The Haunting

by E. M. MacCallum

  I could hear Phoebe breathing heavier, catching up to me. “Did you know that would happen?”

  “No,” I said. “Gretchen just took Read.” I glanced back to see her limp wasn’t quite as visible. Her step had lightened, and she didn’t need Joel or Cody’s assistance anymore.

  My heart lifted at that.

  “Why didn’t you fight to keep him?” Phoebe demanded.

  “What could I do?” I asked.

  “Whatever it is that you can. You’ve done it before.”

  “What?” Cody piped up.

  “Listen,” I said coming to a halt, “I had to let him go.”

  “Had to?” She snorted.

  I flinched, but she wasn’t charging me yet, so that was a good sign.

  “Why are you so calm about this?” Phoebe asked and glanced to Joel and Cody for confirmation. “Our friend could be eaten.”

  “He’s not our friend,” I said.

  “You’re a fucking dick. Where do you—” Phoebe took two steps closer, fists clenched.

  Before she could swing, I shouted, “He was a fake!”

  My outburst stopped everything. No one spoke until my echo had long faded.

  I said, “He wasn’t really Read.”

  “That’s impossible,” Joel said.

  Cody raised a hand as if we were in class. “Not really,” he said. “When we were trapped here, I thought I saw Nora once.”

  “So did I,” Phoebe muttered, hugging herself. “I saw Aidan too, but they weren’t real.” She sucked her cheeks in before looking up at me. “Did Damien tell you?”

  “No,” I said. “At least not outright, but the clues were there.”

  “You can’t trust him,” Phoebe warned.

  That’s what everyone says. “I didn’t,” I protested. “I guessed.”

  “Guessed?” Phoebe bristled, “You guessed?”

  “Are you feeling better, Phoebe?” I asked.

  She paused, and Joel looked her over. “You’re standing on your own again.”

  “Then I made a good guess,” I said stubbornly.

  Before they could ask further, Cody came to my rescue. “We can’t argue about this now.” He started walking again, and we clustered together as a group.

  After a few minutes, Joel asked, “So what if he was Read?”

  I looked up at him, my voice firm. “It wasn’t.”

  Cody shoved his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders. “Did you see it in the vision?”

  When I didn’t answer, he added, “You know, from the witches?” He didn’t look at any of us. “I mean, were they true?”

  I remembered Neive and said, “Mine was.”

  “What was yours?” Phoebe asked cautiously.

  I turned to her and asked, “What was yours?” I dared her to say it out loud.

  We fell stubbornly silent, neither of us wanting to give in first. It was ridiculous really. Phoebe and I had been friends since we were kids. We shouldn’t be fighting like this. We both had our backs up, and though usually I’d let her win, I wasn’t about to today.

  “They’re watching us. We should keep walking,” Cody said.

  I realized he was looking past us.

  We all turned to see two faces in the windows of the caboose. The Reapers pressed their little noses to the glass, the curtains brushed away.

  I said, afraid to turn around, “They’re not chasing us. It could be a trap.”

  “It’s always a trap,” Phoebe retorted.

  We started to hurry away, our steps quick but not quite a jog. And not a single person turned their back fully to the train until it was out of sight.

  Rounding the first bend, I ran into Joel’s shoulder. He didn’t move, solidly built and all. I, however, bounced off him and hit the wall.

  The sickeningly sour smell hit me first.

  Reeling, I covered my mouth and nose and peered past Joel.

  A room sat in front of us, circular and small. A shiny black rock slab that looked like hematite dominated the middle, and we walked single file around it to the only other doorway.

  Torches burned on either side of the room, illuminating it in a jerky orange light.

  The stench grew fouler by the second.

  “I hope that’s not what I think it is,” Phoebe said nasally. She had her nose pinched between two fingers.

  Joel led the way and motioned to the stone table. “Does anyone know this nightmare? Which movie or book?”

  Cody said softly, “Probably not ‘til we see the monster.”

  “If we can help it,” Phoebe said, “I’d rather not wait that long.”

