by Katie French
I ran back down, heart pounding from both exertion and panic in equal amounts. Bursting through the lighthouse’s door, I glanced right and left as I tried to decide where to look next. Dad hadn’t gone close to the water in a long time due to the steep descent, but I headed that way regardless. A set of mildewed wooden steps took me to the rocky path, which then led to a small patch of sandy beach nestled in the center of the otherwise-rocky terrain. Nausea gripped my stomach at the sign of the empty horizon. I’d known I wouldn’t find him here, but still I felt my insides shatter into a million pieces.
On trembling legs, I made my way back up to the lighthouse. The door was ajar, a big no-no since it was supposed to be locked at all times to avoid vandalism and lawsuits from eager tourists. I walked inside. Succumbing to despair, I collapsed at the bottom of the stairs, my back scraping the wall as my bottom reached the cold stone floor.
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes. What had I done?
The smell of burned kerosene clogged the air. It reminded me of Dad, of sitting on his lap after he’d been servicing the lighthouse and begging him to let me help. A tear threatened to spill down my cheek, but I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes and refused to fall lower than I already had. I would not let Tom, Tara Palmer, or whoever, break me. If they thought I would sit here waiting for them to give me back my father while I cried and did nothing, they had another goddamn thing coming.
With a deep inhale, I rubbed my eyes and blinked through the blurriness. As it cleared, I stared at the wall across from me. Was there something there?
I tilted my head, taking it in like I would one of those 3D hidden images. The ring on my finger grew slightly hot, but instead of letting it distract me, I took the change in temperature as a cue to pay attention.
As I allowed my eyes to become unfocused, a large emblem began to take shape. Markings that had always been on the stones seemed to jump out, depicting an image I was very familiar with.
The intertwined dragons from Mom’s ring!
I stood slowly, afraid to lose my focus. Staring for several minutes, I examined every little detail, hoping for… I wasn’t sure, but something to happen. As the moment stretched and nothing changed, I edged closer, taking measured steps until the image blinked out of existence. I backed up and found it again. Going at it from different angles and distances, I tried to figure out what it could mean.
Had whomever took Dad left this as a warning? Or had it always been there? If so, why hadn’t I seen it before?
At the thought, my gaze snapped to the ring on my finger. Holding my breath, I lifted my unsteady hand toward the wall and pressed it flat against the stone.
The grinding sound of rock against rock filled the space. My gaze darted toward the floor where two of the large slabs in the center of the building were sliding away from each other, revealing a dark hole. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I watched it open like I was in the middle of some Indiana Jones movie.
When the slabs stopped moving, I pulled away from the wall and peered down. An ancient-looking set of stairs led down into darkness. My spine tingled as I considered going down there alone. I threw a furtive glance toward the door. It was still open. That gave me a smidgen of confidence, but not much.
Letting my armor pixies cover me with a protective shell, plus additional reinforcement around my weak knees, I snatched an emergency flashlight from a hook on the wall and clicked it on.
“It’s just an ancient hole in the ground, Lila. What could possibly go wrong?”
I shone the light into the darkness, following the steps. Like the ones that led to the top of the lighthouse, these stairs also twisted around, but leading where? A cellar? The bottom of the lake? A crypt full of bones? I shuddered.
A crossroads, Tara Palmer had said. A time when they can walk away, and everything can stay as pleasant and happy as it once was. Or, instead, they can stick their dirty little noses into something they cannot possibly understand.
What a bitch.
Well, if there was someone I would risk my dirty little nose for, it was Dad. No matter how many threats anyone, especially Tara Palmer, threw my way.
Steadier than I would have thought possible, my legs carried me down the narrow, serpentine stairs. There was a rope railing that didn’t help the descent feel safer, but I held on to it for dear life while my other hand pointed the light beam as far ahead as possible.
