The Haunting

by E. M. MacCallum

  I tripped over Phoebe. I cringed, expecting a hard impact, and someone caught me from behind.

  Struggling to untangle my legs, I righted myself. My savior surprisingly was Claire, who brushed me off a little too roughly, but it was the thought that counted.

  “Someone’s outside,” I whispered.

  Claire glanced at the window in alarm.

  Joel came up behind her with two opened cans of peaches. He must have found an opener behind the bar. “They look fine,” he confessed. “Even the tin inside doesn’t look that bad.”

  Claire glanced from Read to Joel before making up her mind and plunging her fingers into the can and retrieving a peach.

  Joel nodded towards me. I shook my head, not entirely trusting the cans. I may have been hungry, but I would have to wait a little while longer.

  Claire was about to bite into hers but hesitated when she saw my refusal. “Do you think they’re poisoned?” she asked sharply, her narrowed eyes still darting toward the window.

  Joel went around the room. Cody took a few while Read refused. Joel was the first to eat, which seemed to encourage the other two.

  “What can we do for Phoebe?” I asked Read, kneeling beside him at the couch.

  He shrugged, his expression vacant, giving me no clue to how he was feeling.

  I put an arm around his shoulder, trying to give him some comfort. Read and Phoebe had been friends and neighbors since they were little. I remembered being so jealous because they would invent private jokes in my absence. Not on purpose, but they had been together constantly. Once puberty hit, however, they drifted apart. By high school, they were in opposite classes, and though we would all hang out in the cafeteria, they’d made different friends. It wasn’t until college that they’d started fighting.

  “What’s that?” Read interrupted my reminiscing.

  I followed his gaze to the sheet beside the couch. It had yellowed with either age or cigarette smoke and covering something as tall as the couch arm.

  “We have to figure a way out of here,” Joel said, already taking charge.

  Standing, I brushed off my bare knees; the carpet had left small red imprints in my skin. “We will, Joel,” I said. “Once we figure out what we’re up against.”

  “Maybe it was the thing you saw out the window,” Claire suggested, her usually drooping eyelids widening.

  “What was it, anyway?” Cody asked.

  I stepped around Read. “All I saw was a shadow. I think something stepped past the window, but I couldn’t tell you what.”

  Joel shook his head as if I’d failed a major test.

  I glared at him. We had such an understanding going on for a while there. Stepping around the sheet, I lifted it, keeping my body back just in case. It seemed solid enough underneath, something inanimate.

  Pulling the sheet free, I stared down at a flat, tall stone. The top rounded like an archway, but it was too shadowed for me to see much else. Chewing my bottom lip, I trailed my eyes to the lantern, which Joel left on the bar.

  “How do we carry Phoebe through all this?’ Claire asked. “It’s like Nora said earlier. What if we have to run?”

  “We might have to take turns carrying her,” Joel said seriously, enjoying his new position.

  Cody, standing with them and with a mouthful of peaches, said, “Maybe we can make one of those skiffs that you can drag people on.”

  Joel said, “A travois? What would we make it out of?”

  I walked between everyone and plucked the lantern from the bar.

  “I don’t know,” Cody growled, perturbed at Joel’s condescending tone. “We make it as we go along. It’ll distribute her weight.”

  “And if we end up having to run, we’re in the same position. We can’t run with a travois dragging behind.”

  Cody grumbled something like, “Idiot,” under his breath before saying louder, “Two people can take it if we—”

  Raising the lantern, I halted the bickering with one sharp intake of breath.

  The stones were headstones. There were three of them, layered together against the couch.

  I pointed at the tombstone, and Read craned his neck to see. Joel, Claire, and Cody clustered behind me as we read the inscription.

  “What is it?” Read asked, unable to see from his place beside Phoebe.

  Claire’s round eyes rolled towards Read. “It’s a gravestone. It says: Robin Elizabeth Thurston.” She swallowed hard, peeking at Cody before she continued to read, “Harlot in the hearts and minds of those behind.”

  “Do you think Robin is dead?” Cody asked us, his voice wavering.