  In the light, I could see the spidery poison hadn’t receded on her legs, but her color had returned.

  “The real question,” I said, “is what’s down there?” I pointed to the darkened tunnel ahead.

  Joel shook his head. “Why don’t you check it out for us, Nora?”

  I heard the edge of sarcasm in his voice and ignored him. Climbing over the rock to get ahead of him, I realized that it was exactly what I was going to do. I glanced at the torches, but they were rigged into the wall. Guess I wouldn’t be taking any light with me.

  I might have been pushing my luck, but Damien appointed me a guardian, and as mad as Phoebe might be with me, she’d have to do. The rest, though, were on their own.

  “I’ll go in first to make sure it’s safe,” I said.

  “Alone?” Phoebe asked incredulously.

  “Yeah. No point in dragging you guys into danger.”

  “What about you?” Phoebe asked.

  “He wants me alive,” I said.

  Phoebe sobered and exchanged a glance with Joel.

  “Are you sure?” Cody asked. “Maybe I should go in first.”

  “What is with you?” Phoebe asked him. “You’ve been diving at everything lately.”

  “I’m going,” I said firmly and stepped through the opening before anyone could argue. “If it’s too far, I’ll come back and we’ll go together.”

  The shadows fell around me invitingly cold. I hugged myself, inching further until the darkness swallowed me whole.

  “Nora?” asked Cody.

  “I’m still here,” I answered. I unlatched my arms and spread them out. I felt the smooth stone walls on either side of me. Trailing my fingertips along them, I discovered they were blissfully dry. I didn’t know if I could have dealt with sticky or wet without seeing it.

  My toes curled at each step, feeling for any unexpected holes or stairs through my socks.

  “Keep talking to us,” Phoebe’s voice carried down the corridor, echoing.

  The smell became worse, if that was possible, and speaking forced me to taste it. I gagged, the sound echoing back.

  “That’s nice,” Phoebe said flatly.

  “It’s worse here.” I pinched my nose, keeping the other on the wall, but the damage was done. I fought my gag reflex and ignored the saliva that flooded my mouth.

  “What do I say?” I asked after a pause.

  “Anything,” Phoebe urged, concern in her voice for the first time since we had encountered the witches. “Sing a song,” she suggested.

  Oh, that would be rich. “Uh,” I said, embarrassed, digging through my memory for the first song that came to mind.

  I said the words in a melody rather than sing them.

  Phoebe’s snorting chuckle echoed back to me.

  I sang and hummed a nasally “Hotel California.”

  Even with my nose plugged, I still struggled to keep the bile from rising. My stomach clenched. I tried to focus on humming the tune instead, but it wasn’t easy.

  A voice reached me, not from behind where my friends clustered together but in front of me.

  “Please,” the tiny voice pleaded.

  “Claire?” I asked. “Claire, is that you?”

  “Don’t come in,” she warned.

  I ran into what felt like a thin wooden door. It bounced under my thump; otherwise, I might have mistaken it
for a dead end or a wooden wall.

  I whispered, “Claire, I’m coming to get you.”

  “No,” she said softly, “please.”

  Ignoring her, I fumbled for a door handle. It was higher than most door handles and took me several seconds to find it.

  My fingers clasped around the long handle up by my shoulders. It wasn’t locked as I pushed it downward.

  I heard Phoebe shout, sounding distant. “Fuller?”

  I had stopped singing.

  Flinging the door open, I called back over my shoulder, “I have Claire!”

  I was grateful I didn’t look into the room first; I might not have been able to shout.

  It was Phoebe’s aunt’s basement again. The dim lights overhead shone enough to show Claire. She was laid out on the wooden table, her hands bound in front of her with rope. She sat up the moment I flung the door open. Her eyes wide, she nearly screamed, “Don’t look!”

  People need to learn not to say that.

  I followed her gaze towards the stairs and saw the bodies. A mountain of bodies. Most of them were naked and formless. Limp, rotting corpses of men and women but they weren’t them anymore—discarded and cold and writhing with maggots.

