Tori’s Halloween plans were falling apart. She’d ruined her visit with her grandmother, and may have robbed her grandmother of future visits from the comfort of her own home. Dumbfounded, Tori stared at her father. Not only had he brought up the fact that she’d been out last night, he’d said nothing to defend his own mother. He sat there with his eyes glued to his plate, fork in hand, his knuckles white with tension.
“You’re not going to stop us from visiting Grandma again, are you, Dad?”
He frowned. “I’m hoping it won’t come to that, but your mother’s right—we’ll need to talk about it.”
Despite Tori’s best efforts, tears had begun trailing down her cheeks. Tears filled Kimmy’s eyes. He whimpered. Great, Tori thought, now he thinks he’s in trouble too.
Her bottom lip quivered. “He should be able to go trick-or-treating. He’s been waiting all year. Please don’t punish him because of me!”
“That’s yet to be decided,” answered her mother. “For now, you’re forbidden from going anywhere near that lantern whether it’s dark or light outside.”
Tori frowned at her mother, and then met her father’s gaze with pleading eyes. Desperate, she said the first thing that came to her mind. “The lantern has a name. It’s Jared.”
Her parents looked at one another.
Tori’s grandmother opened her mouth and shut it again. She smoothed out the napkin that sat on her lap. “Perhaps I did let this go too far. Carl, Megan, please understand—I didn’t mean any harm. I didn’t know just how vivid of an imagination Tori has—”
“I’m serious,” said Tori, not caring that her voice squeaked like a child’s. “I’m not imagining anything. You can come with me and see it for yourself. I’ll prove it to you.”
“Enough of this nonsense!” Tori’s mother shook her head. Seeing the despair written across Tori’s face, she sighed and collected herself. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, hon. You’re usually so reasonable. I don’t know if you miss your friends or if something else is happening. If this is part of a holiday prank you’re setting up, know that I’m not interested. But, baby, if there’s something private that you’d like to discuss with me, then we can chat about it after dinner. Not here at the table.”
Tori clamped her mouth shut, resisting the urge to shout and leave the room. Given her family’s reaction to her news about Jared, she doubted any time would be the right time to discuss what and who she’d found.
She glanced at her grandmother, who looked back at her with interest. Perhaps she still had an ally, despite what her grandmother had said about a vivid imagination.
***
That evening, Tori worked extra hard to convince her parents that her mind was on other things. They’d seemed to soften toward her once dinner was over and they’d had a break from hearing about the lantern.
She sat with Kimmy on the couch, her legs folded underneath her while they played a game of peekaboo. But the lantern didn’t stray far from her mind.
Tori’s mother popped her head in the room. “Want to watch a movie with us, hon? Your father’s setting up a projector in the theater room.” She almost sounded like her old self again.
“Nah, thanks,” Tori said. “I think I’ll just read tonight.” She picked up her brother and handed him to her mother before heading in the direction of her grandmother’s library. She over-exaggerated a shrug, hoping her mother would read it as a sign of defeat. No use raising suspicion, she thought. Tonight I’ll be more careful.
Chapter Seven
Tori sat at a table and pretended to read in the dimly lit room. Her hands held a book with a frayed spine and yellowed pages. The letters on the book’s cover, which appeared to have once been embossed with gold, were scratched and faded.
The wall behind her was filled with additional books, the shelving barely visible through all the volumes, maps, and artifacts. History pervaded the space. Even the curtains that masked the windows in deep shades of burgundy seemed to hide secrets between their folds.
“Oh, there you are.” Tori’s grandmother smiled as she entered the room. The soft skin of her cheek pinched into a dimple. “I thought you might still be upset from your—” She looked over her shoulder before continuing in a lowered voice. “—your parents’ overreactions.”
“Just looking through some old books,” Tori said, changing the subject. No use opening up that wound. She wasn’t done with the lantern, and both she and her grandmother knew it. “I’ve been thinking about going to college to study nursing—to become a nurse like you.”
