by Joy Elbel
“More info bout wraiths—get here early 2morro. Very important!” Although I had no idea what she was going to tell me, I knew it couldn’t be good. With the rapid deterioration in my perception of the theater, I needed all of the help she could give me.
When my alarm went off a half an hour too early, I hit the snooze and rolled back over. I was having a good dream for once so I closed my eyes and tried to recapture it. I was at the All American Diner eating the best bacon and eggs I could imagine. Everyone I cared about was there—Zach, Rachel, Boone, my parents, Zach’s parents, even Andy and Rita. For some odd reason, Drake and Crimson were there, too. That still didn’t make it a nightmare, though. Drake was happy and smiling and Crimson was definitely alive and in good spirits. The only glaring omission from our little breakfast soirée was Lucas.
Everyone was laughing and having fun. Somehow I was lucid in the dream—I kept waiting for things to get ugly and for the nightmare to start. But it never happened. When it was time to leave, I was first in line for the door. A tap on my shoulder sent a sweet wave of electricity down into my chest. It was a beautiful sense of déjà vu. And then something bit my ear. Hard.
I woke up to find Coco with her teeth firmly clamped around my ear lobe, tugging at it with all her might. The alarm was going off again and she was trying to lift my head off of the pillow.
“You can let go now, Coco. I’m awake.” I flicked the switch on my alarm clock and propped myself up on my elbows. Satisfied that her work was finished, Coco gave me a quick head butt then nestled beside my pillow and quickly went back to sleep.
“Must be nice,” I grumbled as I dragged my sorry ass to the shower. If all I had to worry about was where to take my next nap, life would be good. Forgetting that I had to make it to Something Wick-ed thirty minutes earlier than normal, I had apparently hit the snooze button at least three times. There was simply no time to make myself look perfect today.
With my escort due to arrive in ten minutes, I blow dried my hair quickly and ran the flat iron down each section once. My hair looked awful! So I grabbed the spray gel hoping lightning would strike twice. After two minutes of scrunching and twisting, my hair looked even better than it did the day we went to Pittsburgh. And not a moment too soon.
The roar of his engine greeted me as I stepped onto the porch. As I walked to my car, he blew the horn. I’d never heard his horn before—it was very, well…masculine. It was nothing at all like the friendly little beep of the Neon. His horn said, “I’m a man who’s in control—get out of my way,” as opposed to “Hey there, you, would you mind stepping aside for a second so I can get past? Thanks, you’re a total sweetheart.” Lucas was waving me over and motioning for me to get in so I did.
“There’s really no use in us taking two cars, is there? Besides, if I’m going to be guarding your body, I’d like it to be as close to mine as possible.” Then he flashed that smile, the one that got me every time.
He had such a way with words. He could turn the most innocent of phrases into a double entendre. I used to find it annoying but lately, endearing was the more correct way to describe it. It was fascinating to interact with him—I saw him as how Lee would have been if his life hadn’t been tainted by tragedy. Would I have been that different if my mother hadn’t died? If Lee had survived the bridge collapse? The questions were endless but the answers were something I would never find.
“You did something different with your hair,” he stated as we pulled out onto the main road. “I like it.” “Thanks,” I gushed. He didn’t need to know it was a last minute fix to a horrible straightening job. Girls had to keep some things secret. That was half the fun of being a girl.
Lucas walked me to the door of the shop and waited for Rita to let me in before driving away. Rita studied him with a confused look on her face but didn’t ask me any questions. She seemed too anxious for some ghost talk to bother asking for details on my love life.
“Thanks for coming in early. I finally had a chance to talk with Gerald yesterday. He had some interesting information for me.”
I followed Rita to her office and we both sat down. She pulled a notebook out of the top desk of her drawer and opened it flat on her desk. She leafed through to a page full of furiously scribbled notes. I sat back and listened intently as she recounted the story.
“I got more details on that wraith. He encountered that particular entity at the site of an old brothel, The Red Horse Saloon. The place was infamous in the late eighteen hundreds for every manner of illicit activity. Gambling, prostitution—you name it. The building was located just outside a small town of religious zealots who petitioned loudly to have the business shut down. Once all legal means of removal were exhausted, the townspeople took matters into their own hands.”
“One night after a rousing sermon against sins of the flesh, about a dozen drunken men marched to The Red Horse Saloon armed with shotguns and cans of kerosene. What started out as a wage against sin, turned into a display of the worst depravity imaginable. The prostitutes were tied to their beds and raped before the place was set on fire. Most of them died from the smoke but one young girl in particular, Rosemarie, was said to have actually burned to death. Her screams could be heard well into the night.”
