Nocturnes (Mary Hades Book 3)

by Sarah Dalton

  “Hey,” I say, directing my gaze towards Grace. “You okay?”

  She flashes me her megawatt smile. “I’m great. Come sit with us.”

  As soon as my bum hits the seat, I’m enveloped in tales of new nail varnish, annoying parents, sneaked vodka, and cheating boyfriends. Lacey stands by the door, smiling and waving. I smile back, but then someone walks straight through her, turns around, and closes the door, leaving her on the other side. My smile fades. She’s outside, looking in, and there’s nothing I can do to change it.

  *

  Grace links arms with me as we go to English. There’s no mention of the conversation the night before. She chatters about Travis. About how he bought her a pretty gold bracelet with love heart charms. She dangles it in front of my face, and I can’t help but think how tacky and how unlike Grace it is.

  “Come with me to the loo,” she asks, wrapping hard fingers around my upper arm. “I don’t like going in there alone. Not after what happened.”

  I follow her into the girls’ bathroom. We barely manage to get through the door. The entire bathroom is flooded. Grace screeches and leaps back, colliding with me. We back away with wet shoes.

  “It’s the ghost again,” she says in a raspy whisper.

  “I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts.”

  “I was dubious at first. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.” She runs her hands through her hair and looks all around her. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “We need to tell someone. A teacher,” I say.

  “I need to get away from here. This is all too weird.”

  She sets off at a fast walk, so quick that I struggle to keep up with her.

  “Look, I don’t think that was an actual ghost. It was probably someone who left the taps on for a laugh. I’ll be honest, I think there is a ghost at Ashforth, but that wasn’t it.”

  She stops and turns to me, taking both arms into her hands. “Mary, you came to us at just the right time. We need you here at Ashforth.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “We need someone like you to protect us.” Her eyes sparkle. They’re wide and bulging, as though tinged with madness. “We’re not safe anymore.”

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I don’t think this ghost is going to hurt anyone. It… she… is in a lot of pain and needs help moving on. I was worried she would lash out, but I guess she would have done it by now.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” Grace lets out a sigh. “Look. I’m having a party thing tonight. It’s nothing big, just a sleepover with pizza and prosecco. I invited the girls. I thought we could watch A Clockwork Orange, get into PJs and chill out. Everything has been so weird lately. I can take you to school tomorrow morning. What do you reckon? Want to come to mine at about seven?”

  A bubble of excitement builds up in my heart. “It sounds great. I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Ten

  A midnight chill in the evening air catches the back of my neck. Dad drops me off at the address, and I stand outside a Regency style door with a rucksack slung over my shoulder and small bottle of prosecco in my left hand, which I promised Dad was a gift only. Even in the dim glow of twilight I can tell that Grace’s house matches her persona. The white walls are pristine. The windows are neat and tidy. Hanging baskets of shrubbery are perfectly trimmed. I imagine that she shares clothes with her mother, and that her dad either wears a suit or white jeans with a jumper tied over his shoulders. They take their holidays in Cannes and wear matching boat shoes and push their Chanel sunglasses into their hair.

  They don’t bring a ghost to a pizza and prosecco party.

  “Are you going to knock, or shall I?” Lacey asks, impatiently pushing her hair behind her ears.

  “The lights are off,” I say, peering through the window.

  “Want me to go in first?” Lacey offers.

  I shake my head and step closer to the door. It swings open with the slightest touch of my knuckles. I turn to Lacey and she frowns. A cold hit of fear snakes up my legs like slugs on my skin. When I put a toe over the threshold and into this stranger’s house, I regret not bringing the Athamé with me.

  “Hello?” I call.

  Grace’s house smells like talcum powder and bleach. A coat stand seems to lean towards me in the entrance hall, and my heart skips a beat. With one hesitant foot after the other, I creep down the corridor into this unknown house. Lacey is an electric current by my side, emanating tension like a storm cloud. My hand tightens over the strap of my bag.

  “Hello?” I call out again. “Grace?” My voice cracks.