Spider webs stuck to my face when I came around the fourth or fifth turn. I swept them away, then stifled a sneeze. I stopped and took a deep breath, fighting the urge to run back upstairs, telling myself the sliding slabs would not close on me, shutting me inside an eternal tomb that no one knew existed to die a horrible death alone, feasted on by spiders, their babies laying eggs in my…
“Stop it. You’re brave,” I whispered.
The words, as low as they were, echoed inside the cavernous space, mocking me.
“Gee, thanks for the support,” I muttered.
I kept going for a few more turns, expecting to hit magma or something soon.
Then the air changed ever so slightly, and I knew I was almost there, wherever there was.
My light gleamed on the moisture of the last step.
Breathing shakily, I crept out of the constricted passage into an open area. Slowly, afraid of what I would find, I swung the flashlight in a slow arc, first illuminating the dank stone floor and walls, which rose into an arched ceiling at a height of twelve feet. Water dripped from jagged rocks overhead, making splashing sounds. I followed them as they fell and traced their journey to a dark pool of water, stopping where the polished floor switched to natural rock and dipped under the surface of the pool.
Great—a creepy, wet, dark, spider-infested cavern. My favorite.
Completing the circle with my flashlight, I spotted an alcove tucked in at the back. I walked inside, feeling as if I should be surprised, but actually too numb to process all I was seeing.
The recess was small, but it contained enough things to send my mind spinning. To the right, there was an old table made of thick planks, like someone’s barn wood Etsy project gone wrong. My light bathed its mildewed top, which held a kerosene lamp, a tall cup full of dust-caked color pencils, and a large sketchbook shriveled and warped from humidity.
Laying a hand on top of it, I suspected it had belonged to Mom. I turned the flap, top-wise, to find a disfigured drawing, the colors faded, the shape impossible to recognize. Humidity hadn’t been kind to it. With a knot in my throat, I whirled around and pointed my light elsewhere. I couldn’t look at her destroyed drawings when I had the parent I hadn’t yet killed to worry about.
Because he was still alive. There was no other truth.
Across the table lay a wooden chest with rusted hinges. It was large with a curved lid and metal strappings, like a child’s treasure chest. I tried to lift the lid with one hand, but it was too heavy, so I propped my flashlight on the table and heaved the top up. It thumped against the wall, revealing only darkness.
I grabbed my flashlight and illuminated the interior, expecting it to be full of junk. But one single item rested at the bottom.
A sword.
Twin dragons with ruby eyes stared at me from the round pommel, a matching design to that on my ring.
Holy crap. A real sword.
Tentatively, I reached for it, but as I laid my fingers on the grip, something splashed in the pool behind me.
I yelped and pulled back. The flashlight fell from my hand, hit the floor, and spun around several times. I fumbled for it as it revolved and cast dizzying shadows that pushed me to the edge of a scream.
When I finally snatched the flashlight and shakily pointed it toward the water, only echoes of the splash remained. I hadn’t imagined it. Something was in the water.
I left the alcove, retreating toward the steps and never taking my light from the surface.
There was nothing here to help me find Dad, no matter how bizarre the place or how many qu
estions it spawned into my head. So I was getting the hell out before whatever was in the water grabbed me. I’d watched enough horror movies to know how that went down.
Taking the steps two at a time, I left and reached the top, breathing a sigh of relief as I ran out of the hole. Gratefully, I didn’t have to figure out how to set the open slabs back into place because they did it of their own accord.
They had just finished closing when gravel crunched outside.
I spun toward the door. “Dad!”
Relief washed over me as I ran out of the lighthouse. I’d been a dramatic fool. He was fine. No one had taken him. He was here.
I came to a stop and froze. It wasn’t Dad. My brain seemed to throb, unable to process what I was seeing.
“Lila,” Mercedes said in a mere whisper.
She was barefoot on the graveled path, the dress she’d been wearing during the bonfire dirty and torn in places. A trail of blood ran out of one of her ears, and black and blue bruises covered her arms and legs. Her normally smooth braids were tangled and coming apart at the tips.
