Terrorscape (Horrorscape)

by Campbell, Nenia

  That was probably a good thing. Mary was studying Val's side of the room, shaking her head. Her eyebrows were drawn down, almost touching, a deep line engraved between them. “She must have been here earlier,” she continued, toeing a crumpled red shirt. “This wasn't here when I left earlier. I don't think I've ever seen her wearing it before.”

  “Maybe she had to go out,” Jade hazarded. He didn't believe this at all—the timing was too convenient—but he also did not want to look possessive in front of Mary.

  “All her stuff was moved around in the bathroom.” Mary folded her arms. “Her bed's rumpled.”

  “Does she have class?”

  “Not this late.” Mary walked around to Val's desk. “I wonder if she even showed up.”

  “Why?” Mary held up a sheet of paper. “She was working on this a couple nights ago, saying it was due today. Really freaking out—I remember 'cause she asked me to proofread it for her.”

  “So something must have happened, between then and now.” Something crunched beneath his sneaker. Jade looked down and saw white dust and a pill bottle, one of those generic orange ones. He picked it up, turning it over. “Ambien.”

  “Don't look at me. I've never seen it.”

  “It's prescription.”

  “Don't wanna know.” Mary made a warding off gesture. “Put it back. I never saw it.” “She'll notice the crushed pills,” Jade pointed out. “Then maybe she'll think she did it herself.” Her eyes landed on the wastebasket.

  “Hmm.”

  Jade heard papers rustling, glanced over, and then shook his head. Going through her trash seemed too invasive. He already felt bad about finding her pills. He was about to say as much when he heard Mary gasp. “What's wrong?” He started to come over, but Mary waved him away.

  “Paper cut.”

  “You think we should wait?”

  “I don't think she's gonna show.” Mary went into the bathroom to wash her hands. “She knows my schedule too well for this to be an accident.”

  Jade sighed. “Wanna go to the DC?”

  She turned off the faucet. “What I'd like to do is go to the cops.”

  “Without talking to Val first?” “She's being awfully cagey about the whole thing. The girl is sketch. I mean, seriously. You don't act like this unless you've got something to hide.”

  “We know she does,” Jade reminded her. “That's enough.”

  Mary didn't answer.

  “Let's talk about it over dinner at least. I'm starving.” Mary locked the door behind them.

  “I hope she's okay.”

  “I think you should be more concerned about yourself. You're the one receiving threats.” Mary hesitated. “If something is wrong, you'd think she'd have warned us.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Belladonna Val ended up falling asleep in the 24-hour study room. She awoke with a crick in her neck and a spine that felt like a cold iron pole. She groaned as she pushed back from the table, flexing her stiffened shoulders. Everything ached except for her stomach, which merely felt hollow.

  For one blissful moment, she could not remember where she was or why she was here.

  It made remembering all the more painful. Because she did remember, eventually. It all came flooding in like a reeking tide.

  Today was Day One. The phone rang as she left the building. She slung her backpack to one hip in order to root through it. Her phone was at the very bottom, and her arms and shoulders ached anew as she contorted them around to reach it. “Hello?”

  “Answering your phone during class?” She stopped walking, and a student opposite her on the sidewalk had to swerve to avoid collision. They gave her an irritated look she did not notice.

  “I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I knew you had a predilection for defiance, yes, but not to what extent. Your behavior was…mm, enlightening, to say the least. I must say, however, that I found your stamina and endurance to be rather lacking.”

  She clapped her hand over her mouth and regretted it immediately as she could smell the bile on her breath. “Fuck you.”

  “Though perhaps your enthusiasm is to be lauded.”

  “Stop twisting my words around,” she told the phone.

  “Oh, I don't need to twist your words around. Not when I have you to do all the twisting for me. Under me, rather. I might almost believe that you'd never had to beg before—but we both know that's not quite true.” His voice, formerly light, now hardened. “Don't we?”

  She wanted to cover her ears, but his voice was like a neurotoxin. It left her dizzied and immobile.

  “Fuck off,” she amended weakly.

