The Shattered Seam (Seam Stalkers Book 1)

by Kathleen Groger

  More freaky tingles tapped along the length of my arms, legs, and back, making my skin seem a size too small. I rubbed up and down on my arms trying to shake off the creepies.

  “We have permission from the owner to film an episode of our TV show on the island.” Daniel flapped a sheet of paper that Frank waved away.

  “Oh, y’all are on TV. My, my, my. Celebrities. Standing right here in front of me.” Captain Frank twisted a toothpick between his teeth. “Are ya famous?”

  Eric cracked his knuckles. “We’ve been on the air for four seasons. Check us out. Horrors & Hauntings, Saturdays, nine o’clock on the RealU Channel.”

  “Good for you. I never saw no celebrity money in all my years in ’Bama. ’Cause money, and lots of it, is the only thing that will get me anywhere near that cesspool of evil.” Frank pulled the toothpick out, wiped it on his stained shirt, then stuck it back in his mouth. “If y’all insist on going, I’ll only drop ya off and pick ya up at a designated time.”

  “Perfect. Care if we get you on camera?” Eric made a circular motion to Randall, who started filming.

  “I don’t care. But understand this, I won’t set foot on that unholy ground.”

  Daniel gave Frank a waiver to sign, and Eric faced Randall’s camera. “The unholiness is what makes the island the perfect place for our investigation.”

  My hopes of leaving whizzed away. Despite all the people in such a compact space, I shuddered at the icy air licking the back of my neck.

  “Deal.” Eric held out his hand to shake Frank’s, but after a second too long of Frank ignoring him, he motioned for Randall to turn off the camera.

  “And so ya know, when—not if, when—ya call me, and want to be picked up early, the fee gets tripled.”

  “Works for us.”

  Amelia peeked out from around Frank. She opened her mouth in a gap-toothed smile and waved. I forced down a cry of surprise. How had she gotten here without us seeing her? I wiggled my fingers up and down at her.

  Eric leaned his elbow on the counter. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the story with Defiance Castle?”

  Amelia squeezed around the guys until she reached me. “Here. Once he sees you, you’ll need this, Miss Sam.” She shoved a piece of paper into my hand.

  “What?”

  She darted past me, ran out the door, and down the dock, curls bobbing behind her. I opened the folded blue paper. A maze-like drawing of different shapes and lines covered the page. How sweet. She had given me one of her pictures because I gave her one of mine. I refolded the paper and tucked it in my front jeans pocket.

  I caught the rest of what Eric was saying. “… We know it’s haunted—that’s why we’re going—but a few stories of undocumented ghosts shouldn’t freak people out. Why won’t anyone except you take us there?”

  Frank laughed from deep in his gut. “Cityshitters. Y’all never hear the truth. But I’ll tell ya, and I won’t charge ya extra for it neither.” He used his tongue to flip the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “It all boils down to this: it ain’t safe. Bad things happen there. Bad things. Evil things. And after those kids’ accident a few months ago … well, everyone wishes the place would burn.”

  “Accident? What accident?” Daniel flipped through his notebook of dog-eared papers. “I don’t have any mention of an accident.”

  “Of course ya don’t. No one wants to talk about it. One fella died and another ended up in a coma. Since they can’t answer questions, nobody knows what happened. It all got swept into the water, washed away and forgotten.”

  Great. The place sounded more and more delightful.

  2

  It took the guys forever to load all their equipment and junk into the boat, then we finally left. I turned and spotted Amelia leaning against a bare tree on the rocky shore. I waved, and she waved back, flapping her fingers over her palms. The wind snapped my hair across my face. I pushed it aside and glanced at where Amelia had stood.

  She was gone. I swept the trees and the docks and the rocks. Gone. I stared at the empty spot under the tree until we sped away.

  The wind knifed my cheeks and sliced through my hoodie. I tightened my abs, trying to fight the shakes that were on the verge of making me look like even more of a dork. I should have brought a coat. Who knew it would be this frickin’ cold at the end of March? It was nowhere near this icy in Pittsburgh.

