Kneeling up, I run my hands over my face, my neck and arms. Stupidly enough, I even hug myself. No wonder the bloodstain never left here. For some reason, this spot is immune to Garrett’s freaky time freeze.
Did Ada know about this? She had to—she’s haunted my house for years. But maybe the immunity thing doesn’t work for her because she’s dead. My body is still alive.
A glint of silver catches my periphery. In the corner lies the six inch or so knife I dropped the night I first saw Thomas’ ghost in the library. I’d completely forgotten about it.
Using the few blocks of wood laddering up the side, I pull myself to my feet. I have to stand with my head crooked to one side, and I brace one hand against the low ceiling. The pain in my side is back.
“Mom,” I whisper, grazing my stomach. I don’t know if it’s my body or not, but I’m me again. “You knew? Is this some sort of safety zone?”
But why? a thought adds.
What sounds like a door clatters shut, and shoes scuff along the floor above me until they fade off. Ada must have come back in. Is she still in my body now that I—well, I am too? I wait for another set of footprints to join hers, but relief is a thick drink. She’s alone. She didn’t find him.
Without hesitation I push up against the trap door. Bracing myself against the wooden steps, I clench my teeth and heave. The door gives, but nearly smashes my fingers. I steal a breath and try again. I keep at it until the door spews open and the rug curls at one end like a tongue.
No Todd. I have to get my body back before she finds him.
Pits sweating, arms shaking, I mount the ladder. With each step, grain settles onto my tongue and splinters embed into my arms, like someone is scraping me against a raw-cut fencepost. I rise; the fridge and china hutch loom over me. I’ve got the perspective a small child must have on their world.
But the minute my hand braces against the floor to pry the rest of me out, my arm becomes see-through. It turns back to ghostly blue, and it flattens, coursing along the wood.
Drat. I don’t have a clue how to reverse what she did.
On top of that, a squeal sounds from nearby once I descend. Ada. She must have felt something, too.
A racket of steps jerks my attention. In a rush, I leave the trap door open, but roll the rug back over, saving enough of a sliver for me to catch a glimpse of her shoes. Or, Todd’s sister’s beat-up Nikes that I borrowed, anyway.
“He’s got to be on her cell phone,” AdaPiper mumbles. I snag a glimpse of my backpack before she slings it up, presumably on the counter. My brain bumbles for an idea—for some way to distract her.
I slither up until I’m in the wall beside her, feeling my body liquefy and suck back into the wood. Ada gasps and looks around as if she feels something too.
A bang comes from the servants’ staircase diagonal from the basement door, and I push to my tiptoes, straining my calves to see what it is. The doorknob whines, and then Todd’s curly head pokes through. My heart crash-lands into my ribs.
“Todd!” I cry, but clasp my hands over my mouth. Ada jerks. She’s pulled my strawberry-blonde hair into a twist on top of her head, and a scowl rests on her forehead. She clutches her side where spots of blood are starting to leak through her clothes.
“What will it take to get rid of you?” she mutters, circling the room. Does that mean she heard me?
I don’t know how to press myself out again like I did before, to make Todd see me. I slink down, frantic in the confined flooring. I’m stuck here. Even if I try and leave the trap door, I’ll just be wedged in the boards again. Come on, Piper. Think!
AdaPiper’s face brightens, and she sets my phone on the counter. “There you are,” she says. Todd steps into the kitchen, eyes crawling all over her.
“What is going on here?” he demands, pointing back to the servants’ stairs. “In case you forgot, I know how to get in through that secret passage, remember?”
AdaPiper beams at him, but he smacks her hand away. Go Todd.
“You shove me out, clearly freaked, and now you’re all happy like the hills are alive with the freaking sound of music?”
“Go home, Todd!” I shout, heading back toward the trap door once more. “Run!” Run far. Run fast.
He says nothing. I can’t tell if he heard me or not.
“I do not know what you mean,” Ada goes on as if I never said anything. “But come with me. It will be easier to show you.”
“What’s with the fancy talk? Stop it!” I imagine him flinging her off again and folding his arms. “Do you have any idea what we’ve gone through trying to get to you? You act like you don’t even care!”
