by Norah Wilson
He snorted. “What? You thought this meant we were going to get back together? That it meant anything? That we’d go to the Halloween dance together and slow dance in the auditorium?” His eyes turned hard. “That was last year, Brooke. Before you went home for the summer and spread your legs for somebody else. Well, this is a new year, and I have a new girlfriend.”
His words lashed at her, flaying her to the bone. She wanted to explain. I was lonely. I was angry at my mother for assuming the worst. Dammit, I was hurt. He said he cared about me, and I thought it would make me feel better, at least for a while, but it didn’t. It made me feel like shit. But she’d die before she told him any of that, because he’d made her feel like shit too.
She lifted her chin. “Ah, the ego smarts over that, doesn’t it? Well, I’m here to tell you, it’s a good thing I did. Otherwise I might be standing here, not knowing what a sorry excuse for a lover you are, Seth. I might have thought this was all there was to it.”
His face darkened like a thunderous black cloud. “Get out of here, right now! And don’t come back. I mean it, Brooke. If you turn up here again, I’ll set Dad’s Dobermans on you.”
Brooke smiled. Oh, she’d be back again. And again and again, until she’d made him pay sufficiently for this. For rejecting her, humiliating her. Dammit, for breaking her heart. But when she came back, she wouldn’t have to worry about dogs. Or anything else.
“Fine. I’m going.”
And she did go, for a while. She drove into town and had supper while darkness fell. When it was full dark, she made her way back to the Walkers’, parking her grey Intrigue on the shoulder a few hundred yards down the road. Then she crept onto their property, careful to be as quiet as she possibly could. Though if she were discovered, she’d just say she’d lost an earring in the barn when she and Seth had all that wild sex earlier. Ha! Let him explain that to his parents!
She slipped past the house without detection—not even the Dobermans stirred in their kennel—and opened the barn door. The horses lifted their heads and snuffle/snorted a greeting. She spoke quietly to each of them for a moment, then unlatched their stall doors and pulled them open. One gelding took the opportunity to leave his stall to join the mare in the next box, but the others were content to stay where they were. They knew it was nighttime, and none of them wanted to venture out of their safe, warm stalls. Which was a good thing, because as she walked away, she left the barn door propped ajar.
Chapter 16
Out About
Maryanne
They didn’t really need the candles anymore. They could all find their way around the attic blindfolded. But behind the closed door, Maryanne lit each of the thick white candles anyway—one by one. First Brooke’s then Alex’s and finally her own. Somehow those small flames were part of it now. Part of the ritual.
But as she lit the candles, she did so with a shaky hand.
She knew that trembling would soon settle, once she cast out. So would her jangling nerves. And this time, it was she who led the group up the attic stairs.
“You’ve already been up here! Alone!” Alex said, unable to keep the accusation from her tone as she looked at the arrangement of pillows on the moonlit floor. It was an amazing full-moon night, the brightest so far.
And yes, Maryanne had been up here earlier in the day, after pilfering a few extra pillows from the storage room below. She’d landed hard on her elbow the last time she’d cast out; that wouldn’t be happening this time.
Before she had a chance to answer Alex, Brooke jumped in.
“Get over it, Alex. We’ve all been up here alone. You included.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Yeah, but nothing.”
Alex didn’t sputter; but she did narrow her dark eyes as she glared at Brooke.
Of course, Brooke spoke the truth. Though the three girls had made a pact to only cast out together—one that even reckless Brooke seemed to realize was necessary—they’d all ventured up here on their own. Just the other morning, as she was padding down the hall to the bathroom, Maryanne had come across a startled, white-faced Alex, sneaking back through the attic door. She’d been holding something tightly in her arms as they’d passed. Maryanne figured it must be something of Connie’s Alex had found up there, or at least something she associated with Connie. She’d wanted to ask, but Alex was so weirdly possessive about Connie, she just let it go.
And when she herself had quietly crept up the stairs earlier this evening, she’d found Brooke there already. Brooke hadn’t seen her. Maryanne had been about to call out, but something told her not to. Instead, she sat down, three steps from the top, leaned forward and spied over the edge of the floor.
