A Whispered Darkness

by Vanessa Barger

  Grant shook his head. “No way. I’ve got to get to sleep. We’re going on two weeks. My grades suck because I can’t focus, and I’ve almost fallen down the stairs three times.”

  Alarm shot through me. He hadn’t told me this. “God, Grant. Why didn’t you say anything?”

  He lifted one shoulder. “There’s nothing you could do about it, and you’re dealing with enough on your own. I’m not a baby, I can handle myself.”

  Tears pricked my eyes. Haven came around the counter and rubbed his hands up and down my arms. “You aren’t responsible for this. Stop blaming yourself.”

  “I’m the one who’s supposed to be psychic. Who’s supposed to know how all this works. I can’t get anything right, and I’m not sure my mother isn’t being taken over by the house. I don’t even know what these spirits want.”

  “Us,” Grant said.

  We turned, and I wiped at my eyes. “What?”

  “They want us.” Grant pulled the lid off the pot of rice and spooned some into his bowl. “The dreams don’t say much else, but they’re quite clear about that.”

  “What do you dream about?”

  Grant shook his head. “No. Some things we are never going to discuss.”

  “Grant—”

  He shot me a glare that could have stripped paint. “You know as much as you need to. Don’t ask again.”

  Haven tugged on my hand, taking me down the hall and into the living room. Things had been looking up this afternoon. Now they were bogged back down in the mire.

  “Listen, I’ve been keeping an eye on him. He talks to me. Don’t worry so much,” Haven said.

  “It’s not that easy,” I whispered. “You don’t understand. He’s all I’ve got left.”

  Haven’s hand slid under my chin and gently pushed me until I looked up. Sympathy glittered in his eyes. “I understand better than you think. Trust me, he’s okay. I would tell you otherwise. And don’t be so pessimistic. Things will get better.”

  “I hope you’re right. Because if they don’t get better soon, I’m not sure how much more of this we can take.”

  “Don’t cry. Please. You know, you have me too.”

  I sniffed and rubbed at my eyes. “You’re sweet, but I’m not crying.” Pushing at his chest, I urged him back toward the kitchen. “You’ll tell me if anything is wrong?”

  “I will.” He squeezed my hand. “Now let’s eat before Bryan gets here and I lose my appetite.”

  We moved back into the kitchen and got dinner. Talk was kept, by unspoken arrangement, to neutral subjects. There would be plenty of time to discuss ghosts and Grant’s problem.

  Bryan knocked on the front door exactly an hour later. I took a deep breath and pasted on a smile before heading down the hall and leaving the others to wash dishes.

  “Hello, Bryan. Glad you decided to come.” I opened the door and stood back so he could come inside.

  When his foot crossed over the threshold, a breeze blew through the hall like the house sighed. Haven and Grant shot out of the kitchen, Haven still dripping with dishwater.

  “What the hell?” Grant demanded.

  I closed the front door and watched Bryan’s face. He couldn’t seem to decide whether to be thrilled or pissed off.

  “Apparently we aren’t the only ones happy to see him,” I said. Haven returned to the kitchen, a worried frown pulling at his lips. Grant stared for a moment, then followed.

  “What’s Haven doing here?” Bryan demanded. “You didn’t mention him when you called.”

  I started toward the kitchen. “You were both invited. If you choose to leave because he’s here, fine. But I’m not asking him to leave because you’re pouting.” My mind raced as I waited to see if he would follow. The atmosphere in the house had changed. It seemed that for whatever reason, the ghosts were pleased to see Bryan.

  The idea freaked me out.

  Bryan came into the kitchen, setting his bag on the counter. “So, what exactly did you need me for?”

  His words were brusque to the point of rudeness, and he kept a dark glare on Haven the whole time. Gritting my teeth, I motioned Grant over. “All right, Grant, time to tell everyone what you’ve been up to.”

  As he described putting down the salt circle and then moving around the room with the burnt sage, Bryan scribbled in a small notebook and grunted at regular intervals. I wanted to smack him, and barely resisted the urge.

