“That’s because you’re such an attention seeker!”
“Watch out, I think he can hear you … .”
Inside the house was already crowded with guests. It had been vacant so long that the power had been disconnected and the whole place was lit with lanterns and candles. To the left was a sweeping staircase. It was obvious Austin’s parents had let the house go because the stairs looked worn and rotted through in places. Someone had put a candle on the edge of every step and now the wax dripped down, pooling like frosting on the wooden boards. Empty rooms spilled off the wide hallway. I knew drunken couples probably occupied them, but the darkness was still unnerving. We made our way down the corridor, weaving past bodies all decked in various outfits. Some had gone all out in terms of costumes. I caught flashes of vampire teeth, devil horns, and plenty of fake blood. Someone really tall and dressed as the Grim Reaper glided past us, his face completely concealed beneath a hood. I saw Alice in Wonderland (the zombie version), Raggedy Ann, Edward Scissorhands, and a Hannibal Lecter–inspired mask. I gripped Xavier’s hand tightly. I didn’t want to ruin his night, but I found the whole scene slightly unsettling. It was like all the characters from horror stories suddenly coming to life around us. The only thing that took the edge off the eeriness was the constant flow of chatter and laughter. Someone plugged in an iPod dock and suddenly the house was filled with music so loud it shook the dusty chandelier above us.
We picked our way through the crowd and found Molly and the girls in the living room, ensconced in a faded tapestry club lounge. The coffee table in front of them was already littered with shot glasses and half-empty bottles of vodka. Molly had stuck with her original idea and come as Tinker Bell in a green dress, tattered at the hem, ballet flats, and a pair of fairy wings. But she had chosen her accessories carefully and in keeping with the spirit of Halloween. She wore silver chains around her wrists and ankles, and her face and body were smeared with fake blood and dirt. She had a plastic dagger protruding from her chest. Even Xavier looked impressed, his raised eyebrows indicative of his approval.
“Gothic Tinker Bell. Solid effort, Molls,” he complimented. We took a seat on the divan next to Madison, who, true to her word, had turned up as a Playboy Bunny in a black corset, fluffy tail, and a pair of white bunny ears. Her eye makeup was already smudged so she looked as though she had two black eyes. She downed another shot and slammed the glass victoriously on the table.
“You two suck,” she slurred as we squeezed in next to her. “Those costumes are the worst!”
“What’s wrong with them?” Xavier asked, sounding as if he couldn’t care less about her opinion but was merely asking out of politeness.
“You look like Woody from Toy Story,” Madison said, suddenly unable to suppress an attack of the giggles. “And, Beth, come on! You could’ve at least come as one of Charlie’s Angels. There’s nothing scary about either of you.”
“Your outfit isn’t exactly terrifying either,” Molly said in our defense.
“Don’t be too sure about that,” Xavier said. I smothered a smile behind my hand. Xavier had never liked Madison much. She drank and smoked too much and always gave her opinion when it wasn’t wanted.
“Shuddup, Woody,” Madison drawled.
“I think maybe someone should lay off the shots for a while,” Xavier advised.
“Don’t you have a rodeo or something to organize?”
Xavier jumped up, distracted from responding by the entrance of his water-polo team, who made their arrival known to everyone present by letting out a collective and uninterrupted war cry. I heard them greeting Xavier in the hall.
“Hey, man!”
“Dude, what’s with the outfit?”
“Did Beth put you up to this?”
“Man, you are so whipped!” One of them straddled his back like a chimp and tackled him playfully to the ground.
“Get off me!”
“Yee-haw!”
There were a few more hoots of laughter and the sounds of a friendly scuffle. When Xavier surfaced he had been stripped of everything but his jeans. His hair, which had been smoothed back neatly when we walked in, was now ruffled. He shrugged at me as if to say he couldn’t be held accountable for the behavior of his crazy friends and slipped on a fitted black T-shirt that one of the boys tossed him.
“Are you okay, Huggie Bear?” I asked, protectively reaching up to fix his hair. I didn’t like it when his friends played rough. My attentiveness raised a few eyebrows among his friends.
