“Do you know if she kept a journal?” She mentioned she took notes. I bet she had tons of leads on who might be running this hijack for hire ring of corpses.
“I don’t know.” Flynn sounds exasperated. “I hardly spent any time with her.” He swipes clean the jewelry from the top shelf of her desk and tosses it in the bag haphazard.
Jen barrels in and smacks Flynn on the shoulder. “Get out.” She fluffs her hair in the mirror then brushes her teeth with her finger. “The Autumn Sacrament is downstairs in ten. Why aren’t you dressed?” She swats her hand in my direction like she’s sweeping the floor.
“I’m very much clothed.” I pluck at my jeans.
“A dress, Laken,” she yells, disappearing into the closet.
Jen reemerges and tosses a navy blue frock at me that screams get me to a nun right this fucking minute.
I take my cloth-based punishment into the bathroom, and by the time I get out, Flynn has already taken off with his bag of Casper’s things. Death has its way of reducing you to paperbacks and teddy bears—prompting others to cast lots for your garments.
Jen swoops over and places a necklace on me. Thankfully the dress turned out to be much more formfitting than previously anticipated. I could easily get kicked out of any convent in the country wearing this short, tight, tribute to my svelte figure.
“You’re going to outshine all those other girls tonight.” She steps back exposing a thin gold chain that blends into my flesh with a pendant the size of a nickel. A bright blue sapphire surrounded by diamonds floats proud on my chest.
“Thank you.” I finger it a moment. It’s a thing of beauty, a gift from my sister. “It’s beautiful.”
“I know we’re not always close, but I really do love you, Laken.” She wraps her arms around me and gives a light kiss against my cheek.
“You ever talk to Blaine?” I know full well Jen went out to dinner with the douchebag. I hate to pry, but I want to be there for her.
“Unfortunately, I did.” Her eyes narrow in on mine. “He’s not feeling so hot—stomach flu I think.” Her lips curl into a smile when she says it.
“Be careful, that spreads like wildfire,” I say.
“I’m pretty sure that wildfire is well-contained.”
Downstairs in the commons area, the lights are dimmed all the way down. We stand shoulder to shoulder, each holding a tapered candle with a wax circle near the base. It turns out Austen House has its own designer wardrobe. Long navy robes with oversized hoods that crest over the top of our heads.
I lean into Carter. “Someone alert the monastery, the monks are about to make a break for it.”
She gives a choo-choo train laugh that effectively blows out her candle.
“Here,” I offer, holding out my flame.
“Light my fire.” Her eyes light up a brilliant crimson. “Sort of what your brother did for me last night.”
“Eww! TMI, Carter—TMI.”
Kresley leads the procession out the door and into the ice-breathed air with Carter and I holding up the rear. Carter is like a sugared-up three-year-old, wiggling and giggling just begging for a verbal reprimand. Fallon with her perennial look of boredom shuffles alongside us.
“Laken.”
I straighten at the sound.
I recognize that haunted voice. It comes at me in duplicate, and I don’t need a poltergeist roadmap to let me know the Tobias sisters want in on the midnight ritual.
I look back at Fallon to see if she noticed anything. Her dark hair falls over her porcelain skin. Her bloated lips glow a bright fuchsia that commands my attention. Behind her a shadow darts behind Austen House as if ducking out of view.
I fish my cell out of my bra and text Coop, slow and uncoordinated with my left hand.
Creepy shit alert. I hit send and hope he knows what the hell I’m talking about.
A second later. Where?
Then. AH. Nevermind.
A choir of voices breakout in our midst as Jen leads us into some sort of demon-inspired chant. The dew settles over us, coats us with its disapproval for being out at this late hour, and with satanic robes and candles no less.
It’s like we’re trying to insight a supernatural incident. It’s no wonder the Tobias sisters have come out to play—we’ve inadvertently called them.
The girls start in on a song, slow and lustrous. It’s a familiar tune, sounds like Hallelujah but something altogether different in a language I don’t recognize. They chant the same haunting refrain over and over.
