning up who look like they’re either way too old or way too young to be here. Even the stairs are packed full of people. Some fourteen-year-old grabs my arse, so I turn and glare at him. The kid backs away, laughing nervously.

  I wipe a sheen of sweat from my forehead and continue pushing my way through the crowd. The pulse of music vibrates through the stairs. It continues through the hot bodies, pumping deep into my bones. A spaced-out guy makes kissing noises at me, lowering his gaze down my body. His girlfriend pulls him away and their bodies mash against the wall. Someone’s beer sloshes down my neck. I stagger through the people, barely able to breathe, the alcohol lying heavy on my mind, like a cloak. No matter how much I sober up, it’s still there, trying to drag me down, making the world a little fuzzier, a little more wobbly.

  Finally, I find space in the corridor to breathe. I lean back against the white wall, inhaling and exhaling with my eyes shut tight. When I open then, I have to clutch my throat to stop myself from screaming. The sagging skin of a corpse is only an inch from my nose. Its tongue snakes out and slithers across its teeth. Its bulging eyeballs bore into mine. I close my eyes as my blood pulses through my extremities. I can even feel it in my teeth, and beneath my fingernails.

  When I open my eyes again, Travis Vance stands before me with one arm pressing against the wall. He leans towards me and smiles.

  “Looking fit tonight, Hades.”

  “Wish I could say the same,” I say, trying to compose my breathing. My heart refuses to comply. It thud-thud-thuds away.

  “Playing hard to get doesn’t suit you,” he says. He leans back and swigs his beer. “I could think of a few positions that would suit you, though. On your back, for one.”

  I’ve heard enough. I duck under his arm and hurry away, pushing some poor skinny kid out of the way. My stomach churns the cheap wine and canapés. I focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Jack Maynard watches me stumble through the corridor. A girl leans against him, her hand on his chest, looking up at him adoringly. His expression is emotionless. Almost cold. Our eyes meet over the head of the blonde attached to his chest. He’s the first to look away, uninterested. Dick.

  By some stroke of luck, the first door I open is the bathroom, and it’s empty. I lock the door behind me and let myself slide down to the floor. A few moments of heavy breathing, and feeling the cool tiles against my skin, and I already feel better. I stand up, still a little shaky on the heels Grace put me in, and make it over to the sink. The urge to vomit dies down, which is a relief because I hate throwing up, but the sight of my face in the bathroom mirror is bad enough. It’s plain to see that I’m far, far out of my depth at this party. I scrub my face with Colleen’s soap, removing the smudged make-up and refreshing my pasty skin. As I dry my face, the image of Travis Vance merges with the zombie to create something terrible in my mind.

  There’s a bang on the door and I drop the towel.

  “Hurry up. I need to puke.”

  I leave the towel where it is and open the door. A guy rushes past me, his shoulders huddled, his hand clamped over his mouth. I hurry out the door and farther down the corridor as the retching begins. It’s definitely time to get the hell out of this place. Jack Maynard seems to have gone, as has Travis, so I decide to stay where I am to phone for a taxi. But the music is still thumping. I decide to duck into one of the rooms to use my phone.

  “What the hell—” It’s Travis who speaks. “Oh, come to join, have you?”

  I stand in the doorway with my jaw hanging open. Travis isn’t alone. A drunken Melanie lies on th
e bed, her head rolling from side to side. She’s not tipsy, or a bit inebriated, she’s wasted. Her dress is pulled up and there are three hands on her thighs. The other belongs to Anil.

  “Hey, Mary,” Melanie slurs. “Have you seen Grace?” She tries to sit up and flops to the side.

  “I’m getting you out of here,” I say. I stride over to the bed and slip Melanie’s arm over my shoulder, glaring hard at Anil in particular. Travis is a dick, but I thought better of him. Anil moves away from the bed and runs his hands through his hair.

  “Hey, why you spoil the fun?” Melanie slurs.

  “Trust me, that wouldn’t have been fun,” I say.