  “I won't permit you to speak to me that way.” God, he was horrible. Had he always been this horrible? Or was he that good at hiding it? “Don't you dare hang up on me,” he snarled, making her flinch, because her thumb had been creeping slowly towards the “end” button without her even being aware of it. “You are going to listen to this, every word—and do you know why?”

  She shook her head, then remembered he couldn't see it. It didn't seem to matter.

  “Because you love it when I make you struggle. Where I lead, you follow. Isn't that right?”

  “No. No, it isn't.” “Yes it is. You want someone to make you feel defenseless, vulnerable, hunted. I could kill you, and you can feel that when you lie with me. You love that power, my power—the power that I have over you.” There was a heated pause. “Your body belongs to me more than you, now. I can smell you on my clothes. Fear and desire, and pure, sweet submissiveness.”

  Val looked around wildly, sure that someone would see right through the call. With a cry she hung up on his laughter, realizing only too late that she had just called his threat.

  She took the bus back to the dorms, too focused to worry about her rumpled clothing or to register the faces around her. Her mind's eye kept blinking back to that cold, cruel gaze, and the dark, gravelly voice. If leopards could speak, they would sound like him.

  Val thought she would go to the dorm, brush her teeth, and then head down to the DC to catch the last hour of breakfast. Most of the food would be stale and overcooked. Crispy black bacon—if there was any bacon left—rubbery eggs, soggy hash browns. But even that was better than what she deserved.

  She pushed the door open. The first thing she saw was Mary's face. It filled her anxiety at first sight and it took her a moment to realize why. She had seen that look on the people back home, yes—caution, contemptuous pity, and cold, cold condemnation.

  No. She was projecting again, seeing her worst fears reflected back at her from the fun house mirror her world had become. Mary cared about her. Mary didn't think about her that way.

  Only because she doesn't know the truth. But she did now. One look into her eyes and Val knew. One look into her eyes, and the mirror shattered to pierce her heart with the frozen blades of panic. “What's going on?”

  “Where were you?”

  Taken aback, Val said only, “Huh?”

  “You said you would be here. At six. Jade and I both came here. We waited for you—but you never showed.”

  “Oh. I—I was in the study room.” She looked away. “I guess I forgot.” “Like you forgot about this?” Mary held up a cream-covered envelope Val only just stopped herself from reaching for. A valerian petal was still clinging to the folds. The words, Are you frightened? leered out at her in Lisa's girlish hand.

  Val tugged at a strand of hair. She was finding it hard to breathe. “Where did you get that?” “I found it in your desk.”

  “You went through my things?”

  The pills—the diary entries—the necklace— “Jade got a box full of fake blood. There was a

  chess piece inside. It was cleaved clean in half. It came with a message, too. A warning. A threat.”

  “Oh,” Val said, falteringly.

  “We were scared out of our minds. I wanted to go to the police—but Jade said wait.” There was no escape. The walls were closing in around her, each escape route b
locked off the moment she had it in sight.

  “Do you know what it said?”

  Val looked at Mary again. “What?”

  “The message. The one in Jade's box. Do you know what it said? It said, Stay the fuck away from Valerian Kimble.” Mary stumbled a little over the word 'fuck,' but it didn't slow her down in any way. “We looked up the name,” she said. “We know.

  “We know everything. We know about freshman year—about the house—why you left town. God, Val, you were just a kid. Why didn't you let us know? Didn't you think we should? That I should?” Mary seemed more scared and hurt than angry, though there was definitely anger there. Fear eclipsed the anger; the fear was real, harsh, acrid as lye. It ate through Mary's words and was somehow worse than anger. “Aren't we your friends? Don't you care about us at all?”

  “Of course I do,” Val said hollowly, wondering even as she spoke whether it was true. “Then why didn't you say something?”

  Because the words are knives in my throat.

  “He said he'd hurt you if I said anything.” If I speak, then I will bleed.

  “And you believed him?”

  “No friends.” She was so very tired. “No lovers. No police.”

  It took Mary a moment to speak. Her face was pale. “You went to him.” My heart is dust. I have nothing left to fight for, and still I must fight.