I look back, and a glittering illumination catches my attention from the crest of the hill. A pair of thin-railed girls, wearing dirty white dresses, their long hair missing in patches, gape back at me. They each break out in a devilish grimace, and I straighten at the sight.
A scream gets trapped in my throat as I spin back around. They’re trying to freak me out. I’m going to scream like a loon only to have them disappear, and it’ll be me who ends up in a nice padded room at the Flanders estate. Maybe Wes set this up? Maybe deep inside, he wishes Dr. Flanders would zap the shit out of me and reinstate all of my false memories so he could get into my pants already.
We maintain our slow gait as the forest draws near. If Kresley doesn’t form her demonic circle soon, we’ll end up in the Fem diner at rush hour.
Shit.
I tap Carter on the shoulder. “Where we going?”
“Sleepy Hollow.”
“What?”
“The woods,” she hisses back annoyed.
“The woods?” I say a little too loud.
Double shit!
I pluck my phone out of my bra in a hurry and accidently send a stream of molten candle wax down my chest. I let out a deep guttural groan capable of luring an entire tribe of Yetis out from hiding, let alone Fems and Spectators who aren’t opposed to a game of hide and feast.
“Shh!” Jen walks back and gives me the crazy eyes with her finger pressed hard over her lips.
“Got it,” I whisper. I wait until she dissolves ahead into the murky shadows before sending a mass text Flynn, Wes, and Coop. Sleepy freaking Hollow!!!
Of course, I’m heavily relying on the fact the three of them will understand where exactly Sleepy Hollow lies and that it’s not just some cutesy nickname that Carter and one of her many bare assed suitors bequeathed this place.
My cell lights up an iridescent blue.
It’s Wes.
Have fun.
Have fun? Have fun doing what? Getting my neck gnawed off by a swarm of the undead who feel social integration is the next lucrative move in their brain eating endeavors? Clearly he’s insane.
The phone blinks—its Coop. On my way.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
The forest swallows us one by one. The candles dim to nervous quivers in this ebony environment. I follow Carter as we meander for what feels like hours chanting the false hallelujah that I can’t seem to grasp. In essence it sounds beautiful, haunting, like we were on our way to see God—and at this pace, at this place, we just might unwittingly achieve that goal.
“Sisters!” A cry emits from the front. I can’t tell whether or not it’s coming from Kresley. It sounded mature, otherworldly like it came from a distant time.
God—maybe that’s what we’re doing here? Meeting up with the ghosts of Austen House past.
A pair of white clouds settle on either side of me, morphing quickly into a set of Tobias sister bookends.
I try to scream, to gasp, but an invisible stone lodges in my throat, the steel fingers of fear wrap themselves around my neck.
A shiver runs through me as the two long dead girls materialize in their emaciated state. They look like creatures, like things—anything but human. They graze against my flesh igniting an electrical charge in the air. A current sparks from them, waiting to combust. It radiates like heat, licking the dry parched air for a flame. They waft their hands through me as if I were a vapor. A vision begins to play like a reel in my mind. The two of them are
screaming while a pair of strong men sink their teeth into their necks. I can see the clear look of horror on their faces—feel their fear—their pain.
They shoulder up to me on either side as I pull my head back ready to unleash a primal cry.
If I’m going to die tonight in the forest, I’m going down screaming.
54
Haunted
A blinding fog swirls at demonic speeds throughout the forest. The moon glows high above like a memory. It filters through the dark cloaked evergreens impotent and self-serving in contrast to the ring of fire we’ve created, each with our own candle.
Just as I’m about to expel a vocal outburst capable of animating every creature living and dead in the entire state of Connecticut, the Tobias sisters step away. All of my thoughts are my own and I’m no longer plagued by visions of their maddening demise. Instead, they morph into pretty young girls with clean-pressed dresses and well-combed hair that proliferates over their entire scalp.