  Claire whispered numbly, “She can’t be. Wouldn’t this be in the ground somewhere instead of leaning against a couch in some old basement?”

  She had a point. “It’s meant to scare us,” I agreed. Six months ago, if someone said I would be conversing and even agreeing with Claire Weatherbe, I’d have developed a hernia.

  “What’s the next one?” Joel asked uncomfortably.

  I pulled Robin’s tombstone back, leaning it against my thigh. It was a lot heavier than I’d originally thought. Bracing myself, I raised the lantern to see while holding up the stone. “It’s Aidan’s,” I said, feeling shaky. Aidan couldn’t be dead already. We didn’t even have time to find him, I consoled myself.

  “What does it say? The bottom part?” Joel urged.

  I read it out loud, controlling the sick twist in my stomach. “Finders Keepers, losers Reapers.”

  “And the next one?” Joel urged, snapping me from my heavy thoughts.

  I grabbed the stone and pulled. With the weight of both stones, I was forced to put the lantern down. With Joel’s help, we shoved the first two headstones to the side, leaning them against the wall to free the last. No one else was missing from our group. I somehow expected it to be Cooper’s tombstone, but it wasn’t.

  Raising the lantern, I started to read but faltered. “Phoebe?”

  Read stood up behind me. I didn’t dare look back at him.

  “It says: She was never tough enough.”

  Read’s voice was low and angry behind me. “She’s not dead yet.”

  “None of them are dead yet,” I said quickly. “This is meant to scare us. Remember that.” I wasn’t sure if I was saying it to them or to myself.

  “If they were dead, we’d probably see Cooper’s here,” Claire said, her voice soft enough that I nearly missed it.

  “So this is a trick,” Joel snapped, lifting his chin defiantly. “We can’t let him get to us.”

  Cody nodded in approval.

  “He won’t,” I reassured Claire.

  The groan beside me was startling.

  I looked down at Phoebe; her eyelids were fluttering open. Elated, I dropped to my knees beside her. Seeing her move sent a flash of relief all through me. She was alive. She wasn’t lost to us yet.

  I realized I didn’t want to lose her. At the end of all this, if we’d won, I’d be losing her either way.

  Her dark green eyes were hazy, but she seemed to recognize us as we all popped our heads into her view.

  “How do you feel?” Read asked.

  She croaked, “Like crap.”

  “Help sit her up,” Read said, already moving her legs off the couch.

  Passing the lantern to Cody, I grabbed under her arms and lifted her until I could prop her into a sitting position on the couch. She was sweating. I could feel the dampness at her back and under her arms.

  Easing in beside her, Read on her other side, I placed a hand on her head. “The poison is in again,” I told her. She felt uncomfortably warm. Why did this have to happen now?

  “Not surprising.” Phoebe tried to smile, failing miserably. “I didn’t think he’d give me a free pass this whole time.” Her eyes scanned the room before her eyebrows furrowed. “You guys,” she whispered. “I know this place.”

  “Are you serious?” Joel asked.

  She bobbed her blonde head, still refusing to turn a
round. “This is the basement in my Aunt Mary’s house.”

  “Did your Aunt Mary design tombstones?” Claire asked.

  Phoebe made a face. “No. But this basement used to always creep me out. My aunt used to say it was haunted down here.”

  “Well, that’s a good clue.” Cody wiped his hands on his pants. “Maybe we have ghosts to deal with again.”

  Joel offered Phoebe what he had left of the peaches.

  Taking the can, she peered inside suspiciously. “No one lost a finger in here?”

  Well, her sense of humor hadn’t faded with the oncoming fever at least.

  “Ha, ha,” Joel scoffed.

  The music on the phonograph snapped to a start again. The sound caused us all to jump, except Phoebe, who merely stared at the device with wide, twitchy eyes. From what I could tell, it was the same song.

  “Something’s coming,” Phoebe whispered. The foreign sound of her voice made me bristle.

  “Are you sure?” Joel asked.

  Read was already helping Phoebe up.

