“Do you always have the answers or am I that predictable?”
“With you, the answers are—” He searched for words for a moment. “I don’t know. They just come easily.”
There was a short pause. “You think I’m not afraid? I’m terrified of some of the things I can see and do.”
He shook his head. “No, you’ve had a bad experience. But you’ll come out all right.”
“Is that you seeing the future?”
He caught my eye and smiled, and there was something soft and warm there. “I don’t need to see the future for that, Claire. You’re much better than you think.”
“You could be feeding me a line. This whole day could have been a line.”
“You’re right, it could have. You’ll have to decide for yourself. But please remember, I’m not my cousin.”
No way would I mistake the two of them. “Well, then.” I sighed. “I’d say you’ve definitely got a shot.”
A satisfied smirk lifted his lips. “Now that is the best news I’ve heard all day.”
***
Grant waited outside in the parking lot when we pulled up to the school. There had been an accident on the road, and we were ten minutes late getting back.
Judging by the scowl on Grant’s face, Mom had been a no-show again.
I didn’t get a chance to say anything, before Haven had jumped out of the car and pulled Grant out of earshot. Whatever they talked about, Grant was very animated.
After a several minutes, Grant went to grab is book bag from where he’d left it propped against the building. In the few moments, Haven came up to stand with me.
“Is he okay? I’m worried.”
“Your brother has a temper, but he’s not mad at you. He was thrilled you skipped with me. Especially after Bryan cornered him in the lunchroom and demanded to know where you were.”
I blanched. “He told him?”
Haven sighed, he didn’t look pleased either. “Yes. Bryan disappeared afterward. Everyone thinks he skipped out to look for you.”
“Is he always so scary?”
“No.” Haven ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t want you to be alarmed, but this is out of character even by Bryan’s standards. You need to be careful.”
“You think he’ll be stupid.” I believed he would, and I hadn’t known him very long.
“I think”—he chose his words carefully—“Bryan has a temper, and this time, he’s not ready to give up what he wants. I also know if you need anything, call. I will take care of him if he comes by and bothers you.”
“You can’t fight all my battles for me. I’m much tougher than I look.”
He didn’t crack a smile. “Promise you’ll call if you need me.”
“I promise.”
Haven sighed, squared his shoulders. “Avoid Bryan for a few days, and let him cool off.”
“Well, it is the weekend.”
“And it means you’ll be spending tomorrow with me, shopping.”
“Are you asking or telling me?”
He did grin that time. “Asking, of course.”
“Does it include a bookstore?”
He stepped back, an indignant look on his face. “Who spends money on video games or clothes when there are novels to be read?”
I laughed. “What time?”
“Noon.”
Grant blew out a long breath. “Sorry, Sis. I’m just not in a great mood. How are we getting home?”
“I’ll take you guys. It’s my fault you missed the bus anyway.” Haven pulled out his keys again, glancing at Grant.
“Thanks. We really appreciate it.”
The drive to the house was quiet and short. Mom was already gone, but a red note fluttered on the outside of the screen door. The bottom dropped out of my stomach.
“Thanks for the ride, Haven.”
He climbed out with us, standing with his door open. “Listen, if you get in trouble for today, blame it on me.”
“You didn’t make me go. I’ll deal with it,” I said.
Grant grabbed both our book bags from the trunk. “Don’t worry. Mom has to get her head out of her ass in order to even notice.”
Haven reached out and shoved at his shoulder. “You remember what I told you.”
Grant nodded. “Yeah, I know. Thanks for the ride, man.”
He waited until we unlocked the door before pulling out of the driveway. The note wasn’t from Mom like I thought. Inside were only a few hastily scribbled lines.
One of the deepest circles of Hell is reserved for traitors and betrayers. We need to talk.
I didn’t need to read the signature to know who it was from.
Chapter Thirteen
Grant and I decided to put in a movie after dinner. I let him pick a horror flick because it was the only way to distract him from hunting for the note. I told him it was from Mom, but he knew I lied. Watching a slasher flick was probably a poor life choice to begin with, but when I realized I needed to start a load of laundry afterward, it seemed even worse than normal. Grant had turned another movie on and shoved a bag of popcorn in the microwave.
The smell of butter popcorn tickled my nose, mingling with the musty odor of damp concrete and dirt wafting up the stairwell from the basement. I paused in the doorway, my laundry basket propped on my hip.
Dread and revulsion swirled in my stomach. I didn’t want to go, but I liked dirty undies even less. I fumbled along the wall for the light switch, and the bare bulb which hung halfway down the stairs flickered to life. Another light farther back also illuminated the bottom of the stairs in a sickly yellow glow.
Swallowing hard, I headed down. My fingers kept a white-knuckle grip on the banister. We hadn’t painted or done more than sweep and knock the worst of the spider webs down. It had taken two plumbers and three electricians to get the washer and dryer installed and the furnace and water heater up-to-date. They kept leaving, all citing different reasons. Now, down here alone, I understood they were all lies. The second my feet hit the bottom step, the skin between my shoulder blades itched as if someone watched me. Someone who thought I invaded their space.