  They were piled high, possibly seven layers of corpses all the way up the stairs. Limbs spilled out onto the carpet. But over them, I could make out a door.

  The cloying stench was overpowering as I staggered back into the tunnel.

  I could hear the quickened footsteps of my friends from behind just as Read came out from the nook where the phonograph had been. He wore a white clean apron over his clothes, his eyes cold and detached.

  At first I was relieved, then dread flooded in a rush of adrenaline.

  His arm was still bandaged, and he held it close to him. In his opposite hand, he held a large, shimmering meat cleaver.

  Walking up beside Claire, Read grabbed the ropes around her wrists, tugging them closer to him, twisting her body to half face him.

  Whimpering, Claire turned teary eyes to me, begging. She tried to lean away from Read but wasn’t gaining much distance.

  Joel shoved me aside as he launched himself at the Read-impostor.

  I called out, catching myself before I stumbled right into the mounded corpses.

  Instead of speaking, Read raised the meat cleaver and slammed it down at Claire’s useless leg nearest him.

  Joel froze.

  The cleaver didn’t slice, rather slammed beside her leg.

  Claire’s breath quickened, and I saw the blood blossom through her jeans where he’d nicked her. I also noticed that her legs hadn’t flinched. In fact, they hadn’t moved at all since I came in.

  Phoebe and Cody appeared in the doorway. Their drained expressions revealed that they saw the whole thing.

  Phoebe’s eyes darted to meet mine.

  I think it was an apology. The defiant fire no longer lingered; there was just sadness.

  “I didn’t want it to happen this way,” Fake-Read confessed in Read’s actual voice. His posture changed, however. Though he looked like Read, there were subtle differences. His movements were fluid and quick.

  He dislodged his weapon and smiled, closed-lipped and smug.

  “Where’s Read?” Phoebe asked.

  The Fake-Read’s grey eyes snapped to her. “If I tell you, that would be cheating.” The instant he said the word cheating, he looked at me.

  I felt my shoulders hunch. “I haven’t cheated,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “How the hell could she cheat?” Joel asked, his eyes trained on Claire, but he spoke to Fake-Read.

  “She hasn’t told you?” Fake-Read’s lips formed a cruel smile.

  “Told us what?” Cody asked, glancing at me.

  Fake-Read clucked his tongue and shook his head. It wasn’t until the smile became lop-sided and mocking that I knew.

  “Stop it, Damien. It’s not just me that you’re hurting. It’s Neive, too.”

  Phoebe gaped. “That was Damien the entire time?”

  I had to agree with her shock. I wouldn’t have thought he would put himself amongst us.

  Read’s wavy hair darkened to Damien’s midnight sheen. His face altered, the jawbone widening, the brow lowering, and the cheekbones standing out.

  Still wearing the apron over Read’s clothes, Damien said, “Full of surprises.”

  Shaking off the disbelief first, Joel said, “Let Claire go.”

  “No,” he answered flatly, seriously. “We’re going to play a game.”

  I didn’t realize I was backing away until I stepped on Cody’s foot. Luckily, my socked feet didn’t disturb his sneaker enough to hurt him.

  “I know,” Phoebe said softly.

  “Know what?” I asked. She didn’t break eye contact with me, speaking some foreign language at a volume I couldn’t decipher. “Know what?” I repeated in a whisper.

  “What Damien is talking about.”

  “The game?” Joel asked.

  She shook her head. “Your secret,” she said to me.

  I swallowed hard, preparing myself. Damien said he would try to turn them against me. From the look in Phoebe’s eyes, I wondered if he had already succeeded. Before, it was laughable, but now?

  I acknowledged her with a nod. I couldn’t deny it at this point. How did she find out? Who told her? Then it dawned on me, the witches. That was why she had acted so distant afterwards.

  “Could you have saved Cooper?” she asked slowly.

  This drew Joel’s attention immediately.

  “This isn’t the time, Phoebe,” I said, nodding towards Claire.

  Damien’s smooth voice mocked me. “When is the time, Nora?”

  I glared at him. “What’s your game?”