Her grandmother’s eyes brightened. “That would make me quite proud. I learned a lot about life and people when I worked—before I met your grandfather. But it must be what you want to do, for you.”
Tori flipped through a couple of pages, breathing in the book’s musty smell. She remembered the story of how her grandmother had met her husband at a hospital. She’d taken care of him; and before he’d left he’d asked whether he could see her again. Her grandmother had no idea how wealthy he and his family were. She’d seen him at his worst and loved him anyway.
Tori’s grandmother had continued to work for a short time after they’d married, up until they’d started a family of their own. Tori’s grandfather saw no reason for his wife to continue working; but, knowing her love for medicine and learning, he’d encouraged her to study and read as much as she liked. The library had been his gift to her.
“Did you miss it?” Tori asked. “Not working anymore as a nurse?”
Her grandmother pulled out a chair and sat down. “Sometimes. It was hard work. I enjoyed seeing the patients get well and was glad to have contributed to their recovery. But there was also a lot of death.” Her eyes darkened for a moment before she smiled again. She nodded toward the book Tori held in her hands. “Is there anything in particular that I can help you find?”
“Not really. I’m just browsing. Do you still have your instruments—your blood pressure cuff and stethoscope?”
“Certainly.” Her grandmother stood up and motioned for Tori to follow her to a chest of drawers wedged in the corner of the room. She opened the third drawer and pulled out a nursing bag made of leather and clasped together with a silver buckle. She brought the bag back to the table and laid out the equipment, intently watching Tori, whose attention had gone directly to the stethoscope.
Tori extended a hand to trace the tubing between the stethoscope’s left ear tip to its chest piece.
Her grandmother sniffed. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the lantern, would it?”
Tori froze. “Grandma,” she whispered, “I wasn’t kidding about what I said at dinner. I wasn’t making anything up. I saw someone inside the lantern and he was trying to tell me something. Only he was so small that I couldn’t hear his voice through the glass.”
Understanding flashed in her grandmother’s eyes. “You think you’ll be able to hear him—the voice inside—by using the stethoscope?”
Practically bouncing, Tori said, “I know you think it’s ridiculous, but—”
“On the contrary, dear; I think your idea is rather creative.”
“So you believe me?”
“I’m not sure what to believe, but I can’t imagine why anyone would want to make up a story like that. You seem eager to help this person inside the lantern, so I’m going to let you use it,” she said, sliding the stethoscope toward Tori.
Tori’s eyes widened. “Even if Mom gets mad again? What if she gets Dad to agree that we can’t come visit you anymore?”
Her grandmother huffed. “Sometimes, when things don’t make sense,” she said, pointing to Tori’s chest, “you have to follow your heart. As for your mother, well, we’ll see.”
***
A nursing bag rocked back and forth from Tori’s hand as she ventured into the darkness.
It was a good thing that the bag had a sturdy handle because it was full and heavy. Before leaving the house, Tori accepted additional items from
her grandmother—a small crowbar and a handheld metal cutter that looked like a cross between a pair of pliers and gardening scissors, both found in her grandfather’s workshop. They hadn’t been able to find a glasscutter and Tori was worried that smashing the glass in some other way would harm Jared, so she settled for tools that would help pry or cut off the metal part of the lantern.
There was no turning back. Tori’s grandmother was in on Operation Jared as part of her own crusade to spoil her grandchildren. Tori had to make her time count, especially given that her grandmother had taken extra steps to make sure Tori’s parents wouldn’t notice her absence. At first Tori was hesitant to accept the key to the side door, but she’d agreed that a separate entrance and a different pair of shoes would help cover her earlier mistake of leaving her hiking boots on the porch. Her grandmother also had a master key that she could use to lock and unlock Tori’s room from the outside, in case Tori’s parents attempted to unexpectedly check in on her during the night. Both keys jingled together inside Tori’s pocket as she plodded along in her sneakers.