  When Grant finished, everyone turned to stare at Bryan, who continued to make notes for a few minutes. At last, he closed the notebook and looked up, a smug smile on his lips. “I’m sure Haven’s method works for minor supernatural irritations, but if you want to do it right, then I’ll do it. Nothing will get through what I put up there.”

  “And it won’t trap anything inside with me?” Grant asked.

  Bryan frowned, but he shook his head. “No. I’ll kick them out and seal it.”

  He rose and we started to follow. “No.” He shook his head. “You guys stay here. What I’m going to do takes concentration.”

  I stood. “I’m coming to watch, whether you like it or not.”

  He pursed his lips and shrugged. “Fine, but Haven and Grant stay here. I won’t have all of you mucking up the energy in the room.”

  They nodded, though neither looked happy about it. As far as I was concerned, they didn’t have to. None of us trusted Bryan, so he wasn’t going up there to tamper with Grant’s room unless someone went to watch him.

  Leading the way upstairs, I wondered at Bryan’s certainty about what to do. I couldn’t imagine any high-school senior being quite so knowledgeable about the paranormal. It wasn’t that I found it impossible. Just unlikely in Bryan’s case.

  I opened Grant’s door and Bryan sat his book bag in the center of the floor, pulling out several items. A vial of clear fluid, more sage and matches, and a small book. He handed me the sage and matches.

  “If you’re going to be here, you can do this part. First, I’m going to sprinkle the holy water around the room. You follow with the sage, and I’ll use these prayers. They’re in Latin, so keep quiet while I’m doing this.”

  I took the sage and lit the end. Bryan uncapped the vial and opened the book to a page he’d already marked. “Ready?”

  I nodded.

  “The key is belief. If you don’t believe it will work, then it won’t.”

  I nodded and followed him around the room. The sage smoke made my eyes water and I resisted the urge to sneeze. Bryan’s voice was clear and loud as we circled the room. I kept half an ear open to what he said, and half to the psychic feeling in the room. The farther we went, the less ominous the atmosphere seemed to be. Finally, we ended at the door again, and Bryan finished his prayer by sketching a cross in the air with the holy water.

  A sense of calm and peace washed over me and I smiled. Bryan turned and crushed out the sage in the small dish Grant had brought up earlier for the same purpose.

  “Better?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Despite the new atmosphere, my body tensed when I turned my attention to Bryan. “We really appreciate this.”

  “You know it isn’t their appreciation I care about.”

  “Yes, I know. And I’m very grateful you decided to overlook our argument and come anyway.”

  He smirked. “Sure. Well, now that the hard part is done, do we get dessert?”

  Keeping the smile on my face hurt. “I think I’ve got some cookies I can hook you up with.”

  Opening the door and stepping into the hall, I didn’t wait for him to answer. After a few brief moments, I heard him follow.

  “Tell him to keep reinforcing it with his own thoughts and prayers of protection, and it should hold just fine.” Bryan hopped down the stairs to walk down next to me.

  “Great. This will really help him. It’s been hard for him not being able to sleep.”

  “And you? Do you have problems sleeping?” Bryan’s hand grazed my sh
oulder, and I resisted the urge to flinch away. My skin crawled where he touched it.

  “No, the house doesn’t affect my dreams.” I knocked lightly on the wooden banister. “Hopefully it stays that way.”

  Bryan didn’t share my faint chuckle. He stopped on the last stair and grabbed my elbow. “You have to be careful, Claire. This place isn’t a laughing matter. I’ve done research about it.”

  “So you’re the one who made the file at the library.” It made sense now. I didn’t see why I hadn’t thought of it before.

  Bryan’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. Are you the one who took it?”

  “Took it?”

  He nodded. “It’s gone missing. I went to go and look something up a couple days ago and the files are gone.”

  “I made copies, and gave them back to the librarian. I didn’t take them.” I started down the stairs again. “I’ll bring it to school tomorrow if you want. You can look through the copies.”