  “What do you mean—could she save Cooper?” Joel asked, muscles taut and twitching.

  I shook my head, partially as an answer and partially because I didn’t want to do this right now. In fact, I’d rather keep it a secret forever.

  Damien said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she could have saved Cooper.”

  He lied, of course. Damien had been there. He’d had Neive stop me. “No, I couldn’t,” I growled, glaring at Damien hatefully. “What do you want, Damien?” I snapped, my patience fraying.

  “Truth or Dare,” Damien said, the dangerous smile spreading as he flipped the cleaver in his hand.

  Phoebe snorted. I couldn’t blame her. The easiest way to swing through truth or dare unscathed was to normally always pick truth.

  Damien laid out the new Rules. “If you lie during any of the truths, I will sever a limb on this girl.” He slapped a hand down on Claire’s thigh. The sound was sharp and piercing against her jeans. We all winced except Claire. Tears trickled down her face, reddening her cheeks and nose.

  Joel snarled, and Damien waved him off. “She can’t feel her legs. A gift considering that’s where I’ll start.” He placed the cleaver just over her ankle; the sharp blade glinted in the dim light.

  He didn’t push down. Instead, he rested the weight of it against her jeans. “As for Dare, if you refused to do it or cheat,” he didn’t look at me this time, “then she loses something. Also, you have to choose truth and dare, not just one or the other.”

  “Damien…” I started but hesitated the moment his cold eyes swept up from the blade to me.

  “Who wants to start?” he asked, his expression dark.

  Naturally, no one said anything.

  Joel spoke up. “Don’t you hurt her.”

  “That is entirely up to you,” Damien answered.

  The two men gauged each other. “How do we win?” Joel asked.

  Good question.

  “You could ask questions and make up retarded little dares all you want,” Joel pointed out, “but when does it end? When is she free?”

  Damien nodded, unperturbed. “Two rounds each. In return, you can have your girlfriend back and…this.” He motioned to the corner, where the phonograph and couches hid.


  On cue, Gretchen stepped around the corner, holding one of the silver rings in the palm of her hand.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Gretchen’s silver eyes changed back to something resembling normal.

  If it wasn’t for the sadistic smile, she might look like a Feed the Children ad…with extraordinarily high eyebrows.

  “What about her?” I motioned to Gretchen. “Will she give us trouble?”

  Damien glanced at Gretchen. “Will you give them trouble, Gretchen?”

  She kept the smile plastered on her face when she said, looking at him, “Not yet. You said I could come back later.”

  “Later?” I asked.

  Damien nodded and said to me, “Gretchen is a Sanctioned.”

  “She’s real?” I demanded, horrified.

  “I thought everything was made up,” Phoebe whispered. “Mostly, though some of the Challenges were even in real realms where you met and maybe even killed real people.” Damien paused for effect. “Gretchen is from another world, not a realm. She passed through and couldn’t resist your group. I could hardly deny her.”

  “He couldn’t deny me,” Gretchen corrected. “We have a deal.”

  “What deal?” Phoebe asked.

  “None of your business,” Damien answered coolly and lifted the cleaver to waggle it in our faces. “Ready, I presume?”

  Of course we weren’t, and no one volunteered an answer.

  “Joel,” Damien said, his eyes shifting to the one closest to him. “Truth or dare?”

  Joel squared his shoulders and stood soldier straight. “Truth.”

  Damien gestured to Claire using the cleaver. “Tell her about Bess.” He let go of the rope around her wrists and hovered the blade over Claire’s ankle. It was so casual and cold it made my heart twist. He’d chop her foot off and we’d have to watch, and I didn’t think he cared. At least, he wasn’t showing it. I glanced at Gretchen. Was it because of her? Or was this the demon all along? Maybe I always looked for decency that wasn’t there.

  Both Joel and Claire’s eyes widened at the mention of Bess.

  Obviously, this was a subject that hadn’t been breached between the two of them. The rest of us knew about Bess.

  Claire watched Joel, her expression tensed.

  “Bess was my ex. The one that died.” Joel glanced at me.

  I pretended not to notice.