Once she sensed the first flicker of light, she quickened her steps. Her heart swelled with anticipation. The light was a reminder—a confirmation—that the lantern did exist, that it was real, and that it lit only for her. She’d offered to show her parents the truth, but they’d refused her offer. Part of her was glad they hadn’t come; she’d looked forward to her time with Jared. The light was one matter. The fact that a tiny person existed inside the lantern was an entirely different thing, one that struck a whole new level of disbelief.
The light shined brighter as she rounded the familiar bend that led to the clearing before the woods. Her flashlight briefly lit up the form of a deer. The animal blinked its almond-shaped eyes at her and fled faster than she could suck in a breath.
After taking a moment to let her heartbeat slow down, Tori approached the lantern. Just like the other night, the globe was covered with a spray of condensation, giving the lantern an eerie glow.
Tori set the nursing bag down and stepped closer. “Jared,” she said, remembering to keep her voice soft. “I’m here. Are you?”
Before she finished speaking, a tiny dot formed on the glass, growing and spreading into the shape of a flower with round petals and pointed leaves.
Tori smiled. “Thank you, Jared. It’s beautiful.”
The flower melted away as tiny hands smoothed away more of the condensation, revealing a face with a lopsided grin that appeared larger than the person who wore it.
Chapter Eight
Jared opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again. Dark curls fell against his forehead as he shrugged forward. He pushed them back and frowned.
“It’s okay,” said Tori, pointing to the bag. “I brought tools with me.” She didn’t want to startle him by digging in with the cutting tools, so she pulled out the stethoscope.
Jared’s hands pressed against the glass, his lips slightly parted, as he watched Tori slip the earbuds in her ears and smooth out the stethoscope’s tubing.
“You’ve seen one of these before, right, Jared?”
His lips stretched into a smile. He brushed his head forward, mouthing words she couldn’t hear.
“Just a second.” She placed the chest piece on the lantern in front of Jared, covering his face and shoulders. “Now, say that again.”
“That’s genius,” he said. His voice was soft, a whisper. Given his tiny size, Tori had expected his voice to be high and squeaky like a cartoon chipmunk. But it was smooth and much deeper. Her shoulders and neck tingled. He sounded more mature than the guys at school.
“I can hear you,” she said. “Say something else.”
“Thank you, Tori, for finding me.”
A swarm of butterflies fluttered inside her chest. She didn’t need to use the stethoscope to hear her own heartbeat. She slid the chest piece to the right and looked more closely at Jared within the light of the lantern. Less startled than the first time she’d encountered him, she was better able to make out his features. The outline of his body and planes of his face were well-defined. But they weren’t exactly lifelike. In some ways, he looked softer, lighter, like a hologram of spirit or ether.
Words spilled out of her mouth before she could think about what she was saying. “What are you?”
“I’m not sure. I remember being a person, an apprentice for a mechanical scientist.” His dark eyes clouded with sadness. “And I was happy until my master, Machin, gave me a job tending his lanterns. His shop was filled with them, great and small, crafted with various materials. Some had colored glass and were decorated with fine metals and jewels. I cleaned and took care of the lanterns that were lit and let Machin know if any burned out. He removed the unlit lanterns from the shop and I never saw them again.”
Stunned, Tori stood and gaped while listening to Jared’s story.
“Machin promised he’d make me whole again if I figured out how to open his newest find so that he could light it. At first I was surprised because he hadn’t let me handle any of the unlit lanterns; but I didn’t think much of it, figuring this one was new and unused.” He knocked on the glass. “From what I can tell, the lantern looked a lot like this one. I was pleased when I’d discovered how to open it, using the light of the moon. That’s the last thing I remember until you showed up here.”
Questions buzzed inside Tori’s mind. “What do you mean by ‘whole again’?”