  “Sam—here—wear my jacket.” Daniel handed me his coat, and when I slipped it on, the scent of his woodsy cologne warmed me more than a steaming hot, double-mocha latte.

  “Thanks.” I needed to keep my mind from thoughts of Daniel. Of how awesome his coat smelled and how Dad would approve of his manners, but not the fact he was twenty-six, so I focused on the scenery.

  The water glistened a deep sapphire, and the homes on private islands looked like they should be in glossy magazines. They were postcard-perfect McMansions, and I bet they all cost over a million dollars. Boat after boat passed us, then the farther we went, the boat traffic dropped off until we were alone.

  I got lost in the hypnotic roll of the boat cutting through the water and didn’t notice it had turned until Frank hollered, “There she is.”

  The dark shadowed island rose from the watery depths. My weeklong prison away from home. Away from safety, security, sanity.

  “Holy shit, what’s up with the trees?” Eric reached for a camcorder, knocking it out of the bag and onto the boat’s floor.

  I caught it before it rolled into a puddle and handed it to him.

  “Thanks.” Eric clicked on the power and started filming. “Are you guys seeing this? So cool, and we’re not even on-site yet.”

  His excitement was infectious, and I smiled for the first time on this adventure.

  But my smile disappeared when I spotted the mammoth trees with their coal-colored leaves, covering half the island. “How do those trees have leaves already? It sure isn’t spring here.”

  Eric panned the camera. “And why are they black?”

  “Those ain’t leaves.” Frank spun his toothpick.

  The blackness lifted from the trees and swirled into the air. Birds. Thousands of black birds swarmed the blue sky above the island, blanketing it with darkness. They flew to the right, and as if working from a choreographed routine, the entire flock changed direction. Squawks filled the air and rose to an almost deafening level. They swooped toward us like a large black hand reaching out to grab our small boat. Closer and closer they came, making the sky darker and darker. The nearer they got, the more sunlight they blocked. I covered my head but kept my eyes on the birds.

  “Dude, they’re coming right at us,” someone yelled, the “us” screeching soprano.

  “Hang on.” Frank spun the wheel.

  The boat banked hard to the right, knocking me from the seat and onto the damp floor. Wetness crept into the back of my thighs and butt. I struggled to stand. The boat lurched again, and I slammed forward, landing on my right knee.

  The birds dove at us like an army of kamikaze pilots.

  I heard someone scream and was sure I had been the one to make the high-pitched, scared-as-shit sound.

  The swarm overtook the boat. I closed my eyes and ducked.

  “Holy fu—”

  I looked up. The mass of birds wheeled around. The scent of dried leaves and old musty basements swirled through the air. The birds torpedoed down. They were close enough to touch. Close enough that I could see their beady eyes blink. Close enough to peck me in the head if they wanted. We were caught in a cyclone of feathers and talons.

  Eric and Daniel each held a hand over my head while they crouched and filmed with their camcorders. Randall kept one hand on the railing and the other on his camera.

  A heaviness gripped my body like I was drowning in the air. Panic crushed my chest. My throat tightened. I tried to swallow. Dizziness fogged my brain. I couldn’t think, couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. I was going to die. We were all going to die a crazy bird ap
ocalyptic death.

  I clutched my chest. I needed air.

  “Shoo. Go away.” Frank pulled out a flare gun and fired into the birdnado.

  They flew out of sight. The sky turned blue again. Oxygen rushed into my lungs, and the sea breeze whisked away the smothering sensation. I rubbed my throat and glanced at the guys high-fiving each other.

  Frank was the only other person who seemed weirded out by the birds. The flare gun shook in his hand.

  Eric helped me up. I crawled back into my seat and took long, deep breaths. In and out. In and out. It was okay. Everybody had seen the birds, not just me.

  “Man, that was so cool. Please tell me someone recorded the awesomeness?” Randall shifted the tight lifejacket he wore and held up his camera. “I missed the epic swarm.”

  “I got it. Think they were ravens?” Eric’s voice sank into TV mode. “You know, harbingers of sorrow and death.”

  Daniel banged his fist on the seat cushion. “Imagine the teaser commercials of the episode showing the birds. Ratings will skyrocket.”