We?
“It’s a trap, Todd! It’s a trap!” I still don’t know if he can hear me, but I can’t keep quiet.
“What are you talking about?” he says. “I’m not taking another step until you tell me what’s going on. Why did you lock me out? Piper, does this have anything to do with that Ada chick?”
I can hear the eye roll in AdaPiper’s voice. “This is futile. Time is of the essence, after all. Thomas!”
No, she can’t! My hands helmet over my hair, my thoughts firing. I’ll toss up the rug—he’ll see me! I just have to prolong things somehow, until it’s too late and Thomas fades.
“Who is Thomas?” Todd asks.
No. No!
“Hold it!” I yell, pushing up the rug. The floppy mat droops back over me, until Todd’s fingers lift it completely. I gaze up at him, at his astonished face. He looks as if he’s just seen how he’s going to die.
His mere presence lures me, and I’m tempted to climb, to go to him, to rub it in Ada’s face. But I know I can’t rise any further.
“Piper?” Todd staggers back, one hand in his hair. I slide a glance at Ada. Her nose fidgets like a bunny rabbit’s, and her lips are in an open pout over her teeth.
“How did you—?” Ada snarls.
“I won’t let you do this,” I tell her.
Todd’s eyes boggle like those crafty ones I used to glue on projects as a kid. He looks as if he’s about to pass out. His glance darts back and forth between the two Pipers.
“How—?” Ada asks again. Even from this distance, she’s looking down her nose at me.
I’m not about to spill what I’ve discovered; that this spot is my home base in the stupid game she’s playing. Instead, I turn to my friend.
“Todd, don’t trust her! She’s Ada.”
“What?”
“Watch.” Again, I step out of the trap door, only to have my body grow insubstantial. Todd’s nostrils flare in AdaPiper’s direction.
“What did you do to her?” he snarls.
AdaPiper opens her mouth, but the temperature in the room drops, freezing us all in place. And Thomas wafts in. His form is more faded than ever before. It flickers in and out of sight, like he’s barely hanging on. Any minute now the smallest gust will blow him to ashes.
“Ada,” Thomas moans. “Do it. Now.”
I pivot around the small space, run my fingers through my hair, when I see it. I have no other choice. Especially not when AdaPiper sneers and thrusts the hitch at Todd’s throat.
He rears back, but a disgusting look of satisfaction rests on AdaPiper’s face. Todd doubles over, as Thomas’ body slowly fills with color.
“Todd!”
A million thoughts ride through in seconds, but I quell them just as quickly. Ada is not going to do this to him. I won’t allow it. And I won’t be trapped here.
Todd lets out a huge groan as his body tumbles to the floor. No—Todd!
I stare at his body in shock, unable to breathe, to think. The satisfaction on Ada’s face builds, and she kneels beside Todd, brushing a hand across his cheek like he already belongs to her.
“I’ll show her payback,” I stammer, driven to desperation. I scuttle around and pick up the knife. Gritting my teeth, I take a deep breath and plunge the metal into my chest.
I’m doubled over. My hands clench above
my sternum like the bone is loose and I’m trying to keep it from detaching. I pat the spot several times. Am I dead? The knife went in—I felt the puncture. But through the slit it made in my shirt, my chest is smooth.
Sweat collects in my palms, and I don’t have to check my heart to know it’s thudding like a jackhammer. Huh. I didn’t think hearts beat when you die.
I lift my shirt to expose my stomach. The stitches are gone, and the dog bite I’d been missing near my belly button is back, leaving a white mark that looks like it was created by those glow-in-the dark vampire teeth. Long red scratches also climb the length of my forearm.
The zits on my face also return. I can’t believe I welcome the bumpy surface of my cheeks and forehead.
“I’m not dead,” I whisper. It worked. “I’m not dead.”
The dried bloodstain encircles my feet, and cobwebs spine between the laddered pieces of wood. In an excited frenzy, I mount the ladder and climb, only to freeze when I reach the floorboards. The kitchen looks…different.