  “Someone needs to keep those records. It took a long time to gather all that together.”

  I smiled. “I’m sure. I promise I’ll bring it. You can use your charm to get the ladies in the office to copy it all for you.”

  He paused. “Don’t laugh at me.”

  Another breeze ruffled our hair.

  “Can you feel them?” His eyes moved around the foyer with an expression I couldn’t place.

  I jerked my arm out of his grasp. “Yes, I can. But why can you?”

  “Their presence is heavy. Like lead weights on your feet in a cold pond.” His voice grew faint, and a glazed look came into his eyes. I cursed and reached out and tugged hard on his hand, causing him to stumble down the stairs.

  “Don’t be stupid, Bryan. It doesn’t take much searching to find trouble in this house. If you’re going to stand around and invite them into your head, you’re leaving.”

  He didn’t say a word. Biting my lip with worry, I pushed him toward the front door. He should be protesting or getting upset. Anything but this strange frozen indifference.

  “That’s it. Out. You’ve had enough for one evening.”

  Another phantom breeze ruffled my hair, and the temperature plummeted. Grant and Haven shouted in the kitchen. A low growl sounded right behind my shoulder, but I didn’t turn. I continued to push Bryan, who seemed to be coming back to himself, out the door.

  His feet moved like they were caught in molasses. “Claire?”

  I shoved my shoulder into his back and he stumbled into the screen door, landing on his knees on the porch. The breeze turned into a roar, and then cut off, like someone flicked a switch.

  Bryan shook his head, dusting off his hands and standing. “What happened?”

  My breath came in gasps. The effort it had taken to get him on the porch was ridiculous. “You got a little too cocky.”

  “I don’t know whether to thank you or get upset.”

  “I vote for gratitude, if you’re asking.” I stood. “Forgive me for being rude, but don’t come over again unless you take some precautions of your own. This place likes you, and it’s not a good thing.”

  Bryan struggled to hide a delighted smile. “Yes. Well. I guess I’ll head home. You call if you need anything else.”

  I nodded. “I will. Good night, Bryan. And thanks.”

  With a smirk, he waved, disappearing down the porch steps and around the corner. I heard him trip and mumble a curse, and I knew his attention still lay with the house and whatever had tried to hold on to him.

  Haven and Grant waited inside the doorway.

  “What the hell was that?” Grant demanded. “I thought he fixed my room!”

  “He did.” I sighed. “But the ghosts in the house let him fix your room. It was worse than Mom. Whatever is here wants Bryan. It wants him bad.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Haven, have you been to the library lately?” I asked. A horrible thought was forming.

  He frowned. “No. Why?”

  “Bryan is the one who put together the research we copied. He says the originals at the library are missing.”

  He stiffened. “Where are the copies?”

  I turned, heading upstairs to my room. I’d left the stack in the bottom of my desk drawer, knowing Mom never bothered my desk. Grant and Haven followed behind me as I yanked on the knob, revealing a messy stack of stationary and paperclips.

  I scooped up everything and dumped it on my desk. The papers had been clipped together on the bottom. There was nothing there now.

  “Check and see if they’re in another drawer,” Grant told me.

  I opened each one, but most were filled with small bits of paper and pens. One drawer held stickers and a flashlight. No other stacks of paper were there.

  “I think someone doesn’t want us to know more than we do already.”

  Haven sighed. “At least we managed to read most of it. We have a little more knowledge than before.”

  I shoved everything back in the drawers. “I guess. We’ll keep our eyes open when we’re cleaning up. If we find anything else, we’ll have to read it before it has a chance to disappear again.”

  Grant scowled, then brightened. “What about the paper you took notes on?”

  A quick shuffle through the middle drawer of the desk confirmed that the pages of notes had been torn out. I put the notebook back. “We’re on our own, I think. Mom had to have been the one who tore it out.”

  “I don’t know,” Haven said. “They’re getting awfully physical.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think invisible hands did this. I think Mom and whatever is taking her over did.”