Brooke had stood before the window. Her hands pressed to the cool, day-lit glass. Her forehead bent toward it.
“Bastards. Rotten, hurtful... bastards! Users. Every one of them.” Brooke’s voice had been heavy with tears and Maryanne had backed down the stairs slowly so as not to be heard. Later, as they’d rushed through their homework—rushed being a major understatement—Brooke had suddenly announced that she wouldn’t be going home for the American Thanksgiving after all.
She’d complained all through the Canadian one. Too early in the calendar year. Too much grease in the gravy. And what the hell was up with Canadian football—three downs instead of four? At least then she’d actually been looking forward to a long-weekend at home in New York for the American Thanksgiving in November. But now her plans had been canceled. Her mom and new husband were heading to Vermont to spend the holiday with his folks. She wouldn’t be. And though she proclaimed it a Godsend not to be included in the gathering at Herr Kommandant’s family homestead, Maryanne knew that had to hurt. Yet that wasn’t the only thing eating away at Brooke. Maryanne could almost swear to it.
“The diary, Alex?” Brooke asked as they moved toward the center of the room.
They’d not ventured into Connie’s book in a few days. Not since Alex had read to them about the old dog, Sugar, and Ira Walker and that terrifying shriek. And of course in that reading, the girls had learned the legend of the Mansbridge Heller.
“No. No reading tonight,” Alex answered.
“Why not?” Maryanne protested. “You can’t keep it to yourself.”
“I know. But we’re just not reading tonight. Tonight... let’s just soar.”
“I’m good with that,” Brooke said.
Maryanne felt the niggling of relief, and almost sighed with it. She just wanted it to happen. She just wanted to cast out. Get away from everything. Get that blessed reprieve. And stop the thoughts about Jason.
No, that wasn’t quite right. The thoughts of Jason never stopped. But casting... distanced them. Yeah, that was the right word. When she was out there, the grief and pain seemed so far away somehow. Which was why she was so impatient to cast out again and again. She found herself constantly distracted, even in school, as she counted down the hours—the minutes—till night fell. Her marks were dropping. Only slightly so far, but enough that she wasn’t looking forward to that mid-term report.
One by one, the girls set the candles on the dresser. Tonight, Alex added the fourth one—secured in the candleholder that had been Connie’s. Alex had showed it to them just this evening, explaining she’d found it in the attic a few days ago. Maryanne presumed that’s what Alex had been cradling so secretively when they’d crossed paths that night in the hall.
“That bottom drawer’s ajar!” Brooke suddenly said. “I’m sure it wasn’t like that last time we were here. Do you think someone else was up here?”
Maryanne could practically feel Alex panicking beside her. Weakening almost. As if her knees were giving out, as if she had a secret.
“I was up here, Brooke,” Maryanne lied. “Just poking around.”
“Find anything interesting?” Brooke bent to examine the drawer herself.
“Just cobwebs.”
Brooke straightened and immediately brushed her hands on her jeans
as if they were suddenly covered in cobwebs. She stared at Maryanne. “Would you tell me if you did find anything?”
“Of course I would,” Maryanne said, and not without a stab of guilt.
“I was up here too.”
Surprised, Maryanne shot a quick glance at Alex.
“That’s when I found Connie’s candleholder,” she continued. “Right there.” She gestured toward the dresser. “Bottom drawer. I’m pretty sure I’m the one who left it ajar.”
“Of course,” Maryanne said. “That makes sense.” Except if the explanation was truly that easy, why had Alex freaked when Brooke noticed the dresser?
Brooke turned toward the window. “Let’s do this,” she said.
Alex joined Brooke quickly, but Maryanne was slower to follow. As usual, Alex wasn’t telling the whole story. No doubt she had found the candleholder in the drawer. But maybe she’d found something else? Something she wasn’t ready to talk about?
Well, that was a question for another day. Right now, Maryanne couldn’t wait to get out of her body.