  “Oh, take the stick out of your arse, Hades.” Travis sneers at me as I half-drag Melanie out of the room.

  I grit my teeth, shouldering Melanie down the corridor. She’s a tiny thing, but I’m not much bigger. Her feet stumble down the hall.

  “I’m okay, you know. I’m a big girl,” she complains.

  “Walk by yourself, then,” I challenge.

  She falls silent.

  “I knew what I was doing,” she says again.

  “You’re drunk, they’re sober. It’s wrong.”

  Melanie shuts up when I say that. Getting her down the stairs almost results in the two of us falling to our deaths, but the sheer amount of people helps us regain our footing in time. The slip seems to sober Melanie a little, and she begins to walk a little better. Back in the lounge, I scan the room for Grace, wondering if I should give Melanie back to her friends, or take her straight home in a taxi. I have thirty quid in my purse, enough to get me home plus a little extra, but I don’t know where Melanie lives. Out here in the countryside, houses can be miles apart.

  “I love this song!” she says, lifting her arm from my shoulder and backing away. It’s like watching a baby deer try to dance on ice. She grabs hold of my hand and reluctantly pulls me towards the DJ.

  “You need to go home,” I try to shout over the music.

  But Melanie has her head tipped back and her arms in the air. Her hips move lazily to the music, out of sync with the beat. I wonder if she even knows what song it is. Still, she seems okay for now, so I decide to hold off on the taxi and dance for a little while. Perhaps I can get some coffee in her before we go. The music loosens me up, and some of the worries come unravelled, like working through tight knots. I roll my head from side to side, letting my hair swing. I face the glass side of the building, watching the night through the window: midnight blue and speckled with inky clouds. The room melts away. The faint whiff of puke, the glistening bodies of the inebriated, the harsh white of the furniture, and the littered carpet… it all fades away, leaving me, the music, and the night.

  Then the lights go out.

  Melanie screams. A hand clutches my shoulder. Nails dig into my skin. I wrench myself away. Someone pushes against me and I spin around. There are a few nervous giggles, a few over-the-top screams, then laughter.

  Then silence.

  Then music.

  A low, haunting tune plays through the sound system. Everyone stops moving as the string music plays. The strokes are slow and long to begin with, dragging out each note so that it resonates through my chest. The sadness in those notes creates an ache in my stomach. I double over, clutching my abdomen. The air is a tight ball in my throat. Then the melody quickens. The strokes are frenzied. The notes clash. I ball my hands into fists, feeling the anger flow through me. An image enters my mind of a girl hunched over the cello, pouring her heart and soul into the music. But as quickly as the image is there, it’s gone. The lights flick back on, and the music stops. There’s a round of applause from the partygoers. There’s even a chorus of whooping when some couples are discovered making out.

  I look around for Melanie, relieved that the moment is over. Before I can find her, a freezing cold sensation seeps over me. It’s like having chilled honey poured over my skin. I turn my head towards the centre of the crowd and my heart stops. A slow breath of pure terror whistles through my teeth. I take one step back, close my eyes, then open them, willing it to go away.

  An emaciated body crawls under the feet of the dancers. No one sees it. No one feels the touch of its skin. But I see it. I see how the bones stick out of its skin, and the way its fingers stretch long and thin, in a preternatural way. I see its hair hanging limp and dank over its head, covering its face. I see the way its knees bend at the wrong angle, and how it pushes itself forward like an insect. I wish I could unsee it. I wish I could remove it from my mind.

  “Get away from me,” I hiss. “Leave me alone.” I raise my voice slightly. The body inches towards me. “Get away from me!”

  My fingernails dig deep into my palms. Sweat trickles between my shoulder blades. I squeeze my eyes shut. When I open them, it’s gone, but everyone in the room is staring at me. Grace stands there with one hand on her hip and a frown on her face. I shake out my trembling hands, find Melanie sprawled out on the floor, help her up, and half-drag her from the room, trying to ignore the stares of everyone around me.