My friend swayed, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.
I rushed forward and caught her. She was taller and heavier than me, but I managed to ease her fall. I sat on the ground and gently laid her head on my lap.
“Mercedes.” I ran a hand down the side of her face. “Oh my God.”
She opened her eyes and blinked at me.
“Stand back, Warden,” she mumbled.
“What?” I leaned in closer, doubtful of what I thought I’d heard.
“Stand b-back, Warden. Or… or you’ll never see him again.”
Chapter Fourteen
Officer Yeager walked out of the hospital room, followed by Mercedes’s parents. Neither one of them looked pleased. They talked in hushed tones while I sat a distance away, worrying at a hole in my jeans.
After a moment, Mercedes’s parents went back into the room and shut the door with a decisive thud. Officer Yeager sighed and rubbed his forehead. For the tiniest instant, I felt sorry for him. How could the man make headway in the investigation when the first thing he’d have to do would be to take a leap of faith into the paranormal?
He turned. Spotting me, he strode in my direction. Deep grooves marked his forehead, turning him into the grumpiest grown-up I’d ever seen. So much for feeling sorry for him.
I stood, refusing to be intimidated.
“How is—” I started.
“What kind of prank is this?” he demanded.
“Prank?” Was he drunk and ready for his next DUI?
“Stand back, Warden?” he said a bit hysterically. “That’s the first thing that came out of your friend’s mouth?”
I squared my shoulders. “Yeah, that’s what she said. ‘Stand back, Warden. Or you’ll never see him again.’”
“And who is this Warden supposed to be? Me?” He pointed a fat finger to his wrinkled uniform.
“No,” I said with a hint of are you stupid? in my tone.
“Then who?” he asked, exasperated.
“I… I don’t know.” God, I sucked at lying.
“Pshaw!” He lowered his voice and glanced around. “You two are in this together. I can tell.”
“What are you talking about? Why don’t you focus on the ‘you’ll never see him again’ bit?” I was losing my cool if I’d ever had any.
“I never heard her say any such thing. All she keeps repeating is ‘Stand back, Warden. Stand back, Warden.’” He almost growled the words out.
“I’ve already told you Mercedes was talking about my dad. They took him! You have to find him.”
“There are ten kids still missing, and the town has turned into a freak show. You’ll have to come by the station in seventy-two hours and file a missing person report. There’s nothing I can do right now.” He turned and walked away.
“What? Seventy-two hours? What good are you?” I yelled at his retreating figure.
He didn’t look back, just gave me a dismissive, backward wave and disappeared down the hall.
I collapsed back on the chair with a huff. Feeling as if I would burst, I sat on the uncomfortable vinyl seat until my ass went numb. I had to talk to Mercedes, but her parents took precedence. They’d been worried to death. The fact their daughter had turned up alive, unlike Sam, felt like a miracle. It made sense they were monopolizing her. I wouldn’t be surprised if they stuck her in a bubble.
Calls came over the PA system. Nurses and doctors in colorful scrubs hurried back and forth. Service employees strolled by with carts full of sheets and food.
I almost screamed from impatience.
Finally, the door to my friend’s room opened. I jumped to my feet, and her mom waved me in. She was a tall, imposing woman with high cheekbones and a long neck. It was easy to see Mercedes took after her.
“She hasn’t said much,” Mrs. Truman whispered, “but she just called for you.” She smiled and escorted me to the side of the bed, a hand on my shoulder.
Mr. Truman nodded at me from the other side of the bed, but his eyes darted back to his daughter. He appeared worried and angry at the same time. His thick arms were crossed, muscles corded, and his mouth twitched over a well-kept goatee.
I took Mercedes’s hand in mine and squeezed. Her jaw and shoulders hung slack, and her eyes focused on a faraway spot. A square bandage covered her right ear. The striped hospital gown draped limply over her, but I tried to notice the positive things, too. It made me glad to see her braids were smooth and back into place, just the way she liked them. Mrs. Truman always helped her make them perfect. I smiled at Mrs. Truman over my shoulder. Her eyes were wavering pools. She smoothed my hair down my back and kissed me on the cheek.