  At a loss, we headed back downstairs. Haven’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and his shoulders slumped when he read the text message.

  “I guess it’s time for me to go,” he said. His smile was forced. “Call if you hear anything else.”

  “Will do.” Grant said.

  I followed him to the door. “Listen, you can always blame me if your grandma gives you a hard time.”

  He smiled. “Don’t worry about it. She always gives me a hard time.”

  I wondered if Bryan had anything to do with the text message, but I didn’t ask. It had come so close to Bryan’s departure, it wouldn’t surprise me.

  “Well, I’ll see you on Monday then.”

  “Definitely.”

  He left, and Grant flopped onto the couch, loading another movie in. “His grandma’s a mean old bat, but he’ll be alright.”

  I sat down next to him and sighed. “I feel bad getting him in trouble.”

  Grant shrugged. “He told me not to worry about it, so I’m not going to. We’ve got enough.”

  The movie started, and I poked Grant’s shoulder. “You’ll tell me tomorrow if you don’t sleep well, right?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re not Mom, you know.”

  I tapped a foot and crossed my arms, giving him a fair imitation of her impatient face.

  He laughed. “All right. I’ll let you know.”

  “Good. I want to make sure all that gritting my teeth and making nice to Bryan was worth it.”

  My brother put on a good face, but I saw the apprehension in his tense shoulders and the glances he kept sliding upstairs. This had better work.

  ***

  Sunday confirmed Grant slept better, since he didn’t emerge from his room until noon. Probably for the best, because by then Mom was up and had commandeered me into helping her clean the third floor.

  When we first climbed the stairs, armed with buckets, mops, rags, and brooms, I thought the sight that greeted me might have been what the end of the world would look like. When I’d been up here with Grant weeks before, it had been dark and we hadn’t stayed long. Down the length of the third floor stretched a long, narrow hallway, with wood paneling halfway up and cracked, peeling burgundy wallpaper on the rest. Dirt and papers littered the corners, and the alcoves, set in the center, were piled high with
old chairs and boxes.

  And just as I remembered, every door on the third floor locked from the outside only.

  I started sweeping the hall, and thought I’d done a decent job of controlling myself, other than the prickling feeling of being watched.

  I don’t think the goose bumps left my arms the entire five hours I spent helping her sort through boxes of trash and junk. Diaries, medical records, doctor’s bills, and random pieces of yellowed and mouse-nibbled paper littered every available surface in the rooms.

  I picked up a dusty journal, the leather binding cracked and brittle with age. The writing was hard to read at first, the old-fashioned loops and swirls faded. The entry described the woman’s day, trapped in her room, tormented by the ghosts of her past that had sent her here.

  I laid the book back on the edge of the cot gently. This was not a happy place.

  Every time I touched a door handle I had to bite my lips to keep from screaming. The metal was cold to the touch. Cold enough that if I hung on too long, I believed it would burn me. We found hospital beds with sheets turned gray with age. A few still had strange copper stains that turned my stomach. I didn’t want to think about what those might have been.

  Mom didn’t seem to care one way or another. She cooed over stoic photographs of men in starched shirts and women with waists too tiny to be healthy. Every once in a while I would find her standing, reading a paper or diary, stroking the necklace like someone pets a cat. It unnerved me even more than I already was. When I heard Grant stir downstairs, I begged her to break for lunch. I’d reached the end of my tether.

  She agreed, and I went back to grab the last box from the room I had almost finished cleaning. The air was cooler here, and I stooped to grab the box from the corner of the room. Without warning I shivered, and the feeling of being watched grew unbearable. My stomach knotted. I knew I wasn’t alone anymore and it wasn’t Mom behind me. Slowly, I straightened and turned around. On the edge of the tiny cot, her head cradled in her hands, was a thin, dark-haired woman. With the little girl, menace had oozed off her form. This one pulled at my heart. Her shoulders shook with sobs I could just barely hear in my head. They were the gut-wrenching cries of someone who had lost everything. I reached out with one hand, the need to comfort her overwhelming.