It’s shallow of me to like them more with their beauty pageant smiles, their semi-bouffant coifs, but let’s call a spade a spade—a ghost is altogether less frightening if he or she can provide its audience with a little eye-candy.
“Tonight we are gathered,” a voice howls from the front, “to celebrate the beginning of another great year at Austen House.”
The questionable leadership of Austen House saw fit to deposit us in the deep end of the Spectator’s swimming pool with no life raft, and no Coop. But thankfully he’s on his way, unlike Wesley who told me to “have fun.” And why in the hell would Wes say that if he’s the one who told me to stay out of the forest to begin with? Does Ms. Paxton know about this yearly midnight jaunt?
“At Austen House it is tradition to partake in the sacred spirits. Sister Jen will come around—one sip—nothing more.”
“Spirits?” I whisper to Carter.
“More like rubbing alcohol. Some mystery crap left behind by the founder.”
“It hasn’t run out?” Supposedly, Austen House is ancient.
“It’s an Austen House miracle,” she says, pierced with ecstasy. Somehow I think she’s reliving her own Austen House miracle, the one that was delivered last night by my brother of all people.
The miracle of the spirits—I find this both laughable and possibly corrosive to my liver.
I watch as Jen holds out a small bottle. The girls push it to their lips and return it in haste, wiping their tongues over their robes to rid the flavor.
Jen steps over to Jax. She reaches into the small wicker basket nestled in her arm and pulls out a vial exclusively for girls who sleep with douchebags named Blaine. Jen’s lips curve into a malevolent smile as she passes the concoction. There’s something sinister about Jen right now, and for a brief moment I think of letting her carry out the potential homicide.
Shit.
How can she so obviously poison Jax? Doesn’t she realize prison is no place for a nice virgin like her? Must she learn everything the hard way?
I leap over to Jax in time to knock the slender urn from her hand, and in turn send both our candles flying. The dry needles that line the forest floor ignite in a rush before pronouncing themselves in a heap like a bonfire. Flames shoot six feet high as if someone left the gas on in the furnace and funneled it in this direction.
A choir of screams breaks out. Candles and girls explode every which way.
Jen catches the back of Jax’s robe and knocks her to the ground just shy of the inferno.
“Jen!” I scream. Forget prison, they’re going to send her straight to the electric chair.
Jax thrashes around with her hair lit up like a birthday candle. She screams with flames shooting over her scalp before sticking her head in the mud and swishing it around like an eraser.
As quick as the fire came, it diminishes to embers, leaving just enough of an orange glow to scar the landscape.
“Laken.” My name carrousels around me in a spiral of insanity.
The smoke and fog intermingle. It blinds me, chokes the breath from my lungs like a pair of strong hands. I tear off the oversized robe. My eyes burn as I fight to keep them open.
The forest changes—the smoke dissipates, dissolving low to the ground, encircling my feet like vaporous snakes. The sky peers through the roof of branches, navy with a frost of glittering stars. It’s as clear as a summer night and this startles me.
The Tobias sisters appear in full bloom—one on either end—nothing but the remnants of a sizzling fire before and after me. The other girls are gone, swallowed by the night, the ground, or something far more sinister. A bird calls in the distance. It echoes through the woods followed by a startling silence.
“Shit,” I pant.
“Laken?” A male voice booms in the distance.
“Coop?” I cough through the residual smoke.
Two shadows run in my direction. They bolt through the haze as thick as clouds—Cooper and Flynn.
Just as they land shy of my feet the ground loosens, and we fall right through.
We land with a thud in what looks like the same place we left. The forest has returned to its natural state, younger trees, less dense than I remember, a perfect clearing in exchange for the charred brush we abandoned. The smoke is replaced with a thin veil of fog. I drink down oxygen like its water as I gasp for air.
“Welcome.” The voice of a girl emits from behind.
I’m more than relieved to be standing beside Cooper and Flynn. I reach over and take up Coop by the hand.
