On the other hand, she was certain that she was very close to finding whatever it was the ghost was leading her to. Turning back now would make the whole trip thus far pointless, and Pru knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep without knowing the spirit’s final destination. There had to be a reason behind all of this. The ghost wouldn’t go through all this trouble if it didn’t have a specific purpose in mind.
Just a few more minutes, she thought. I’ll give it just a few more minutes. After that, she would hightail it back to the beach house and hope that her absence hadn’t yet been discovered. Pru doubted she would be that lucky, but she could use the time on the return trip to come up with a believable excuse. I was chasing seagulls, Mom. Then it started to rain and I came straight back. That might work in a pinch, but she could doubtlessly come up with something better if given a little more time.
She came to a sudden halt as she realized that the ghost had stopped moving. It was still on the beach, standing or hovering or whatever ghosts do when they’re not flitting about. The spirit had stopped directly in front of a large beach house, and it seemed to be staring at the building, though it was hard for Pru to tell for sure from that distance.
Pru regarded the house with a curious frown. It was a nice house, as far as she could tell from her limited experience with such structures. It was certainly larger than her aunt and uncle’s house, and it was closer to the pier, so that had to be a plus. It was not, however, dark or creepy or haunted-looking by any stretch of the imagination. Even on a day as dismal as this, the house looked warm and inviting.
Pru looked back at the ghost. It hadn’t moved. It just stood there like a silent, semi-transparent sentinel. It flickered out of sight every so often, only to reappear in the exact same spot, facing the house.
It dawned on her that she was expected to take some kind of action. Maybe the spirit wanted Pru to go into the house. That was the most logical assumption; however, it could be that the ghost simply wanted her to wait and watch, just as it was doing. Pru shook her head, flinging droplets of water from her damp hair. She didn’t have time for the waiting game. If her mother wasn’t already on the warpath, she soon would be. Besides, she was beginning to get chilled. She wasn’t properly dressed for ghost hunting in a monsoon.
No, it was either go and check out the house or head back; those were the only options available to her. It would be smarter to leave while there was still the faint possibility that she wouldn’t spend the rest of her vacation grounded, but a sudden thought caused her to pause and turn back toward the house. What if someone inside were hurt and needed help? Could that be why the ghostly figure had led here? If so, she would feel pretty bad later, finding that someone had suffered or died and realizing that she might have been able to do something to prevent it.
Pru looked back the way she had come, then back at the house, and finally at the silent ghost. Heaven forbid that anything supernatural would just come out and tell you what it wanted. At times, it was fun and intriguing to solve such a mystery. Right now, it was just a pain in the ass.
She had pretty much made up her mind to walk up to the house and knock on the door when she noticed the singing. Soft and lulling, it was barely audible over the surf and rain. Had it just started, or had it been there all along? She thought about it and realized that she wasn’t sure. She scanned the area for its source and saw nothing. Perhaps it was coming from inside the house. She tilted her head, trying to hone in, but it was impossible to tell exactly where it was coming from. Surely the ghost wasn’t singing? Pru turned to look at the spirit and was stunned to see that it had vanished. She started to scan the beach and stopped when something in the water caught her eye.
Two forms bobbed in the water just beyond the breaking waves. To Pru, it looked as if she were seeing the heads and shoulders of two people, though the waves and rain conspired to shroud the figures and defeat any hope of positive identification. One thing was positive, however: Pru didn’t like the feeling she got looking at them. It was a dark and foreboding sensation, more akin to encountering a demon than a ghost.
As the ghost had done earlier, the figures appeared to be staring at the beach house. Pru wasn’t certain, but she thought that the singing was coming from the pair in the ocean, as well. She looked back at the house, her concern growing for its occupants. She didn’t yet have a full grasp on what was happening, or what was about to happen, but she felt that it was going to be bad.
Maybe she should wait just a little longer. Just a little longer.
***
After reading the same sentence of the article four times and still failing to comprehend it, Nan slammed the magazine down on the table. Frustrated, she rubbed her eyes and shook her head to clear out the cobwebs. What was wrong with her? It was the middle of the day, for crying out loud. She didn’t feel sleepy, but she did not feel entirely alert, either. She often felt this way when she had a bad cold—foggy and thick-headed. Other than her total inability to concentrate, however, she felt fine.
She stood, intending to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, but stopped suddenly when she realized that she was humming to herself. That, in itself, was not highly unusual; she often hummed or sang to herself while doing housework or bathing. The strange thing was that she didn’t recognize the tune.
While Nan had a good business head on her shoulders, she was about as creative as a rock. She was as incapable of composing an original song as she was sprouting wings and taking flight. She must have heard the tune somewhere earlier, and it had simply stuck in her head. Again, though, this was odd, because Nan generally favored upbeat songs as opposed to sad, melancholy lilts such as this.
She stopped humming, but the eerie tune continued to drift through the room. Nan suddenly remembered the singing she’d heard earlier while out on the deck. It was the same song, for sure, but how in the hell was she hearing it inside her house with the doors and windows shut? With the pouring rain and crashing waves, it should have been impossible. Unless whoever was singing was standing right next to her house.