“By morning, the saloon’s occupants were nothing but a pile of charred bones and ashes. The perpetrators of those heinous crimes were never brought to justice—there were far too many prominent members of society involved. The townspeople simply looked the other way and pretended that nothing ever happened. Over the years, many different structures were built on that site—a slaughterhouse, several factories, an office building, and eventually even a department store. Each one of them ended up the same as The Red Horse—reduced to rubble. fires or explosions. The leveled by what shoppers claimed was an earthquake. The Texas Seismology Institute located only ten miles away reported no seismological events that day within 500 miles.” They all fell victim to mysterious department store was actually
“Gerald came across the spot accidentally. He was doing a lecture series at the local university on the scientific approach to paranormal research. The lecture hall just happened to be situated over the remains of the saloon. The very first night he was there, he said he could feel a presence unlike any he had ever felt before—something dark and menacing. With each passing night, he grew more uncomfortable there. He experienced burning sensations throughout his body and smelled the unbearable stench of charred flesh that wouldn’t go away. The lecture hall itself appeared to be scorched and blistered but when he noted that fact to another lecturer, she acted like he was crazy. His microphone caught fire two nights in a row.”
“Eventually, he began researching the history of the property. That’s when he made the connection between Rosemarie’s death and the seemingly unavoidable destruction of any structure built there. I wasn’t aware of this but Gerald actually coined the term wraith to describe her. He dropped out of the lecture series and that very night the hall became an uncontrollable inferno. The fire originated at the podium just minutes after the building emptied. As the final speaker on the program, he would have been at that podium when it went up in flames. To this day, he remains convinced of two things—that Rosemarie was most powerful when there was a ‘seer’ in the building and that her intention was to kill him.”
I slumped down in my chair in defeat. “So what you’re telling me is that Allison’s plan is to kill me and take the Bantam down in the process.”
Rita closed her notebook and rested her elbows on the desk. “Possibly, Ruby. Gerald theorized that a wraith’s intended target is the person responsible for his or her death. But if that isn’t possible, they will settle for killing anyone who can see them. There really isn’t enough information about wraiths for me to say for sure. The only thing I’m certain of is that every time you go into that theater, it could be your last. Please reconsider this little project of yours.”
Now I knew what they meant when people spoke of being ca
ught between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, I felt like that theater was the only place where I could find what I needed to stop a serial killer. On the other, going in there was dangerous and someone else could end up dead— that someone being me, of course. Now what?
I couldn’t make up my mind. So I didn’t. “I’ll think about it, Rita.”
She frowned disapprovingly. “Think long and hard.” As she picked up her bags and headed for the door, I remembered what Brian said to me about the legendary Phantom of the Bantam. Why hadn’t I thought to ask Rita about it sooner?
“Hey, before you leave, I have one last question for you. I heard the rumor that the Bantam has been haunted for decades—long before Allison could have been the culprit. Do you know anything about that?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. Years ago, theater workers claimed to hear the sound of footsteps at night when the theater was quiet. I checked the place out about ten years ago and found nothing. The mythical phantom is just that—a myth.”
“Awesome! Thanks, Rita.” Finally a piece of good news from her lips. “Don’t get too excited. Allison is still very much a threat—don’t forget that,” she replied as she walked out the door. “You’re messing around with something even I’m too afraid to touch.”
Once again, my joy at hearing good news was short lived. I had a lot of serious thinking to do. And think was all I did—not just about Allison, either. Lately, my life had boiled down to nothing but a series of tough choices. Zach or Lucas. Pendleton or Trinity. Protect my own life or save someone else’s. Do what my dad wanted me to do or trust in myself? They were no win situations, all of them. No matter what, I would hurt someone I cared about. Was there even a right answer to any of it? Life used to be so much easier.
When I was younger, growing up used to seem so glamorous and carefree. I couldn’t wait for the day that I could do whatever I wanted without having to ask anyone for permission. But I was quickly finding out that it didn’t exactly work that way. Doing what I wanted came with consequences. And, hell, sometimes I didn’t even know what it was I wanted. It was even possible to want two conflicting things at the same time. People always ask little kids what they want to be when they grow up. If someone asked me now, my answer would be “little again”.
I struggled with the big questions until closing time, no closer to any decisions than when I started. When Lucas knocked on the door just after I locked it, at least one decision was made for me. There wasn’t enough time for him to drive me home without making himself late for rehearsal. Look out, Allison. Here I come.
With only three weeks until opening night, Jonas was starting to feel the pressure of so many interrupted rehearsals bearing down on him. In return, he passed that burden along to us.
“No, no, no! The line is ‘Come away with me, Kira for all time!’” he shouted to Lucas when he flubbed his line. “And you have to say it like you mean it!”
The normal air of death and agony in the theater now came with an extra layer—frustration. Jonas set me to the task of typing up the cast list for the playbill.
“Here’s my laptop—you can use one of the dressing room tables as a desk,” he said hurriedly before scolding Rachel for her unenthusiastic delivery.
I took the computer and the list of who was playing which part and ducked down the hall to the dressing rooms. Sure, I didn’t relish the idea of being alone in the theater after what happened in the bell tower but at the moment, Jonas’s temper was just as frightening as Allison’s.
It would have made sense for me to set up shop in the closest dressing room but when was the last time I actually made sense? Instead, I walked past every door until I reached the one all the way at the far end of the hallway. It was the same room where I’d hung the costumes weeks ago—the room where I felt like I was being watched.
I opened the door and walked inside with just the light from the hallway to guide me. Everything felt normal— no sense of watchful eyes on my back. Satisfied that the only abnormal thing in the room was me, I flicked on the lights and sat down at the dressing table. That’s when the feeling hit me.