  The silence is a thick blanket of unease as the light of the day fades, darkening the room around me. Grace’s lounge is silent. Every shadow hangs in the air as though mocking me, challenging me to lose my composure. My breath is the loudest sound in the room, my pulse a close second. I feel everything, the stretch of my skin over my muscles, the tightening of every cord in my body, the sizzle of Lacey beside me, the prick of tears behind my eyes.

  What’s happened here?

  “Grace?” my voice croaks.

  I have to get out of here. Every instinct tells me to turn around, run away, and keep running until I get home to Ravenswood. Yet here I stand. Feet planted apart. Sweaty hands gripping the strap on my bag. Mouth agape.

  A shadow moves. I spin around, trying to chase it. It’s fleeting. There’s nothing there.

  The light flicks on. I’m stood directly under it, and the sudden brightness burns my eyes. I squint as bodies crawl out from every hiding place in the room: behind the sofa, the armchair, the television...

  “Surprise!” they yell.

  Grace hops over to me holding a large pizza box. “Welcome to my home!”

  Completely bewildered, I let my gaze trail over the room. Terri, Melanie, and Colleen are all giggling so hard their champagne flutes wobble.

  “We got you so bad,” Colleen says through her laughter. “You should have seen your face.”

  I exhale my tension in a nervous laugh. “Seriously? That was a joke?”

  “Oh my God, I thought you were going to piss your pants,” Melanie says.

  “I nearly did,” I say. Grace passes me a drink and I take a long gulp of it. I’m barely aware of Grace pulling the bottle of prosecco from my hand and wandering out of the room with it. “That was evil.”

  Terri wraps an arm around my shoulder. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

  “Oh, man. I thought the pizza was going to be late and ruin it all.” Colleen slumps back onto the sofa and offers me a slice of pepperoni pizza.

  I follow her, taking the food. In the cover of the room, I eye Lacey sitting cross-legged watching everything unfold. She leans forward with her hair half-covering her face, eyes hooded and dark. While I’ve loosened up from the fright, Lacey’s mouth is a tight line, and her brow is furrowed with anger. She watches Grace walk back into the room and my stomach tightens. Lacey is seriously pissed off. I want to go over there and tell her it’s all right, that it was all a joke, a really funny joke, but I wonder if my assurances would even work. If Lacey thinks something’s wrong, it takes a lot to convince her otherwise.

  “The film’s about to start,” Grace says. “If this isn’t better than the book, I’m gonna slit my wrists. The book is so fucking dull.”

  “Um, we’re not even in your Lit class, so if you make us sit through some shitty film, you’re in for a world of pain,” Melanie says.

  “Calm your tits,” Grace replies. “We can watch Pitch Perfect again after.”

  Melanie pulls a piece of pepperoni from her pizza and smiles with approval. “Better.”

  The film starts, and it’s everything I expected it to be: horrifying, poignant, strange. The styling is dated, and there are times when we laugh out loud. But then Alex’s eyes are forced open, and the pizza churns in my stomach. Grace and the others talk through much of the film, but I find it hard to think of anything to say. Whenever a lull in conv
ersation happens, and I decide to speak, I’m not fast enough. They have a rhythm to their chatter. They all know when to speak, what to say. I’m too slow. As soon as I think of a contribution, the conversation moves on. Occasionally, when I try to butt in, I talk over someone else and get ignored. Soon, I slip back in my seat and watch the film instead, still playing Beethoven over and over in my mind when it finishes.

  Sometimes I wonder how difficult it would be to become Alex. It shocks me to realise that I believe under the right circumstances, almost anyone could be an Alex. Imagine what it would be like to never be the outsider, to be the leader, and to have everyone hanging on your every word. Instead of you trying to force your way into a conversation, people stop to hear you. Instead of forgetting what you wanted to say, your word is the first and the last. There is little more powerful than being listened to, and darkness lies in us all. Power can coax either the dark or the light out of us. Which would it be if I was powerful?