That thought made Nan uneasy. Suppose that the someone in question had not been content to stand out in the rain? She had left the front door unlocked in anticipation of McCoy’s arrival; anyone might have slipped in unnoticed while she was preoccupied with her housework or reading her magazine. She didn’t think McCoy would have come in unannounced. Besides, she’d heard the singing earlier.
Nan walked to the sliding glass doors that led to the deck and slid them open. The wind was starting to pick up, and a few stray raindrops stung her cheeks as she peered into the storm. Lightning danced across the distant horizon, and the faint sound of thunder rolled in with the advancing waves. She listened at first, her eyes cast down at her feet, but she was unable to pinpoint the exact source of the singing. It seemed to come from everywhere, seeping from the clouds and water and wind simultaneously.
Lifting her eyes to scan the beach, Nan spotted the figures in the surf. She didn’t once consider that they might actually be people; she knew at once that they were the same shadowy beings she had seen in the water before. Up until now, there had been only one. Now, there were definitely two. One appeared to be slightly smaller than the other, but the difference in size was not enough to make her think of an adult and a child. Rather, it put her more in the mind of a male and female, though it was impossible to be sure.
Nan expected the foreboding sense of danger to return as she watched the pair in the water, and was only mildly surprised when it did not. Instead, the fogginess inside her head seemed to intensify, and she found herself listening intently to the singing, trying to make out the words. She couldn’t understand them; they were being sung in some foreign language that Nan didn’t understand, but the emotion embedded in the strange syllables was unmistakable. The song conveyed a sense of hopeless longing, a desperate need to fill some unsatisfied desire.
Some small part of her wanted to pull away, to cup her hands over her ears and run screaming
deep into the interior of the house where she might block out all sounds from the outside world. But her body betrayed her, and Nan could do nothing but stand and watch as the larger of the two figures slowly separated from the other and began to make its way toward the beach.
As she watched the figure emerge slowly from the roiling surf, Nan felt an irresistible urge to run out into the storm and onto the beach. Consciously, she knew that it was utter insanity, but her legs would hear none of it, and though she did not run, she slowly stepped out onto the deck and began to descend the steps leading down to the beach.
The wind wailed and tore at her clothes and hair, which were already beginning to get soaked. A brief but violent streak of lightning illuminated the beach, and Nan saw that it was indeed a man rising from the turbulent waters of the ocean. Salty brine dripped from his dark hair and flowed in rivulets down his muscular shoulders and chest. Even from a distance, Nan could see that he was beautiful, perfect in every respect. He was also quite naked, and though this should have shocked and embarrassed her, it only added fuel to her growing unnatural desire.
She reached the final step and, with only the briefest hesitation, stepped onto the sandy expand of beach which led down to the sea. The singing was much louder now, so much so that Nan was no longer aware of the sounds of the crashing waves or the howling wind. Rain and blowing sand stung her eyes, but she refused to take them off the man long enough to blink.
The man strode out of the water, took three or four graceful strides, then stopped. He smiled at Nan, his posture beckoning. In the rapidly-shrinking part of her mind where sanity still held sway, Nan screamed for her body to turn and run. She screamed for McCoy, who was doubtless only minutes away, to come to her rescue. Most of all, though, she screamed for Pete, her precious, sometimes goofy, dead husband, the man she had devoted her life to, and who had devoted his to her in return, until he’d had nothing left to give.
Mindless of those faint protests, Nan began to walk toward the man, her clothes now thoroughly soaked and her hair plastered to her face. She had never before witnessed such beauty nor harbored such an intense, animalistic desire. The world around her shrank until it encompassed nothing more than her and the man; her only desire—her only purpose—was to reach him, to look into his eyes and surrender herself totally. The singing grew louder, more desperate, and her pace quickened. She was just about to pass through the dunes, only moments from reaching her ultimate goal, the only thing that mattered to her, when a shrill cry came from behind her.
“Lady! Hey, Lady!”
Chapter Six
For several minutes, Pru found herself in totally unfamiliar territory: she was speechless. As she watched the events unfolding in front of her, she was blissfully unaware that she was even capable of any kind of vocalization. Then she realized that the woman was about to pass through the dunes and onto the beach where that—thing—was. She knew that it was now or never, and she found her voice.
“Lady! Hey, Lady!”
The woman hesitated, then stopped. Up near the water’s edge, the thing (it was definitely not a man) shifted its gaze to Pru. Its smile vanished, replaced by a look of open hostility which made Pru want to dig a hole in the nearest dune and crawl inside. Whatever this thing was, it was not a ghost, and it was not a demon. Pru would not have thought it possible for an entity to give off fouler vibes than a demon, but this thing was pulling it off with flying colors.
She turned back to the woman, who was standing as still as a statue. At least she was no longer moving toward the thing on the beach, but Pru thought she wasn’t exactly back in the ballgame, either. Though she was loath to go to the woman (for that meant moving closer to the abomination on the beach), Pru darted forward and tugged at the woman’s blouse. Water gushed from the soaked fabric.
“Earth to lady!” Pru hissed. “We need to get out of here! Like, now!”