Spent sunlight empties in through the grubby windows. And the house is an utter ruin. Paper peels from the walls, sagging in gloomy sheets. Cracks chisel through the molding along the ceiling and floor; chunks are gouged from the surface, revealing the lath and plaster beneath. The thick smell of dust and rotting wood filters through the air.
A shade has been pulled from my eyes. The shiny new layer of my house has been skinned back and I see the broken condition it’s actually in, without Ada there to do the upkeep. It’s exactly what my house should look like, considering it’s around a hundred and thirty years old and we’ve done zero repair work. The shattered stained glass, the grime coating the windows…
The blood. Oh gosh, the bloodstains smear the wood from the trap door and clear up the hallway. A grunt pulls my attention toward the rotting cupboard doors dangling from hinges or gaping open. Todd lies on his back in front of the sink. His long legs are bent to avoid the cabinets.
“Oh!”
I scramble out of the hole to his side. My feet sink slightly through the corroded floorboards, which are also missing chunks here and there where they’ve been gnawed through by squirrels or rats or something.
I run my fingers through Todd’s hair, press my palms to his cool face, his shoulders. His lids are closed, and a peaceful calm rests over him, like he’s simply catching some Z’s. His pulse beats at his neck, and I rest my hand over his heart, just to feel each lub dub.
I bend down, soaking in his heat and his nearness. “Is it you?” I ask softly. I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s Thomas. It would mean I failed. But Ada’s the one who stabbed Todd. So by destroying myself—her, really—it should have stopped the whole vessel thing since it wasn’t complete.
Todd’s chest rises and falls, and a surge of memories gush through me. Catching his smile from across the football field, or rifling through pawn shops for old records or license plates. That lurch in my gut anytime he honks outside to pick me up for school. Days wasted watching movies; his eighties music; his warm touch. My best friend. How can I live without him?
His eyelids flutter, and he coughs a few times, deep and throaty. “Piper,” he moans. Then he mumbles on, almost sounding like a sigh, “Sierra told me that door would work. And it did.”
Thomas would never call my name, and he would certainly not talk about Sierra Thompson. While I wonder what in the world Sierra has to do with anything, the relief is dizzying; it clouds over my judgment until I get the urge to disconnect completely. To snuggle in and wrap myself in him.
Just to be sure, though, I rub my finger on his arm and ask: “What’s taking up all the space in your closet and driving your mom crazy because you don’t have anywhere to put your clothes?”
“You kidding me, Pipes?” Todd mutters. With a grimace, he slowly rises to sitting and props his head against the cupboard door behind him. His eyes are still closed. “You stab yourself in front of me, and you want to talk about Pez?”
I laugh and hug him as tightly as I can. I press my cheek to his throat, take in his smell of soap mixed with sweat. My fingers carve through his hair, its soft, feathery feel. His arms circle tight around me.
“Mind telling me how you’re still here? And what the hell you were thinking?” he mumbles into my shoulder. His grip on me squeezes, securing me to him. I never want him to let me go. He’s alive. I’m alive. And we’re together.
Thoughts run through my head, but pegging them down requires more effort than I want to give at the moment. “Mind if I explain later?” I ask, pressing myself closer. My arms readjust to get a better grip on him.
“I love you, you know,” he says into my neck.
The words are the ultimate resolution to the chaos of the past few days. We nearly lost one another. With more than one close call, in my case. The confession isn’t anything new—I think we’ve known the love thing, in some sense, anyway. But maybe it’s that this type of love is new and needed to be spoken. To be heard.
“Me too,” I say. “Love you, I mean.”
Gently, Todd pulls me back. His absorbing gaze travels across my face. “Seriously, what happened?”
I take in the decay riddling my house. The cracks in the molding. The basement door hanging on its hinges. I’m not sure where to start.
“Ada took my body. And she tried to take yours for Thomas.”
Todd’s hand goes to his neck where Ada stabbed him with the gadget. “So you thought suicide was the answer?” A smile kinks at his lips. “Very Shakespeare of you.”
“It was the only way,” I say. I kneel up and sit on my feet, showing him my arm, the cuts from where my mom’s nails razored me. “If we’d done anything to the house, it would’ve happened to me instead. I just hoped this would stop Ada before anything, you know, final happened.” Like you dying.