  I excuse myself and get bathroom directions from Grace. Her house is large, but not on the same scale as Colleen’s. It’s a beautiful town house with pristine, large rooms. The décor is a touch on the old-fashioned side. There’s a lot of pine and cream. The bathroom is wallpapered with a floral pattern of pink lilies on a white background.

  “Mary.”

  Lacey follows me into the bathroom. I shut the door and sit down on the toilet seat, still trying to get my composure back.

  “I think we should go,” Lacey says.

  “Why?”

  “Something’s not right. I think Judith is here.”

  I lean forward and rub my knees, trying to rid my arms of tension. “Why do you think that?”

  “It’s just a sense, nothing more. I feel edgy.”

  “Me too,” I admit. “But I think it was the prank. If Judith was here, she would have done something. Anyway, why would she leave the school?”

  Lacey frowns. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. I haven’t seen her or anything. It’s a feeling, that’s all.”

  Lacey still feels, even as a ghost. Sometimes I have to take a moment to think about how remarkable that is.

  “I actually do need a wee,” I say, breaking the taut silence. “Can you give me a minute?”

  Lacey laughs. “Have you ever thought about how weird the word wee is?” She’s still chuckling as she seeps through the closed door.

  Melanie passes me on the way back to the lounge. It’s the first time I’ve seen her alone since Colleen’s party, and we still haven’t addressed what happened.

  I stop and turn to her. “Hey, are we okay about everything?”

  She offers me a smile, but it’s a little half-hearted. “Sure.”

  “You’re not mad at me for what I did, then?” I ask, trying to quell the disappointment that she still hasn’t thanked me.

  “No.” She looks down at her feet and then back at me. “I’m not an idiot skank who needs saving. I mean, I don’t want to be rude. I know you were trying to help. But I like going with guys. I like getting drunk and hooking up.”

  “Okay. I thought, because you were so drunk… You know, that you needed help. That you needed someone looking out for you. I mean, were you really aware?”

  Melanie folds her arms across her chest, and for the first time, a flicker of something more vulnerable travels across her face. “I… yeah, but the thing is, I would have done it sober.”

  “That doesn’t make them good guys,” I say, taking a step closer. “It’s okay, you know, to admit that you’re in too deep. If you ever want to talk, or if you ever want to go to someone, like a teacher or the police, I’m here for you, okay?”

  She nods quickly, not meeting my eyes, before scuttling away from me. I turn around and head back towards the lounge, with a hard and tight ball of anxiety in my stomach. I could have sworn that Melanie looked a little guilty before she headed to the bathroom. Maybe it was because she didn’t thank me. I shake my head, trying to figure everything out. I can’t help but wonder if she’s tricking herself into believing she was in control that night. Any waiver, any show of weakness, of needing help, could bring a tidal wave of feelings. I remember losing control. I remember what it was like to be possessed by that spirit. To me, it’s the most maddening and desperate feeling, to lose control. I don’t blame her for clinging on to the belief that everything is fine.

  “We’re going to my room,” Grace says in an excited voice. She clutches onto her champagne flute, and a flush of red has crept across her cheeks and neck. “I have the best idea.”

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “You’ll see.”

  Grace takes my hand and I shoot Terri a look.

  “Don’t ask me,” she says. “I don’t know either.”

  We hurry up the stairs and down a spacious hallway, collecting Melanie on our way. Grace’s room is light and feminine in a tasteful way. There are dashes of fuzzy pink in over-the-top cushions and teddies, but mostly, her room is neutral and classic. But there’s something immature about the polka dot curtains and heart-shaped cork board. I realise that it unlocks a thought that’s been bothering me since I came to Ashforth. The girls are so immature. I feel like I’ve gone back in time two years.

  But in some ways that’s a good thing.

  “Clear some space on the ottoman,” Grace instructs.

  We remove her clothes from the grey ottoman and pull it out into the room. Grace throws cushions onto the floor, and we arrange ourselves around the ottoman like people taking tea in an Eastern country. Grace plonks down a board game and steps back.