Okay. Focus. Put the laundry in and get the hell out of here.
I shivered. The temperature seemed several degrees cooler as well, but it was the basement. All basements were cold and damp. I repeated the words like a mantra as I made my way across the room. Even so, goose bumps rose on my arms, and I tried to ignore the small white puffs my breath made. No basement was this cold in summer.
I wanted to run back upstairs and nail the door shut. Instead, I dumped my clothes in the washer, chucked some soap in, and closed the lid. Right when I pulled the knob out to start the cycle, every light went out.
Heavy panting came from behind me, moving so close an ice-cold breeze rustled the hair next to my ear. My mouth opened, but no sound escaped. When icy fingers slid across the back of my neck, I bolted.
Although it was pitch black, I headed in the general direction of the stairs. I tripped, scraping my hands on the concrete floor as I pushed back to my feet. Dim light filtered from the open door above, and I made a beeline for it. Only when I was within feet of it did I look behind me.
A white mist followed a few feet after. In the center of the hazy form, a face began to materialize. The ghost’s mouth stretched to inhuman proportions. The smell of dust and decay threatened to choke me. Fear coated my tongue and I turned, my legs shaking beneath me as I sprinted the last few feet to the stairs. Coldness swirled behind me and every hair on my body stood on end. My feet gained one stair, but on the second I slipped, cracking my shin on the tread. The burst of white-hot pain made tears prick my eyes, and my heart pounded even faster. A breath of wind traveled up my calves, and my fingers scrabbled on the wall for the railing, paint jamming beneath my nails like sharp skewers. A squeak escaped me, but I didn’t have enough air for a real scream.
A faint wail echoed from somewh
ere nearby, though I couldn’t tell if I heard it with my ears or my mind. Even as I got my feet under me again and crawled up two more stairs, icy fingers curled around my legs. A breathless, screaming sob escaped as I tripped again. My body fell hard against the treads. My eyes remained glued to the thin line of light at the bottom of the door above me. Safety was there, mere steps away.
Phantom hands dug into my skin, pulling me down the stairs, the basement door burst open and the stairwell flooded with light. Grant stood at the top of the stairs, breathing hard, his eyes wide. The specter released me, and I slumped in relief.
“Are you okay?”
I shook my head and flipped over, pulling myself up backward, my gaze never leaving the shadowy recesses below. As I hauled myself over the threshold into the kitchen, only the darkening bruises on my leg in the shape of fingers remained as proof of my story.
Grant slammed the basement door closed and locked it. I resisted the hysterical giggle that bubbled in my throat. Could locks really hold back a ghost?
“Answer me. Are you okay?”
I sat on the floor, leaning against the island, and focused on drawing air into my lungs and lowering my thundering pulse rate. “I think so.”
He crouched next to me, and then pulled his cell phone from his pocket. His thumb tapped in a few numbers. He put it to his ear, and I heard a deep mumble on the other end.
“You better come over.”
My brow furrowed. He glanced at the marks on my leg and frowned.
“Seriously, man. She’s really freaked, and honestly, so am I.”
He said goodbye and hung up.
“Who did you call?”
“Haven.”
A flush rose. “What! Why?”
“Because he seems to know what’s going on, or at least more than we do. And he’s a hell of a lot better than Bryan.” A teasing smile curled on his lips. “Besides, I know the two of you have the hots for each other.”
“You need your head examined.”
“Whatever. Will you be all right if I go unlock the door?”
My gaze fell on the basement door in the other corner of the room, and I swallowed, nodding slowly. “Yes.”
Grant stared for a moment, then moved away down the hall. A shadow moved behind the door and from my vantage on the floor, I watched the knob turn.
“Go away.” I shifted, drawing myself up a bit more. “We’re done for the night, you hear? You caught me by surprise, and I won’t let it happen again.”
The knob went a half an inch farther, then stopped. Grant’s footsteps came back down the hall and he leaned in the doorway, keeping his body so he could watch the front door and still keep an eye on me.
“I’m fine, Grant. Really.”
“You don’t look fine. You look like you’ve had the shit scared out of you.”
“Thanks so much.”
“I was taught never to lie.”
I stuck out my tongue. “You would find that lesson useful now.”
He smiled and shifted. Beneath me, the floorboards vibrated in time to the echo of feet pounding down the hallway.
“Here comes your knight in shining armor,” Grant murmured. There was no malice in the words.
Haven skidded to a stop in the doorway to the kitchen and bent over, panting. His face was red. “Are you two all right?”
I stared and nodded. “Did you run the whole way here?”
His face colored even more. “Grant made it sound urgent.”
“He overreacted.” I cut my eyes to my brother.
He walked over and pointed at my leg before I could move. “You ever see a ghost able to do that before?”
Haven crouched next to me, his brow furrowed as he studied the bruises. Gently, he laid his fingers over the marks. They were narrower than his hands, but there was no mistaking the handprint.
“What the hell is going on?”
“We were kind of hoping you could help figure it out,” I said. A second later, the basement stairs creaked as if someone walked up to the door. Haven rose, took a step toward it, and I grabbed his leg.