The woman turned to look at her, and Pru saw that the lady appeared to be sleepwalking. Her eyes were all glassy and unfocused, and her jaw hung slack and partially open. Great. Whatever the thing on the beach was, Pru knew that she herself was no match for it. And now she was being tasked with babysitting a Grandma zombie. Things couldn’t get any worse.
And then they did get worse. Pru took her eyes off the Queen of the Living Dead long enough to glance at the man-thing on the beach, and was horrified to see that he was advancing toward them. Judging from the determination of his stride, he meant business, and he would be upon them in no time at all.
Pru turned back to the woman, who was showing no signs of coming out of her trance-like state. If Pru was unable to get the woman moving—and fast—she was going to have to flee to save her own hide. She didn’t want to have to do that, so she redoubled her efforts, pulling at the woman’s shirt and yelling at her to snap out of it. Try as she might, she wasn’t able to break the spell which held the woman immobilized.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. Pru stepped back and kicked the woman in the shin. She didn’t hold back.
The woman’s eyes instantly focused and grew wide in surprise and pain.
“Ow!”
“That’s better,” Pru said. She grabbed the disoriented woman by the arm. “C’mon, lady. We’re outta here.”
Pru began dragging the woman toward the beach house. The woman didn’t resist, but she wasn’t helping much, either. Pru chanced a look back at the man-thing and saw that he was gaining on them. Unless they ran, they had no hope of making it to the house.
“Who are you?” the woman asked. She sounded irritated. Pru thought that the lady should be a bit more thankful, given the circumstances.
“I’m Pru. How’s your leg?”
“What?”
“How’s your leg?”
“Not broken.”
“Good. Then run.”
“What?”
“Look over your shoulder. But if you freeze up again, I’m leaving you. I swear to God.”
The woman looked back and saw what was pursuing them. In a move that took Pru completely by surprise, the woman ducked low, scooped Pru onto her shoulder, and took off at a sprint toward the house. The whole thing happened so fast that Pru didn’t even have time to object. By the time she’d had a chance to marvel over the woman’s sudden transformation from a walking zombie into Wonder Woman, they were already up the steps and on the deck of the house. The lady dropped Pru back to her feet and looked worriedly toward the beach.
“Inside, child!” she said to Pru. “Hurry!”
Pru dove inside the house with the woman hot on her heels. Once they were both in, the woman shut and locked the sliding glass doors. Under other circumstances, Pru would have felt guilty about dripping water all over a stranger’s hardwood floor, but she was presently more concerned about the thing that had been chasing them.
“Is it still coming?” she asked.
“I can’t tell, it’s raining so hard.” The woman stuck her face to the glass and peered outside. “Wait—shit! I mean, shoot! It’s coming! Run to my bedroom!”
“I don’t know where that is!”
The woman gave her a frightened, confused look. Then it must have dawned on her that Pru had never before been inside the house.
“Follow me,” she said. She took off at a quick walk toward the back of the house. Pru, pausing only long enough for a hurried glance at the doors, followed.
***
“It should be right down here,” McCoy said. “Nan said it was near the pier.”
“I can barely see the road, much less the address markers,” Amanda replied. “Help me look.”
The rain was coming down in torrents. The gusting wind hurled rain, sand, and other debris at the windshield, forcing them to creep along the oceanfront road. Fortunately, no one else was foolish enough to be driving in such weather, and they appeared to be the only vehicle on the road.
At this point of the island, the houses were older and were set farther apart. In good weather conditions, findin
g Nan’s house would have been a fairly easy task. As it was, though, they had to stop in front of each house to inspect the building and grounds for some type of address marker. At their third stop, they found what they were looking for.
“This is it,” Amanda said. “Thank God. Where should we park?”
“There’s a driveway on the right side,” McCoy answered. “Pull in there. We can move the car later if we have to, after the rain slacks off.”
Amanda wheeled into the driveway and shut the engine off. McCoy, his relief at finally having reached their destination palpable, unhooked his seat belt and was about to exit the vehicle when he suddenly stopped, frozen.
“What’s wrong?” Amanda asked, concern in her voice.
“Wait here,” McCoy said, and then he slipped out of the car, into the storm, and was lost from sight.
“Like hell,” Amanda muttered. She hurried her own door open and followed McCoy into the deluge.
McCoy half-trotted, half-limped to the back corner of the house. From this point, the ocean and beach were visible, as well as a portion of the back deck and the steps which led down to the sand. As far as he could see, which wasn’t very far in the current typhoon-like conditions, nothing unusual was moving about.
His senses, however, told him a different story.
Something was here, something foul that he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t a ghost; no human spirit had ever radiated such an evil aura. A demon, maybe? McCoy didn’t think so, but the pouring rain and driving wind served to disorient him and skew his abilities just enough that he couldn’t be certain.
Whatever it was, though, it was close. His immediate concern was for Nan. He needed to make sure that she was all right before doing anything else. If Nan was in no present danger, he could relax and then try to figure out what he was dealing with. He was about to move around the corner of the house and head for the back stairs when something bumped into him from behind. McCoy stifled a scream and jumped a good two feet in the air, nearly a miracle considering his bum leg.
Shadows in the Sand (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller Book 2) Page 5