I raise my fingers to my cheeks. The smoothness is interrupted by uneven, pimple-y bumps. But the dread I expect doesn’t come.
Who cares? I mean, really. I’m alive, and I have Todd. That’s what matters. And—
“Oh, crap!”
My hand smacks Todd’s chest and I jump to my feet.
“What’s wrong now?” he asks.
I clamber down the basement stairs. They give under my weight like squeegees, and I cling to the cobweb-spanned banister for balance. At my touch, the wooden railing creaks and slopes over in slow motion as if someone just yelled, Tim-ber!
I slam back into the wall as the banister collapses to the floor below the stairs. Dust flurries at the impact. I scurry down the rest of the unsteady steps and click on the swinging bulb. Discolored light spreads its glow over the mess of fallen wood.
“What are you doing?” Todd calls from behind. I ignore him, partly because I’m fighting down bile at the stench in here, along with the sight of the capsized table, the rusty saws and hooks, the shattered glass near the drain in the cement floor.
I weave around to the far room. Joel’s silhouette lies in the shadows, huddled beneath the faded gray cloth Ada placed over him. I finger along the walls for a light switch, but the damp grit balls up beneath my fingers.
“Joel,” I mutter. Then louder, “Todd! Joel’s in here!”
Todd calls something back, but his words are cut off by another racketing crash. I knead the heel of my hand against my temple and dread kicks in. The house is still alive—it’s attacking Todd.
But I know better. It’s just old. It should be condemned.
I scamper back to find Todd hunched over, monkeying his way off the crumpled heap of decayed wood. Dark curls straggle across his forehead, and he nurses his elbow. I put my hand on his arm as he jumps down to the floor.
“We have to get out of here,” I say, staring up at the fourteen or so feet between us and the door, now that the staircase is gone. The whole house could collapse on us any minute!
“That sucks rocks,” Todd says at the blood skimming down his arm.
I pull him. “Come on. I think Joel’s still ali
ve.”
“What do you mean, he’s still alive?” He limps a few times and gestures to the surgical tools and dangling hooks. “Geez, it’s like a slaughterhouse down here.”
“You’re not far off,” I say, herding him forward toward the darkness.
Todd uses his phone as a flashlight, and the small beam shows the blackish, congealed blood on either side of Joel’s head.
“Ugh,” Todd says, squinting through the dim light. “What happened to his ears?”
My stomach gives a heavy lurch. “Spare-Tooth Bandit guy, remember?”
Joel looks paler than the moon under the light from Todd’s cell. A faint pulse glubs at his throat, and his body twitches. I take the cloth from him and lay it on the floor.
“Help me. We need to get him out of here.”
Todd gets under his shoulders, and I get his feet, and we heave him over. Joel lets out several moans, and his head bows backward.
“Sorry,” I tell him, fighting the desire to wipe sweat from my hairline, at the same time Todd says, “Hang in there, dude.”
We each grab two ends of the cloth and gurney him into the lighted room. Joel’s weight makes the cloth hard to grip. With every step it slips more and more from my grasp. We have to maneuver around Garrett’s mess, and I accidently kick what I think is the hacksaw. It jangles against the concrete.
“How do you plan on getting out, exactly?” Todd asks, gesturing to the gap between us and the door above. The wall behind where the stairs had been is a lighter gray than the surrounding area. “Last I checked, the stairs are gone.”
With a substantial strain on my back, we carefully set Joel on the ground. “We can’t call the police,” I mutter to myself, pacing. “The last thing we need is for them to see what’s down here. Who knows if they’ll uncover other things Ada hid in the walls.”
“I got it,” Todd says, pulling out his phone. His fingers move, and after a few seconds, he puts it back in his pocket.
“You texted someone?”
He nods.
With growing unease, I ask, “Who was it?”
Glass from the small window to our left shatters, and a rock plunks on the concrete by my foot. I let out a small squeak. A ray of sunlight pours in and then gets blocked by Jordan’s smug face and Sierra’s now-clear skin. From the sound of it, several others are behind them.
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