  “That’s it.” Frank shoved the flare gun into a side compartment. “I’m outta here.” He turned the boat away from the island. “It ain’t worth it.”

  Eric grabbed the railing. “What? We paid you to take us to the island. We’re not leaving.”

  “The hell we ain’t,” Frank yelled, all traces of his drawl gone.

  “We’ll double your money.” Eric held on with one hand and filmed the island with the other.

  Frank cut the engine. The boat slowed and bobbed in the water. No one said anything, but everyone stared at Frank.

  He ran his hands across his balding head. “That much money could fix a lot of problems.” Frank looked at the island and mumbled something that sounded like a long string of curses. Then he turned the key and spun the wheel, aiming the boat back at the castle.

  Daniel grinned and a dimple dotted the left side of his cheek. “The birds are a good sign we’re in for one hell of a week.”

  “They were creepy.” I wanted—needed—to get off the boat and get rid of the bull’s-eyes I pictured on our backs.

  Eric turned to me and moved one eyebrow up and down. “Are you okay? Did the little birdies scare you?”

  I forced myself to laugh at his goofy expression, like everything was normal. “I’m good. Just wet and cold.” The birds had freaked me out, but it wasn’t something I planned on admitting.

  The castle loomed dark and gray, like a medieval fortress. Turrets guarded the stone structure at every corner. Winged gargoyles glared down with ominous sneers. Frigid air leeched into every exposed surface of my skin.

  I stood and pulled the sleeves of Daniel’s jacket over my trembling hands. Shivers rolled through me. The wetness had soaked through my jeans and into my underwear. The only thing worse than wearing wet jeans and underwear was wearing freezing cold wet jeans and underwear. I turned so Daniel wouldn’t notice, tried to tug the material away from my butt, and failed.

  The boat glided through the water and banged into the dock, knocking me into the faux-leather seat. Frank tied off the boat.

  I grabbed my backpack and forced myself to get out. I was glad to be off the dinghy of doom, but now I was stuck on the isolated island.

  The men stepped onto the dock. Eric and Daniel turned on their camcorders.

  “Welcome to Shadow Island and Defiance Castle.” Daniel waved at the massive stone structure like a park ranger guide. “The most haunted place in the Thousand Islands, all of New York, and maybe the United States. And our home for the next seven days.”

  “Let the investigation begin.” Eric stepped in front of Daniel’s camera. “I’m Eric York. Take a trip into the darkness as Horrors & Hauntings investigates Defiance Castle.” He shifted into his deep show voice. “Built at the turn of the century during the time of the wealthy land, bank, and railroad barons, Defiance Castle has seen its share of misery, neglect, torture, and death.”

  Eric used his own camera to film the structure, panned to the water and then to the boat. He clicked the camera off and tried to hand it to Randall.

  “Dude, gimme a minute.” Randall struggled to remove the four-times-too-small orange lifejacket. The jacket clashed with his short orangish-red mohawk. He tugged on the straps straining across his belly. It took him a good two minutes to get it off. He tossed it toward the boat. Frank caught it without flinching. “Stupid thing.” He laughed and took the camera. “God, I hate boats.”

  Eric slapped him on the back. “At least you didn’t drown.”

  Randall shook his head. “Hey, man. Don’t joke about drowning. I can’t swim. I thought for sure we were goners when the birds swooped.”

  Daniel lifted a large box. His biceps flexed, and I noticed the goose bumps dotting his prominent veins. I took another deep whiff of his cologne, then slipped off his jacket and held it out to him. “Thanks.”

  “You can keep it if you’re still cold.” He set the box on the dock.

  I so wanted to keep the jacket, just to continue smelling his cologne, but I couldn’t. He shouldn’t become an icicle because I didn’t think to pack something warm. “Thanks, but it’s not as cold off the water.”

  Daniel shoved his arms inside the coat and left it unzipped. “I wish I had been able to spend my high school spring break here. This place is perfect.”

  Threats of snow, gray skies, crazy birds, ancient castle, and freaky feelings. I rolled my eyes, but no one told me to stop like my mom always did. The perfect vacation. Lucky me.