“No.” The knob rattled, and my fear faded and changed to anger. Grant stood to the side, his face white as a sheet. I got to my feet and moved in front of Haven. “I said enough! You’ve made a point.”
Haven hovered over my shoulder, his hands curling over my biceps. My entire body trembled as everything suddenly went silent. Triumph thrummed through my body.
I turned with a smile on my lips. The thing on the other side slammed into the door. I jumped back with a squeak into Haven’s arms. The wood rattled and moved as if a wild beast clawed at the other side.
“I don’t think it worked,” he whispered.
“No shit.” I clung to Haven.
His hands moved around my back and held me tighter. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to talk to it.”
I closed my eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Are you going to tell me why it bothers you so much?”
“You mean beyond the whole, ‘I’m talking to the dead’ part?” I paused. “Maybe. Someday,” I turned to focus on the door.
I sucked in air, releasing it slowly. The door shook, the thudding more intense, with the knob rattling until I thought it would snap off. I concentrated, my whole gaze on the door, then my attention turned to the darkness behind it. Opening a little crack in the walls around my mind, and I sensed the madness and violence of the spirit. Another nudge of the mental door and I reached out.
Calm enveloped me. I could do this. I would do it.
“That’s enough.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but the pounding lessened. I poured more of my will into the power I sent to surround the spirit. “I said, stop it. Go back where you came from. There is no place for you here.”
You have no idea what this place is. What we are. What you will be.
“I don’t care. Right now, you need to leave.”
The spirit pushed back, but I was ready for it. In the back of my mind, I was aware of Grant and Haven, but they were static. My energy stayed intent on forcing the ghost down to wherever it had come from.
When it finally gave in, there was a screech, like fingernails on a chalkboard. Everyone put their hands over their ears. When it was over, the presence had receded back into whatever dark corner it had come from.
“Wow. Did you do that?” Grant stared at me as if I sprouted wings.
I nodded.
“Sweet!” He put up his hand for a high-five. “You’re our own personal ghost buster!”
I smiled, but shook my head. “No. He’s gone for now, but it’s not permanent.”
“Hey, anything is better than nothing,” Grant said.
He moved around us to the fridge. His eyes shifted between Haven and me. Until then, I hadn’t noticed how close I still stood. With a sigh, I stepped away. Haven’s hand caught at mine.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
I opened my mouth to say yes, and then closed it. Physically, everything was still there. My body throbbed everywhere the stairs had hit me; my leg ached. I’d be a mess of bruises in the morning. Mentally, I felt…stronger. It had been a long time since I could say so.
“I’m okay, I think.”
Haven raised a brow. “You think?”
“I’m going to be black and blue, and I’m freaking out a little, but yeah.” I smiled at him. “I think so.”
He smiled back, but there were shadows in his eyes. “Good. And please, any time you need me—either of you—call. I’ll come.”
I squeezed Haven’s hands in mine. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
Grant slid a pop across the counter to me, then one to Haven. “Yeah, thanks. I know tonight might have been short notice, but it was either you or Bryan.” He made a face and took a swig of cola. “And I really dislike him.”
Haven popped the tab on the can. “Yes, well, I’m biased, but I don’t thi
nk he’d have been much use. Unless you count whipping out one of his instruments and turning on a camcorder helpful.”
“What?”
Haven’s gaze moved between Grant and me. “You don’t know?”
I nodded. “I’d forgotten.”
Grant perked. “Know what?”
Haven sipped the drink, then said, “Bryan is a major part of the county’s only paranormal investigative team. He’s been dying to get in this house since he started carrying around EMF detectors and digital recorders in his lunchbox in the sixth grade.”
Grant laughed. “Oh God, what a priceless picture. How did he manage to survive middle school?”
“His parents own a good portion of town. No one dared call him out on his quirks.”
“So he wants to be my friend to get in the house? He didn’t mention that part when we talked.” Anger fizzed in my gut, and I clenched my hands. “What an ass.”
“It gets better,” Haven said. “He’s convinced the Spirit Searchers he can get them in here for an investigation too.”
“Who the hell are they?”
“They’re the group he works with. They’re based a couple counties over. They’ve been featured on a few of those ghost story television shows. When Bryan dreams, he doesn’t do it by halves.”
Grant moved around the island, his eyes on me. My shaking, which had subsided, started again. I didn’t often get angry, but when I did, it wasn’t pretty.
“Don’t take it personal, Sis.”
“Bryan has spent his time making me think I was a horrible person because I rejected him and got upset with him, and the whole time he only spoke to me because he wanted into our house. I think that’s very, very personal.”
Grant put a hand on my shoulder. “Claire, you have to chill out.”
I took deep breaths, concentrating on pulling myself together. Haven reached over and took my hand. Now I’d opened myself up and used my gifts again. It made it harder to cut them off. Just like last time, when I did things without knowing I was doing them. When I could have hurt people. I struggled, panting. Panic consumed me.
“Calm down, you’ve got this.” Haven’s voice was soft. I listened with only half my attention. There was something else…
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