  “I can feel it,” Phoebe said. “Can’t you?” Her eyes snapped to me.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t feel anything unusual.

  “Are you sure?” she asked me, her eyes boring into me accusingly.

  Raising my hands defensively, confused by her cutting tone, I said, “Yeah, I’m sure, I’m sure. Why? What’s coming?”

  “That’s what I’m asking you,” she snapped.

  “You feel it. I don’t feel anything,” I snapped back.

  “Fight later,” Joel interrupted. “We have to get out of this corner. If whatever you feel is here, then we’d be trapped—”

  A child-like voice near the bar erupted above the music and our collective whispers. Her voice raised the hair on the back of my neck. She sang, “Too laaate.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  My shoulders raised to my ears as I slowly pivoted on my heels, fearing what I might see.

  A small, lone figure stood at the bar. Her arms were akimbo, like a gunman in a corny old western. Stringy blonde hair wrapped itself around bony shoulders like a shawl. Her skin had a blue sheen. I wasn’t sure if it was the light or because it looked so thin. Her skull was practically visible through the pale flesh. She looked like a ten year old.

  The slender alien figure stepped away from the bar, bare feet silent on the carpet. The sack of a dress swung around her shins, stained with dirt. Dried mud flecked off of her dress as she moved, showering the floor around her feet.

  “Who are you?” Joel demanded.

  She bared yellow, pointed teeth in a barbaric smile, her dark eyebrows arching impossibly high. Joel edged into the larger room but kept his distance.

  Cody whispered, “She looks…dead.”

  He was right. She looked emancipated, like she’d just clawed her way out of a grave. I glanced at Cody, following our group as we sidled toward the opening, away from the girl. “Zombie? Do you think?”

  “Shouldn’t she be asking for brains?” Claire whispered.

  I glanced at her. She was serious.

  I wasn’t sure what the alien-girl should be asking for. “She’s obviously coherent.”

  Phoebe nodded in agreement while Read, who supported her, said, “She did talk to us.”

  The girl stepped closer, and we all fell back. Read stumbled against the phonograph. The song cut short as it toppled to the floor with a crash. Claire shrieked and slapped hands over her mouth, her body rigid and frightened.

  Dead girl’s eyes had glazed over completely. Her entire eyeball shimmered against the lantern-light in a silvery hue, reflecting light back at us as brilliantly as if they were mirrors.

  “This really isn’t good.” Cody looked back at the phonograph as if he might be able to put it back together.

  “Where do we run?” Claire whispered hoarsely, peering out into the long wide room we’d trapped ourselves in.

  “Isn’t there a door?” I asked.

  With her head still craned to see into the room, Claire finally nodded. “Yeah, but it’s not a black one.”

  The strange girl’s sing-song voice rang above our frantic whispers. “Come and play.”

  When none of us responded, she repeated, “Come and play. Come and play. Come and play.”

  She was like a broken record. Every tone in her voice was the same, never changing, sounding robotic.

  “Come and play what?” Phoebe finally rasped.

  A wicked smile spread across the girl’s lips, stretching until it looked fake. “Come and play with me,” she said daintily. Her voice and gentle movements were that of a young girl, but the rest of her was far from such innocence. “We’ll have lots of fun,” she said, silvery eyes shifting and moving the light. Then she began to sing again. “Come and play. Come and play. Come and play.”

  “What is the game?” I asked uneasily.

  Her high, girlish giggle would haunt me until the day I died. “It’s called Is There a Hell?”

  Without missing a beat, Cody said, “I’ll play.”

  “What?” I asked him, but he didn’t reply. “Let’s get out of here,” I whispered to the others.

  Joel didn’t have to be told twice. He snagged Claire, whipping her around the corner with him.

  I reached back to help Read support Phoebe, but Phoebe waved me off, looking annoyed. I tried to hide my disappointment and hurt at the dismissive motion.

  She detached herself from Read as well.

  She hobbled behind Cody, who darted towards the big room, leaving Read and me baffled.