  Eric and Randall took black case after black case off the boat.

  “And there’s the matter of my extra money.” Frank shot a quick glare at the sky and held out his hand. “I’ll be back Saturday at noon. If y’all aren’t ready, it ain’t my problem. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya about coming here.”

  Daniel gave another stack of bills to the captain. “And there’s more for the others we discussed.”

  Frank shoved the money in his pocket, then handed the last case to Daniel. “Yeah. I’ll bring ’em. But that’s it.” Frank looked up again.

  I didn’t know or care what Daniel and Frank were talking about. I needed a few minutes alone. I would be fine, normal. No one would find out I was wacko. I hooked my sleeping bag on my rolling suitcase. “I’ll meet you guys at the front door.”

  “Okay.” Eric nodded and stacked two boxes on the dock.

  I tried to convince myself this week on the creeptacular island might even be fun. I could watch the guys try to find ghosts in antique cabinets filled with dust bunnies. Yeah, that would be awesome.

  The wheels of my suitcase bumped and banged, making the trek up the cobblestone path take forever. I stopped at an iron gate blocking my way. A wooden sign hung on the rusted metal, but whatever it had once said was now obscured by red spray paint telling me to “stay out.”

  Ignoring the warning, I pushed open the gate. The iron groaned, sending a wave of shivers across my skin. The sound was straight out of a cheesy horror movie, and I was sure the guys would add it to the show.

  I walked forward, passing trees of different sizes and pots with withered, blackened flowers, but the grass wasn’t overgrown or neglected. I searched for more of the crazy birds, but they’d moved on.

  The gray stone building dwarfed my school and resembled a scary cross between Dracula’s castle and Hogwarts. All was cold and dark. The multi-level roofs were weathered and worn. Various other buildings, constructed in the same style, poked out from behind evergreen trees. Not a cheery place.

  I walked to a ten-foot tall fountain with a statue of a woman. The structure stood in the middle of the cobblestone circle atop an ornate carved stone base. She held her arms straight out from her sides, with her palms pointing down. If the fountain worked, I was sure water would fall from her hands. I let go of my suitcase and stepped closer. Her expression was strange. I couldn’t tell if it was one of pain or pleasure. The sun highlighted golden flecks all along her arms. Coul
d she be made out of gold? I moved closer and stuck my head under one of the lady’s palms.

  Drops of liquid dripped from her hand onto my face. I froze. The warm liquid slid down my cheek. I took a step back and wiped it away. Red covered my fingers. I glanced at the fountain.

  Blood poured from her palms.

  3

  Bright red, thick, foul-smelling blood rained from the fountain. My stomach plunged, and I gagged.

  “Holy shit.” I stumbled back, scrubbing at my face. Oh, God, it was all over me. I rubbed my cheeks harder, then stared at my hands. They were clean. What the hell? I blinked and checked them again. Still normal and blood-free.

  I took another step back. Something caught the back of my leg. I fell and landed hard on my butt. My backpack slid up my back and smacked me in the head. “Ow!”

  “Are you okay?”

  “What?” I turned.

  Daniel ran up the path.

  “Yeah.” No. I wasn’t even close to okay.

  I spun back to the statue. Dry. No red on her palms. No pool of blood at her base.

  I took three deep breaths and tucked my hair behind my ears. Closing my eyes, I pictured myself drawing a river and all the effed-up crap flowing away. I didn’t need my insanity switch flipped now, here.

  My heart banged against my ribs. I opened my eyes and pushed on my temples, hoping I wouldn’t get an after headache. But tingling spidered out across my forehead. I had to hide it. I couldn’t let anyone see anything was wrong. I shoved my shaking hands under my thighs.

  Daniel stopped in front of me. “What happened?”

  Act normal. “I tripped over my bag.”

  He set his cases on the cobblestone. “You’re good?” He held his hand out and helped me up.

  I pulled my damp palm away before he noticed how spooked I was. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  Crap. Crap. Crappity-crap. Damn it all to hell. There went my five-month record. Five glorious months of not seeing anything. Now, all the old fears and worries rushed to the surface. I’d seen the TV shows, read the books.