“Beth.” Xavier put his hand on my shoulder. “You have got to stop calling me that in public.”
“Sorry,” I said sheepishly.
Xavier laughed. “Come on, let’s get something to drink.”
After grabbing a beer for Xavier and soda for me, we headed out to the back porch and settled down on a deep sofa that someone had dragged out. Pink-and-green paper lanterns hung from the eaves, casting the withered yard in a soft light. Beyond it, the fields stretched out to the edge of the dense, black woodland.
Aside from the rowdy antics of the partygoers inside, the night was still and tranquil. A rusty tractor stood abandoned in the high grass. I was just thinking how picturesque it looked, like a painting from a forgotten time, when a lacy undergarment floated out of the side window coming to land at our feet. I blushed deeply as I realized there was a couple inside and they weren’t engaged in deep and meaningful conversation. I quickly averted my gaze and tried to imagine what the old house might have been like in the days before the Knox family let it fall to rack and ruin. It would have been grand and beautiful back in the day when girls still had chaperones and dancing consisted of a graceful waltz played on a grand piano, nothing like the gyrating and thrusting going on inside right now. Social gatherings would have been stylish and tame compared to the havoc being wreaked upon the old house tonight. I imagined a man in coattails bowing before a woman in a flowing dress on this very same porch, although in my imagination it was polished and new and honeysuckle wound around the quaint posts. In my mind’s eye I saw a star-studded night sky, the double doors flung open so the sound of music trickled out into the night.
“Halloween sucks.” Ben Carter from my literature class broke through my reverie as he flopped down beside us. I would have answered him, but Xavier’s strong arm encircled me and made it difficult for me to concentrate on anything else. Out of the corner of my eye I could see his hand hanging loosely over my shoulder. I liked seeing the silver faith ring on him—it was a sign that he was taken, unavailable to anyone but me. It seemed oddly out of place on an eighteen-year-old boy so beautiful and so popular. Anyone else seeing him for the first time would take one look at his perfect form, his cool turquoise gaze, that charming smile, the shock of nutmeg hair falling across his forehead and know that he could have his pick of girls.
They would simply assume that like any normal teenage boy, he would be out enjoying the perks of being young and attractive. Only those close to him knew that Xavier was completely committed to me. Not only was he breathtakingly gorgeous, he was a leader, looked up to and respected by everybody. I loved and admired him, but I still couldn’t quite believe he was mine. I couldn’t fathom that I had been so lucky. Sometimes I worried he might be a dream and if I let myself lose focus, he might fade away. But he was still sitting beside me, solid and secure. He answered Ben when it became apparent that I had zoned out.
“Relax, Carter, it’s a party,” he said, laughing.
“Where’s your costume?” I asked, forcing myself back to reality.
“I don’t do dress-ups,” Ben said cynically. Ben was the sort of guy who thought everything was puerile and beneath him. He managed to maintain his contemptuously superior persona by engaging in nothing. At the same time he always turned up just in case he might miss out on something. “My God, they’re sickening.” He wrinkled his face in disgust at the lacy underwear lying on the porch. “I hope I never fall for someone so hard that I agree to have sex in a trac
tor.”
“I don’t know about the tractor,” I teased. “But I’m betting one day you’ll fall in love and there won’t be a thing you can do about it.”
“Not a chance.” Ben stretched out with his arms crossed over his head and shut his eyes. “I’m too bitter and jaded.”
“I could try and set you up with one of my friends,” I offered. I quite liked the idea of matchmaking and was fairly confident in my skills. “What about Abby? She’s single and pretty and wouldn’t be too demanding.”
“Dear God, please don’t,” Ben said. “That would have to be the worst match in history.”
“I beg your pardon?” Ben’s lack of confidence in my abilities was disappointing.
“Beg all you want.” Ben snorted. “My decision is final. I won’t be set up with a cooler-drinking, stiletto-wearing bimbo. We’d have nothing to say to each other except bye.”