“Thanks for bringing her back,” Mrs. Truman said.
A knot formed in my throat, and I couldn’t say anything.
“We’ll be outside if you need us.” She took her husband’s arm, ushering him out of the room.
As soon as the door shut, Mercedes popped up like a jack-in-a-box and pulled my hand into her lap. Her eyes burned into mine with maniacal intensity.
“What the hell? You’re awake?”
“Lila,” she said, her voice hushed and urgent. “Please don’t think I’m crazy, but I have to tell someone. If I don’t, I’m going to go nuts.”
Her eyebrows drew together, and her rich brown eyes darted from side to side, as if she didn’t know whether she’d lost her mind.
“Mercedes, calm down. You’re still—”
She cut me off. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Not when there are freakin’ dragons in our freakin’ town. All the insane stories they told us when we were kids…” She yanked my hand until we were face to face. “They’re all true, Li,” she whispered.
I nodded, unable to form words.
“You know,” she said with a sigh of relief as she wrapped her arms around my neck. “You know.” She sagged against me as if the weight of what she was carrying was now on my shoulders.
“I do,” I said, squeezing her back.
We remained in a tight embrace until I couldn’t stand the suspense anymore.
I pushed her to arm’s length. “Mercedes, what happened? Where did they take you? They took my father, too. Did you—”
Noticing her overwhelmed expressions, I stopped. Too many questions all at once. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve just been so worried. And today, they took Dad.”
Mercedes reclined back on the pillow, her forehead creased with thought.
“I don’t remember much,” she began, wiggling her feet under the hospital bed sheet. “One moment, I was on the beach. The next I was in a dark place, strapped to a chair, gagged.”
Not daring to breathe or move, I stood still as my friend told me what she could remember.
“There were others around me, I could hear them crying. We were there for hours. Someone started thrashing around, trying to get loose. Someone else tried to talk through their gag. I think they were saying �
��calm down’ or something.”
Tears spilled down Mercedes’s cheeks. I bit my tongue, imagining the terror she and the others must have felt.
“It was cold,” she continued. “Like some sort of cave.”
“A cave,” I echoed.
God, there were hundreds of them in the woods around Summers Lake, assuming the kidnappers had kept everyone in town, which something told me they had.
“One of those… creatures came to us a while later,” Mercedes said. “They didn’t have a light, didn’t need one. I saw their slitted eyes. They were glowing.” Mercedes’s chin quivered as she spoke. “They took Sam first, I think. It sounded like him.”
My heart stopped. Did she know Sam was dead? Oh, God, I didn’t want to be the one to tell her. Not now. Not ever.
“They n-never brought him b-back.” A sob shook her, and no matter how many times she gulped for air, there didn’t seem to be enough.
“They came for others every so often, and they never brought them back either. Then they came for me, and I thought…”
She pressed her face into her hands and cried. Her next words came out muffled.
“They’re all dead.”
“W-what?” The word was barely a whisper. “What makes your say that?” I asked, doing my best to ignore the terror climbing up my spine.
“She told me.” Mercedes pulled her hands away from her face and stared at me with joyless eyes.
“Who told you?”
“She said her name was ancient, and I was lucky to see her true form and not die. She…” Her voice became a squeak. “She picked me up in one of her talons and held me to her mouth. I thought she was going to eat me. Instead, she pressed a claw to my ear and told me to pay close attention. She ordered me to memorize those words, ‘Stand back, Warden. Or you’ll never see him again.’ She said to repeat them to you. She said you were the warden.” Tears wavered in her sunken eyes.
“If you don’t do what they say, they’ll kill your dad, Li. They’ll kill him!”
Chapter Fifteen
“Caves,” I said, staring at the overhead tiles in Mercedes’s room. How many could there be? Could I find a map online?