  The young girl stalked toward us, eyes focused, hands out and knees bent as if to pounce.

  With a squeal, I ran after my friends, Read in tow.

  Joel had the dark wooden door swung open wide and was plunging inside with Claire. Then Cody darted in, followed by Phoebe. All of them disappeared into the shadows of the new room.

  By the time Read and I staggered into the darkness, I realized we were in bigger trouble than we had been before.

  Read closed the door behind us, and all went black.

  “Oh crap,” I said, hearing my own voice echo around me. I held still, knowing I needed to keep moving if the girl decided to come through that door, but I couldn’t. Up, down, left, right, it was all muddled in my head. Taking one step threw me into a dizzy spell. “Read?” I asked, hoping I was looking over my shoulder.

  To my horror, he didn’t answer.

  The silence stretched endlessly until I felt my panic rising in my throat. “Read?” I asked again.

  Nothing.

  “Phoebe?” I asked, my voice rising. “Cody, Joel, Claire?”

  My own voice reverberated off the hollow walls, mocking my fear.

  We are separated, I realized, trying to shake off the unease.

  Standing very still, I whispered, “Neive?” Could it be possible that my sister separated me? She was able to save us from the witches earlier…

  I shuffled along, my socked feet scraping against concrete. I kept my hands out in front of me, swinging an arm out to the side every now and then, in case I might find a wall to follow.

  After several uncertain steps, I finally stopped, straightening. Frowning into the darkness, I uttered, “Damien?”

  “Yes?”

  A small light sparked with life.

  There was a candle on a wall only a foot to my right. Damien leaned against the wall, watching me with black, penetrating eyes.

  The candle’s light only cascaded so far, trapping me in a small circle with him. I edged toward the darkness. “Are you here because of the ghosts?”

  “Your power was used to expel it from Phoebe’s body,” he said, straight eyebrows rising.

  “I did,” I said, feeling my insides tremble. He was too handsome, too predatory, too unpredictable.

  Damien pushed himself away from the wall with ease, never uncrossing his arms.

  I shook my head as he stepped closer, feeling the anxiety rise to anger. “Going to p
unch me this time?”

  At this, his step paused, but his gaze never wavered. “It was just a dream, remember?”

  “What about now?”

  He flourished his hands in the light. “Now I’m out of your head.”

  “Probably a good thing,” I said.

  “Indeed.” His smile was faint, unhappy.

  “Where’s Neive?”

  “Assuaging the Fates,” he said.

  “The witches?” I asked, uncertain.

  “Yes, though that was just part of the Challenge. They aren’t actually witches.”

  “Are we talking Greek mythology?” I asked, “As in the three Fates?”

  “Replicas of them. They wanted to see what you’d do. There were so many different paths that they couldn’t predict their weave. So they sent weakened versions of themselves to test it. They, themselves, cannot interfere with mortals, but pieces can.” Damien held up a hand for me to stop when he stepped forward.

  Despite the warning, I stepped back, part way into the darkness.

  Two hands grabbed me from behind. Bony fingers dug behind my collarbones, forcing me to gasp.

  My first thought was of Neive. What had he done to her?

  Before I was pulled off balance, Damien caught my wrist.

  The movement was so fast Damien’s arm was a blur. Behind me, the hand tugged on my shoulder, the possessive nails piercing skin until I cried out.

  For the first time, I saw Damien’s eyebrows furrow as if he were worried. Didn’t he control this? Wasn’t he the all-powerful, all-knowing demon?

  “Damien?” I asked, my voice quivering just a little.

  He didn’t look at me. His dark stare was focused past me, into the shadows.

  I struggled away from the hand, twisting and jerking.

  Damien stepped closer to me, bumping into my shoulder, his hand still clamped down on my wrist like a cold manacle. His free hand reached up with the same lightning speed. All I heard was a crack and an unearthly squeal.

  It was the same eagle-like scream I’d heard in the graveyard.

  Images of the grotesque floating creature made the warmth surge in the center of my stomach.

  A hand snagged me around the waist from behind just as Damien let me go.