The three girls positioned themselves at the window. With the brightness of the moon outside, the Madonna’s eyes seemed almost alive as they gazed into them. Her smile seemed mysterious now, with the stronger illumination. Maryanne felt a pang for her, the beautiful Madonna who bled amongst the thorns. Yet there was a strength in the way she stood, holding on to that baby. Like Maryanne should have held onto Jason.
Maryanne wet her lips. This was it. She was ready. All that pain—all the guilt—was about to recede again.
“I want out.” She was the first to say it, but the other two girls joined in the next time, then all repeated the phrase.
Maryanne was first to cast out. She realized herself outside, realized her body on the floor again with complete co-consciousness. Simultaneously, she noticed Brooke and Alex were still in the house. She tried to reach. As her body flopped a hand on the floor, Alex’s head almost jerked sideways to observe it—as if she caught herself mid-motion—yet she never broke the ‘I want out’ chant.
Within seconds, Brooke was beside her.
What’s taking Alex so long? Maryanne wondered. Didn’t she feel the same elation when she was out here? Didn’t she feel this wonderful sense of... freedom?
Cast Brooke spoke, echoing Maryanne’s thoughts. “What the hell is holding her back?”
Then Alex was there with them.
“In a hurry, Saunders?” she asked, even as she glanced inside at their fallen bodies sprawled on the pillows.
Maryanne laughed. “I know I am! In a hurry, that is.” She felt it already. The pull of it, and she moved out quickly from Harvell House, then surged forward again to rejoin Alex and Brooke.
“God, can’t you just feel it? Feel the night all around you?” Maryanne laughed, knowing the answers her roomies—her casting sisters—would give. That too was almost a mantra now, part of the ritual.
“The night is ours. We own it!”
Maryanne turned left, then right, to watch Brooke and Alex soaring beside her over the river again. Their shimmering edges helped them see each other, as did the peculiar brightness of their cast vision. But Maryanne trusted the world would see only their black, empty silhouettes. Yet with the moon so bright tonight, the darkness of their casts would stand out.
The mind was a funny thing. On a dark night, anyone who caught a fleeting glimpse of their casts would rub their eyes. Put down their drinks and say they should call it a night. A trick of the mind. That was their ally on most dark nights. But on this bright night? It was late, well past midnight, and most people in this sleepy town would be... well, asleep. But still, they’d have to be careful.
Alex spoke, jarring Maryanne from her thoughts.
“Where are you heading, Brooke?”
They were down the river quite a ways, near an old covered bridge. But instead of swooping under it, over it, or even going right through the old wooden sides, Brooke suddenly turned onto the road. Automatically, Maryanne corrected her course to follow. The idea of Brooke out there on her own clearly didn’t sit any better with Alex than it did with Maryanne, because Alex followed, too.
“Brooke?” Maryanne said sharply.
“I have a surprise for both of you.” Brooke’s voice told Maryanne she was smiling, devilishly. “An adventure!”
Maryanne knew she should protest. Just as Alex was currently doing in a half-assed way, especially as she realized Brooke was leading them toward the Walker Farm. But frankly Maryanne didn’t feel like protesting. Not even a little bit. Which brought home again just how different she felt out here. It wasn’t just that the grief was set aside when she cast out. Not just the flesh suit back on the attic floor. Other parts of her psyche seemed to compartmentalize themselves away too. Like the fear. The inhibitions.
She saw a Volvo on the road below her.
They were on the Old Road—a narrow road dotted with a very few mailboxes and darkened houses set back from it. And it wasn’t just anyone’s Volvo puttering below her. It was Mr. McKenzie’s. She recognized it from the teachers’ parking lot, where she’d seen McKenzie climbing into it many days after school. She’d even made the mistake of waving to him one day when their paths had crossed in the parking lot, early in the school year. Of course, that was before she’d known what a total jerk he really was. Before he’d sent along the extra math homework when she’d taken that sick day.
Maryanne descended.
“What are you doing?” Alex called.
Brooke hadn’t turned around.