“It’s good to know you have such a high opinion of my friends,” I said crossly. “Is that what you think of me?”
“No, but you’re different.”
“How so?”
“You’re weird.”
“I am not!” I exclaimed. “What’s so weird about me? Xavier, do you think I’m weird?”
“Calm down, babe,” Xavier said, eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m sure Carter means weird in the most flattering sense.”
“Well, you’re weird too,” I hit back at Ben, realizing at the same time how petulant I sounded.
He chuckled and downed the rest of his beer. “Takes one to know one.”
The sound of raucous voices coming from inside drew our attention. The screen door was thrown open and a group of boys from the water-polo team appeared on the porch. It was amazing, I thought to myself, how much they reminded me of young lion cubs, jostling and tumbling over one another. Xavier shook his head in gentle admonishment as they stumbled toward us. I recognized the faces of Wesley and Lawson among them. They were easy to pick out; Wesley with his slick, dark hair and low-set brows and Lawson with his white-blond crew cut and hooded blue eyes. They were a dull blue, I noticed, they didn’t sparkle like Xavier’s. Both boys were shirtless and striped with war paint. They acknowledged my presence with a curt nod in my direction and I thought fleetingly back to a time when men would click their heels and bow in the presence of a lady. I returned their acknowledgment with a smile. I couldn’t bring myself to do what my friends called the “s’up nod”—it made me feel as if I were in one of those music videos Molly watched on MTV where men in hoods rapped about “homies” and something called “bling.”
“Come on, Woods,” the boys called. “We’re headed to the lake.”
Xavier groaned. “Here we go.”
“You know the rules,” Wesley called out. “Last one there has to skinny-dip.”
“My God, they really have discovered the pinnacle of intellectual stimulation,” muttered Ben.
Xavier got up reluctantly and I stared at him in surprise.
“You’re not going, are you?” I said.
“The race is a Bryce tradition.” He laughed. “We do it every year wherever we are. But don’t worry, I never come in last.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Lawson crowed as he leapt off the porch and pelted toward the woods at the rear of the property. “Head start advantage!” The rest of the boys followed suit, shoving one another unceremoniously as they ran. They went crashing through the overgrown shrubs and headed for the open fields like a stampede.
Once they’d disappeared, I left Ben to his philosophical brooding and went inside to find Molly. She and the girls had moved and were now huddled secretively in a little cluster by the foot of the stairs. Abigail had a supersize paper bag tucked under her arm and they all looked very serious.
“Beth!” Molly clutched my arm when I joined them. “I’m glad you’re here; we’re about to get started.”
“Get started with what?” I asked with curiosity.
“The séance, of course.”
I groaned inwardly. So they hadn’t forgotten about it. I’d hoped the plan would be abandoned once the girls started having fun.
“You guys can’t be serious?” I said, but they were looking at me with complete sincerity. I tried a different technique. “Hey, Abby, Hank Hunt is out back. He looked like he could really use some company.”
Abigail had been crazy about Hank Hunt since junior high and hadn’t stopped going on about him all term. But tonight, not even he could distract her from the plan at hand.
“Who cares about him,” Abigail scoffed. “This is heaps more important—let’s go find an empty room.”
“No,” I said firmly, shaking my head. “C’mon, guys, can’t we find something else to do?”
“But it’s Halloween,” Hallie said, pouting like a child. “We want to talk to ghosts.”
“The dead should stay that way,” I snapped. “Can’t you go and bob for apples or something?”
“Don’t be such a party pooper,” Savannah said. She got up and began to drag me up the stairs after her. The others followed eagerly. “What could go wrong?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?” I said, pulling away. “What couldn’t go wrong?”
“You don’t actually believe in ghosts, do you, Bethie?” Madison asked. “We’re only trying to have some fun.”
“I just don’t think we should play around with this stuff.” I sighed.