  “Ta-da!”

  My blood runs cold. The board game is not a board game at all. It’s a Ouija board.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” I say. I start to get up, but Colleen grasps my arm and pulls me down.

  “Come on. It’ll be fun.” There’s something about her forceful tone that rings an alarm in my mind.

  I examine my arms to see the half-moon marks from Colleen’s fingernails.

  Grace sits opposite me, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s pretty obvious that Judith Taylor is haunting the school. Why don’t we ask her why?”

  “God, that lame-o.” Terri rolls her eyes. “She’s not interesting enough to haunt anyone.”

  Lacey appears at my side, and it takes every ounce of my willpower to not react. “They’re doing this to fuck with you. Don’t worry; I’ll fuck with them instead.”

  Grace places the marker onto the board. Colleen has to lift my hand and put my finger onto the marker. I don’t want to do this, but I don’t have my car with me. Grace lives miles from my home. The only thing I can do is pretend until I can go to the bathroom and call a taxi.

  “Is anyone there?” Grace asks.

  Lacey places her finger on the marker and it shoots towards YES.

  There are a few nervous giggles around the circle. I do not laugh.

  “Who are you?” Grace says.

  The marker flies to J, then U. It’s pretty obvious where this is going.

  “I’m not moving it,” Lacey says. “I tried to, but I think they’re doing it.”

  J-U-D-I-T-H

  Grace’s face loses the smirk. I examine her, trying to tell if she’s acting, or if this is for real. Lacey sensed a presence in the house, but my gut instinct is that Grace has planned this whole thing from the beginning. She only asked me here to make fun of me.

  “Do you have a message for us, Judith?” Grace asks.

  The marker points to YES.

  “Who is your message for?”

  M-A-R-Y

  I let go. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to scare me.”

  Colleen bites her lip. Melanie looks away. Terri remains blank, but with a little sparkle in her eyes. Grace has no expression on her face.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Grace says. “I thought you believed in this stuff.”

  “You’re teasing me,” I say. “Because of what I said to you. Did you fl
ood the bathroom at school, too? Were you just trying to get on my side so you could humiliate me?”

  “How dare you accuse me of that,” Grace says, throwing as much outrage into her voice as she can. “I invited you to my home because I like you.”

  A jolt runs up my spine. She’s saying exactly what I want to hear because I’m so easy to manipulate. I’ve been so stupid. I never fit into this group.

  “I should go,” I say. “I’ll phone for a taxi and be gone in ten.”

  I start to leave, but Colleen pulls me down again. “Don’t go. We’re having fun.”

  “Why don’t we play truth or dare instead?” Grace says. “Mary, why don’t you go with truth. You can tell us how you got those scars, then.”

  The blood drains from my face. I stutter, “W-what?”

  “It must be a fascinating story,” she continues.

  “Fuck these bitches,” Lacey says. She crackles next to me. With a swipe of her hand, the pointer flies from the board and slaps against the wall of Grace’s bedroom.

  The girls scream and duck for cover.

  Grace sits up. “One of your ghosts, was it?” Now she’s revealing herself. Her voice is cold. Her eyes are glassy as marbles. Her megawatt smile is gone. This is Grace. She’s not just flawed, she’s nasty.

  Lacey stands. Her hair moves as though caught in a gust of wind. The temperature of the room drops.

  Then the lights go out.

  “We’re not alone,” Lacey growls.

  “Everyone, get out!” I scream.

  Chapter Eleven

  Hysteria sweeps through the room. Shadows bulge and spread in the dark. The air is electric, but I can’t figure out if it’s from Lacey or Judith.

  “Reveal yourself to me, Judith,” I say.

  Something grasps my body in a vice-like grip, clamping my arms to my sides. I struggle, wriggling and squirming like a snake, panic hot and dry in my throat. Cigarette breath blows on my neck. A tongue licks my skin, tasting me. Then there’s a laugh.

  The lights go back on, and I taste bile in my mouth.