Jared lifted his right pant leg. “I was in an accident when I was six years old. A horse trampled me, breaking my bones and tearing through skin. I got an infection, but my sister thought it would heal on its own. Gangrene set in. I made it to a doctor’s in time, but I lost my leg.”
“But you have a leg,” said Tori. “It looks fine to me.”
Jared looked down and frowned. “No, I lost it—everything from my foot up through my knee.”
Covering her mouth, Tori sniffed in a breath as nausea clenched her stomach. The cool air helped, but it wasn’t enough ease her mind of the extent of Jared’s amputation.
“This isn’t my leg and I’m not myself,” he continued. “If I am a regular person, then how can I survive in here without food or water? I don’t know what I’ve become.”
“I could try and get you out—I brought a crowbar and a metal cutter.”
Jared shook his head. “I’d tried similar tools when given the task of opening lanterns like this; they were no use. The metal and glass are made of materials so dense that no tool would work. I had to resort to alternate forms of technology.”
“Like what?”
“I used a method that I’d learned from Machin, a bending of light that could pass through glass. What I didn’t know was that the light had somehow enveloped me and brought me inside along with it.” He clenched his fists. “If this is his idea of a joke—that being trapped in here with two good legs is enough to make me whole—then he will pay when I get out.”
“Where is Machin? Where does he live?”
“In the same village where I grew up, Havenbrim.”
Tori wrinkled her nose. That doesn’t sound like a real place. “Havenbrim,” she repeated, still doubtful. Even if she were able to help him out of the lantern, she had no idea how they’d get him home. She cleared her throat as another question came to mind. “What was your idea of being made whole? I mean, what did you think Machin would do to fix your leg?”
Jared’s eyes brightened. “Machin was a master at mechanical things. He could make machines that did anything you could imagine. All I’d wanted was a leg made of metal with gears that moved and parts that could bend—just like a real knee and ankle. Before that, I had to hobble around with crutches or a peg leg.”
“I know you said that the tools you used in, um, Havenbrim didn’t open the lantern you worked on, but do you mind if I try the ones I have anyway? You never know. At least we can say we tried.”
Jared shrugged. “Seeing as I don’t have any other plans tonight, I don
’t see why not.”
“Okay, great! I’ll need to lower you from the pole first.” Tori twisted the stethoscope around her neck and removed the handle of the lantern from the pole. She set it on the ground before pulling the crowbar out of the bag, and then wedged the hooked end of it against the lower lip of the lid. Gritting her teeth, she yanked. Nothing budged. She tried repeatedly until beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She mopped them with her sleeve. “Well, you’re right about the crowbar,” she grumbled. “Doesn’t work.”
She tried the metal cutter next. Her best efforts resulted in scraping sounds that made Jared press his hands to his ears.
Tori gave up and sat on the ground. She picked up the lantern and cradled it on her lap before setting up the stethoscope so she could hear him again. “I’m sorry, Jared. I tried.”
“I appreciate your effort. I wish I knew what to do from here.”
“Me too.” She shivered.
“Are you cold?” Jared’s face filled with concern.
“It’s getting chillier out here. Late too. I should probably start walking back to my grandmother’s house soon.”
The lantern glowed brighter, giving off both heat and light. Warmth and comfort seeped through Tori’s skin much like being wrapped in an electric blanket. Her eyes widened.
“How did you do that?”
Jared shrugged.
“Do you feel warmer?”
“Not really. I don’t feel much of anything in here.” He lifted his legs, bending his knees one at a time. “I can’t feel myself standing either.”
“Do you know how the light turns on and off?”
Jared shook his head.
“So strange,” Tori mumbled. She squeezed the lantern as if giving her brother Kimmy a goodnight hug, and then pulled back and pressed her nose to the glass. “I wish I knew how to help you. I’ll come back tomorrow night. Maybe we’ll come up with something then, okay?”
Darkness Echoes: A Spooky YA Short Story Collection Page 26