“Hattie,” she introduces herself. She stands tall and pretty with wide almond eyes that hold fragments of light. “My sister, Amelia, doesn’t wish to speak to you.” Her demeanor darkens.
Flynn grabs a hold of my other hand, and I give him a quick look.
“What?” he whispers. “I’m scared.”
“What year is it?” Cooper asks as though he knows it’s not the right one.
“Nineteen fifty three, two weeks three days, and seventeen minutes until my sister and I are taken captive by the vile filthy rags of humanity, those that dare blemish the holy Nephil race—your people, Laken.” She slices the air with her venom. There’s something unnatural about her in general. Something is definitely wrong when you can shape shift and time travel, when your eyes look as though they can unrepentantly suck in the universe at will.
“What do you want?” Cooper takes on the role of mediator. Maybe all they truly want is some male companionship. Maybe they’re just using the time continuum as some speed-dating service. I’ll gladly give them Flynn, but I’m willing to put up a stellar catfight for Coop.
Cooper squeezes my hand and gives a knowing smile.
My face sears the color of a thousand different sunsets at the prospect of Cooper hearing about my feline affection for him.
“Speed dating service? Nonsense, Laken.”
I take in a quick breath.
She can hear my thoughts, and we’re nowhere near touching.
Hattie takes a bold step forward, exposing a pair of white, laced boots from under a full wool skirt that drops past her knees. “We’ve been meaning to introduce ourselves, but we we’re amused by your constant howls of terror.” It’s nice to know they find my vocal outbursts entertaining.
She steps into me. “For whatever reason, the Counts failed to infiltrate your cerebral structure. They wanted to replenish your mind with memories and ideas that never existed. They removed you from your family, planted you in a new one—decided who you will and will not see. The Countenance understands only one thing, the proliferation of their people. Isn’t that right, Flynn?” She turns and takes him in. “Have you enjoyed the benefits and the power that your strength and speed have afforded you on the football field? In the bedroom?”
I glance over as the moon washes him a faint shade of blue. He looks guilty, as if Hattie hit the misuse of superpowers right on the head. Not that I care. Flynn could rain destruction on every football team in the country. Who could really blame him
for implementing those devices? It’s not like steroids are involved. To him speed and strength are natural. Speaking of which, where the hell are mine?
“And you, precious Cooper.” She comes over and cradles his cheek in her hand. It looks sexual, her face enflamed with passion. Hattie’s features are flawless, not one sign of decay, no hollow eyes, no missing teeth. She holds a breathless beauty, sharp as a tack. “You are our brother in every way. Siding with a Count to pry your way into her heart? Why bother with filth when there are perfectly beautiful celestial beings roaming free on the planet?”
Cooper clenches his jaw. It’s taking all of his self-control not to explode. “I don’t know what’s going on or what your intentions are, but we need to get back immediately. You didn’t have a right to take us,” he says it stern, telling them off in the nicest way possible. Although, judging by the fire brewing in Hattie’s eyes, that little reprimand is equivalent to a nineteen fifties bitch-slap.
“You may never speak to me that way.” Her voice renders a cruel edge that ensures he’s crossed a line. “I am your elder, and I am far from finished.” Her words fly like razors. “Let me lay out my intentions for you. Laken—you’re to access the deepest part of their network. Your contribution will be paltry at best.”
“I’m one step ahead of you,” I say. Weird having the same agenda as a dead girl—two dead girls. And I hardly consider my contribution paltry, more like sacrificial because, in the end, it might cost me Wes.
God forbid it cost me Wes.
“Paltry is correct.” She steps in front of me. “You love Wesley. Your affection is forever with him.” Her lips twist in a bow. “But your affection has been divided, and your heart belongs to Cooper.” She narrows her dark eyes over him—licks her lips with a wash of lust. “Don’t trust her Cooper, she turns on you. I’ve seen this.”
I shake my head. “That’s impossible. I would never turn on you, Coop. I swear.” I tighten my grip on him and pull in close until I’m hiding behind him like a coward.
Ephemeral Page 37