  When we make it onto the patio, my knees are jelly. Melanie actually has to hold me up. I open my clutch bag, and the contents spill onto the ground. I bend and frantically put it all back in, finding my phone at last. It takes me three attempts to find the number for the taxi. Every time I tap the screen on the wrong number. I take a deep breath, pulling in the night air. I lift my face to the sky as the phone rings. It’s a clear night, and the dapple of stars makes me feel insignificant in the grand scheme of life.

  Melanie has to slur the address of Colleen’s house to me as I request the taxi. She also assures me that she has plenty of money. I sit her down on a patio chair, hoping the night air will sober her up before the taxi comes.

  Lacey is nowhere to be seen. Neither is Willa Maynard, but I do spot her brother helping that blonde girl into his car. She seems almost as drunk as Melanie. When I first started Ashforth Secondary School, this seemed like a quiet town with a quiet population. I never expected all this drama. I never expected to be in the middle of it all.

  And all I want to do now is tell Lacey about what I saw in Colleen’s lounge. The sight of that emaciated body crawling towards me will forever be in my nightmares. I’m still on edge. I’m wound tight, like a ball of yarn. I rub my forearms with my hands, failing to warm myself. If we are made of our experiences, I am rot. My life is filled with the decay of death, and there is nothing I can do to run from it. No matter how hard I try to embrace this destiny, it still manages to shock and disturb me at every corner. If I believed in the divine, or destiny, I would question why I was given such talent. Why me? With the fragile mind and sensitive disposition. Why pick me? It doesn’t make any sense.

  The taxi arrives. I notice the driver give me a hard look as I help Melanie into the seat, but he doesn’t refuse the fare when I give him Melanie’s address. I sink back into the leather seat. Judith has revealed herself to me. She shared her pain with me. Now I need to block out my fears and concentrate on sending her back to the otherworld.

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning is a smudge of strong tea, rain on the windows, and daytime television. Dad is catching up on work in his study. Mum is doing the ironing. I’m tempted to visit Emmaline, but the rain—and my throbbing head—stops me. I turn off the TV and head upstairs to prowl around my room listening to Morrissey.

  “What is this depressing shit you’re listening to?”

  Her sudden presence makes me start, but I’m relieved to see my best friend again. I flop onto the bed and face her. Lacey is in her usual grey hoody, and her hair frames her face as always. But she has more life in her today. Some of the dark mood that’s been following her around seems to have lifted. This is one of the moments I look at my dead best friend and think of her as a beacon of light energy left in my life.

  “You’re back!”

  “Like Arnie,” she says with a smirk.

  “Where did you go last night? I looked for y
ou. Did you see the ghost? It was scary as hell, worse than Little Amy.”

  Lacey rolls her eyes. “No, I didn’t see a bloody ghost.”

  There’s a crackle in the air. Even though Lacey has more life in her today, there is tension lurking within. I feel it work its way down my spine and my muscles tighten. There’s rigidity in the set of Lacey’s jaw that makes me wary.

  I finally ask. “What’s wrong? Why are you so down?”

  She walks up and down, biting her nails. Eventually, her shoulders slump and she turns to me. “Nothing.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Nothing? Come on. There is something. You’re acting really weird. Is it because of that girl? Willa?”

  “Who?” Lacey says, shrugging her shoulders.

  “I saw you sat near her at the party.”

  Lacey sighs and sits next to me. Her ghost form doesn’t even dint the duvet. “All right, I sat near her for a bit. She’s pretty. I wanted to see what she’s like.”

  “And?”

  “She seems a lot nicer than those tools you’re friends with.”

  “They’re not so bad. They’re just different from us, that’s all.”

  “And you want to be part of their little group, do you?” she asks.

  “It’s not like I’m trying to be better than I am by hanging out with them,” I reply. “I don’t long for their lifestyle. But they’re the first people to be kind to me since I left Magdelena. Lace, it’s hard for me to make friends. I’m a freak!” I move closer to her. “You’re my best friend, and you always will be. I just need to see this out.”