Maryanne laughed. “Small detour.”
“Oh shit, that’s Mr. McKenzie!” Alex said. “But why is he going so slow?”
“Good question.”
They dropped down, but not too far. Still high enough to avoid detection. They found they could easily follow in the vehicle’s wake, but only because it was going so slow. The reason for McKenzie’s snail-like pace soon became apparent.
“He’s drunk!” Maryanne cried.
Alex pulled closer to the slightly-weaving vehicle. “A little, probably,” Alex agreed. “But not completely wrecked, or he’d be all over the place. He’s probably just impaired enough to drive with extreme deliberation.”
“Or maybe he’s stoned?”
Alex laughed. “Now that sounds even more likely. He probably thinks he’s flying along.”
Maryanne felt her own smile widening. “I’m going to mess with him a little.”
“Maryanne! You devil, you,” Alex said admiringly.
Maryanne laughed.
“Want some help?” Alex offered. “I have a little more experience at this stuff.”
“Oh no. He’s all mine.” Maryanne put on a burst of speed.
”Don’t get caught!” Alex called after her.
“I won’t.”
She wouldn’t. It wasn’t like she was going to confront the man. Wasn’t about to move through his car, hover over the passenger seat and pull his hair in a Brooke-esque move, though the thought had crossed her mind. All she wanted to do was... Scare the hell out of him.
She pressed harder for more speed. When she’d overtaken the car, she calibrated her speed with his, then descended so that she was right in front of his windshield, hopefully obscuring his view.
The Volvo braked sharply and swerved right, moving partially onto the graveled shoulder. Then McKenzie overcorrected, and the car shot across the road onto the left hand shoulder where it spun out in the gravel and came to rest in a shallow ditch. Maryanne soared up again. From her perspective up above, she saw the passenger door fly open. Below, McKenzie turned the air blue with his curses, and from the hissing noise his vehicle was making, she figured he must have busted his radiator. Laughing triumphantly, Maryanne melted back into the trees so McKenzie wouldn’t see her.
“Maryanne Hemlock!” Alex said as she joined up with Maryanne again. “Way to school that bully! I didn’t know you had it in you.”
She grinned. “Neither did I.�
��
When they caught up to Brooke, Alex filled her in.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to buzz his car?” Brooke complained. “I’da helped.”
“Thanks, but it was personal.”
“I can understand that,” Brooke allowed.
Within minutes they were over the Walker Farm. The large, sprawling home was in darkness, as was the yard. As the girls neared, the Dobermans cowered in their kennel, whining softly instead of raising an alarm.
“No way are you going after Seth again, Brooke!” Alex said, and Maryanne was quite ready to back her up. But Brooke wasn’t making a beeline for the house. In fact, she was heading in the other direction.
Her laugh was bitter. “Don’t worry, Seth isn’t part of this plan.”
“You’re done with him?” If she was, Maryanne was glad to hear it.
“Done with him?” Brooke answered. “I’ve only just begun with Seth Walker.”
“Oh crap, Brooke!” Alex said. “What are you up to?”
Brooke headed toward the horse barn. “I told you I had a surprise. I promised an adventure, didn’t I? Getting back at Seth is just the proverbial icing on the cake.”
“Okay,” Maryanne asked, “just what then is the cake?”
Brooke slipped into the barn, moving right through the barn’s wall. The horses took note of her presence immediately, as evidenced by their shrill whinnies. Maryanne and Alex looked at each other, then with a shrug, followed.
“There, there, good horsies,” Brooke was saying. “We’ll ride you carefully.”
Oh, poor horses. Maryanne could feel the cold fear rippling off them. Usually it was the other way around. She’d taken a few riding lessons back in Burlingtion. A couple of her friends had been absolutely horse crazy, so she’d tried her hand at it and sucked. The animals sensed her fear and had no respect for her. But right now, respect was not an issue. They were absolutely terrified of her! She should feel bad about that. She knew she should, but somehow she didn’t feel bad enough to leave.
“What the hell are you doing?” Alex called.