I was being watched. The room was quiet and with one glance in the mirror, I could see everything behind me which was nothing but the bare wall. There wasn’t a single person—or entity—in sight. But even so, I had the same feeling I would get in study hall when I would look up and find some dorky freshman boy trying to catch a peek at my cleavage. Someone was in the room with me but where were they hiding?
Just like the last time, I searched the room but found nothing. What was causing me to feel like that? I sat back down at the laptop and began to type up Jonas’s list. But with every other word I typed, I found myself glancing into the mirror to make sure no one was creeping up behind me. The scenery never changed but the feeling grew stronger until I couldn’t bear it any longer. I closed the laptop and ran out of the room.
I walked back into the auditorium only to find something even more uncomfortable. The cast was seated in the front row all looking like deer caught in the headlights. Jonas was the oncoming car.
“I will NOT have my name attached to such sophomoric acting! This production was supposed to put the Bantam back on the map!” He flung out his arms dramatically and as if on cue, a sharp crackling noise followed by a high pitched squeal sounded behind him.
The microphone sitting mid-stage began vibrating from the feedback issuing forth. The noise increased in pitch until it became too painful to bear with the naked ear. Jonas clasped his hands over his ears as he gave a sharp yank on the cord to unplug it. But once the cord was free from the outlet, the noise grew even louder. He froze in place momentarily then grabbed the microphone and began to beat it off of the floor. Jonas smashed the head of the mic against the floorboards until it was broken into multiple pieces. With a slow whine, the noise wound down until the theater was silent.
“JACKSON!!” he screamed until the lumbering maintenance worker shuffled into sight. “Clean this up!” Jackson ambled onto the stage and began to pick up the tiny pieces one by one and throw them into the garbage. Jonas lost it.
“Use your broom, idiot!” he said shoving the push broom and dustpan in his direction. Jackson stared blankly at him and continued to pick up the pieces singly by hand.
Jonas raised his hand as though to strike him. Jackson creeped me out but I couldn’t just sit there and watch him take a blow he didn’t deserve. He was an adult but he probably had the mental capacity of a five year old, for cryin’ out loud! So I spoke up.
“Jonas!” I cried out. Jonas turned to face me, obviously stunned. Suddenly, I wished I hadn’t called attention to myself but it was too late to shut my mouth now. “I don’t think he understands you.”
Jonas laughed mockingly. “He understands more than you think he does. He got fired from his maintenance job at the campus when they caught him selling top notch research papers to students. He sold hundreds of them on every topic you can imagine—from psychology to ancient civilizations. Imagine the dean’s surprise when he realized Jackson wrote them all himself.”
What? I studied the face of what I’d always assumed was a mentally retarded man and saw something I hadn’t seen there before. There was something cold and calculating lurking just beneath the surface. And I started to look at things in a whole new light.
I said nothing more, just handed the laptop to Jonas, and sat down between Lucas and Rachel. The looks I got from both of them told me that I wasn’t the only one who was confused. Once again, rehearsal was cut short. Jonas excused us all and disappeared offstage.
“What was all that about?” Rachel whispered as everyone filtered toward the exit.
“I don’t know. All I know is I feel like I don’t know anything anymore.” We were the last three to leave the theater. Lucas held the door open for us and Rachel stepped out onto the sidewalk. As my foot was about to cross the threshold into a more sane world, there was a tap on my shoulder.
Jackson stood behind me
, a bouquet of artificial red roses in his hand. He held them out to me and I inhaled sharply. My gasp caught Lucas’s attention. He let go of the door and it swung back against its frame with a loud bang. Snatching the flowers from his clenched fist, Lucas threw them onto the floor.
“She’ll never marry you, you psycho!” Protectively, Lucas placed his arm around my waist and ushered me out the door. Without stopping to talk to Rachel, Lucas got me into his car, locked all of the doors, and drove away.
32. Crystallized
Everything suddenly became clear and sharply focused in my brain. Drake wasn’t the killer after all, Jackson was! He very well could have been on campus at the same time as Allison.. Mr. Fantastic could have been an alias he used to keep his identity hidden from all but his most trusted buyers. Allison probably approached him for a paper and he became obsessed with her. When she started dating Drake, he snapped and killed her. The pieces all fit neatly into place now—it all made sense. And that made the whole game twice as dangerous. Now that I knew the truth, I really needed to watch my back.
“So where exactly is the police station in this town?” Lucas asked as he drove around the block one more time looking for it. “I thought it was on this street but I don’t see anything.”
“Forget about the police station. What I really need to do right now is talk to Zach.” In my heart, I knew I was right about Jackson but I was too emotional to make such a big accusation. After that final scene in the theater, Lucas wasn’t that much better. I could see that the rush of adrenaline he felt when he confronted the killer was still very much affecting him. Zach would be the only voice of reason, the only one who would see the situation clearly.
“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “We’ll go back to your house and call him.” “No—I want to see him. I don’t care if my dad grounds me forever—I want to see Zach in person.” Even with Lucas by my side, the second I realized that killer was standing right in front of me, I was scared. The only way I ever felt truly safe was when I was with Zach.