“Fine, don’t come,” Hallie snapped. “Stay down here by yourself and wait for Xavier like you always do. We knew you’d bail anyway. We’ll have fun without you.” She shot me a betrayed look and the others nodded in support of her. I wasn’t having any luck impressing upon them the danger associated with their plan. How could you tell children they were playing with fire if they’d never had the experience of being burned? I wished Gabriel were here. He radiated authority and he’d know exactly what to say to change their minds. He had that effect on people. Here I was sounding like nothing more than a wet blanket. Some ministering angel I was turning out to be. I knew it wasn’t within my powers to stop them, but I couldn’t let them go without me. If anything happened, at least I could be there to deal with whatever they encountered on the other side. They were already climbing the stairs, clutching one another’s arms as they whispered in excitement.
“Guys,” I called out. “Wait up … I’m coming.”
4
Crossing the Line
UPSTAIRS the house smelled musty and stale. On the landing the striped ivory wallpaper was peeling away in sheets from the rising damp. Although we could hear the party raging on below us, it was preternaturally still on the second floor as if in anticipation of some paranormal experience. The girls lapped it up.
“This is the perfect setting,” said Hallie.
“I’ll bet this place is already haunted,” added Savannah, her face flushed with enthusiasm.
Suddenly my concerns seemed disproportionate to the situation. Was it possible that I was overreacting? Why was I always assuming the worst and letting my conservative nature bring down the mood of everyone around me? I scolded myself mentally for always jumping to dire conclusions—what were the chances of these fun-loving girls actually making a connection with the other side? It had been known to happen, but it usually required the guidance of a trained medium. Lost spirits generally didn’t appreciate being called on as a source of teenage entertainment. Anyway, the girls would probably get bored when they failed to get the results they anticipated.
I followed Molly and the others into what had once been the guest bedroom. Its tall windows were opaque from a fine layer of accumulated dust and grime. The room itself was empty except for an iron bedstead pushed up against a grimy window. It had a rickety iron frame that had once been white but had tarnished to a buttery color over time. There was an equally faded quilt scattered with pink rosebuds. I guessed the Knox family didn’t even visit the old country house much anymore, let alone invite guests down for the summer. The window frames looked
weathered by the sun and there were no curtains to block out the moonlight. I noticed the room faced west and overlooked the woods at the rear of the property. I could see the scarecrow standing guard in the field, its straw hat flapping in the breeze.
Without needing any prompting the girls arranged themselves cross-legged in a circle on the threadbare rug on the floor. Abby reached into her paper bag carefully as if she were withdrawing a priceless artifact. The Ouija board she unpacked from its green felt cover was so well-worn it might have passed for an antique.
“Where did you get that?”
“My grammy gave it to me,” Abby said. “I went to visit her in Montgomery last month.”
She placed the board with exaggerated ceremony in the center of our circle. I hadn’t seen one before other than in books, but this one looked more decorative than I’d expected. Around its perimeters, the alphabet was scrawled in two straight lines along with numbers and other symbols I didn’t recognize. In opposite corners and surrounded by curlicues were the capitalized words YES and NO. Even someone who’d never seen a Ouija board before couldn’t miss its association with the dark arts. Next Abby withdrew a fragile, long-stemmed sherry glass wrapped in tissue paper. She tossed the paper aside impatiently and placed the upturned glass on the board.
“How does this thing work?” Madison wanted to know. Aside from me, she was the only other participant not brimming with anticipation. I suspected it was more due to the lack of alcohol and boys in the room than any concern about our safety.
“You need a conductor like a piece of wood or an upturned glass to communicate with the spirit world,” Abby explained, enjoying her role as resident expert. “Strong psychic powers run in our family, so I actually know what I’m talking about. We need everyone’s combined energy for it to work. We all need to concentrate and each put our index finger on the base of the glass. Don’t press too hard, or the energy gets clogged and it won’t work. Once we make contact with the spirit, it’ll spell out what it wants to say to us. Okay, let’s get started. Everyone put your fingertips on the glass. Gently.” I had to hand it to Abby. She was pretty convincing considering I was quite sure she was making everything up on the spot. The girls complied eagerly with her instructions.
Hades Page 3