  “You spent the night with him.”

  “He said he was going to cut Jade's face.” “Oh my God, Val.”

  I was afraid like that once, Val thought. Shocked that one being could wish to harm another. Not anymore.

  “I thought he wanted to kill me.”

  “Val,” Mary said. “Oh my God. Why did you do that? Why did you go? He could have killed you.”

  “He didn't, though. He should have, but he didn't.” Instead, he did something worse. He ended my life, and left me breathing so I could feel the void. “Now others are going to die. All because of me. Because I am too weak and too stupid to stop him.”

  And then she burst into tears, because she did not care enough, but cared just enough to care that she didn't. And because, dead or alive, a beating heart can still bleed.

  Mary stepped forward, as if to offer comfort, but couldn't seem to bring herself to touch Val. As if that taint were something that could be passed from one person to another, like disease. Maybe it could and did. Why else would people say that misery loved company? “We need to go to the police.”

  “No.” Val lowered her hands from her face. “No,” she said fiercely. “No police. Didn't you hear me?”

  “Val, he's a killer—I don't want to die.”

  “Then don't call the cops.” Val shook her head. “You can't catch him. Don't you see? He is too smart. I've tried. I've tried and tried and tried, and it doesn't do any good. You can't beat him. You can't fight him. You have to play by his rules, or you lose—and he will break you.”

  Mary took a step back. “You're scaring me.” “You should be scared. You should be terrified.” “Please, just let me—”

  “I said no.” Val swiped the cell phone out of

  Mary's hand. It hit the wall and shattered. She was breathing hard. On some level, she had a picture of herself, of how she must look, wild-eyed, rumpled and disheveled, limbs stiff from sleeping against the hard surface of the desk. She knew she must look insane, or close to it, and she could not bring herself to care.

  Adrenaline flooded through her. It was the key to her chains. It left her buoyant. Emboldened, she said, “If you call the cops, I'll deny it. I'll deny everything.”

  “Val—”

  “I'll show them my medication. They'll think I'm crazy—that you humored me, because you didn't know. Everyone with mental illness is unstable, don't you know? Liable to kill themselves or others.” She smiled bitterly. “Just like the movies. Blame the victim.”

  Mary said nothing, but a trapped look had become fixed on her face like webbing.

  “Look—just don't call the police,” Val said, in a slightly calmer voice. “I'll take care of it. I promise.” When Mary's silence continued, Val turned and walked out of the room, glad that the other girl could not hear the pounding of her heart.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tuberose

  Lisa was calling her.

  No—not Lisa. Him. She knew she should change the ID, but part of her believed she deserved those seconds of hope and violent regret; it served as a reminder of her guilt and her deal with the devil. Val glanced at the sleeping Mary and whispered, “What?”

  “Did I wake you?”

  It was 3 A.M. She gritted her teeth. “What do you think?”

  “That you are in desperate need of some manners.”

  “Fuck your manners.” She shivered as the line crackled, tickling her ear unpleasantly. “Oh, Val, Val, Val—you don't have to settle for just my manners. Three days have come and gone.”

  Just like that, all the fight drained out of her as her stomach crumpled like tissue paper. “But it's three A.M.,” she protested. “The bus—I don't think the bus even runs this late.”

  “That won't be an issue. I've sent a cab. When you get to your destination, call me.” As if on cue, she heard one short loud honk from outside. Mary stirred. Shit. She froze in place, but her sleeping roommate did not wake—and apparently Gavin wasn't going to take “no” for an answer.

  She didn't have time to change out of her pajamas. She tugged a sweatshirt over her tank top and yanked on her track pants, tiptoeing past Mary while adjusting her purse over her shoulder.

  The cab dropped her off at the arboretum. “Wait,” she said, “there's been a mistake.”

  “The fare's been paid,” the driver said. “No mistake.” He drove away. She could hear the chatter of insects, the distant babble of the creek. The dirt paths were kept neat and carefully maintained but the trees and underbrush grew unchecked further along. Bridges connected the two sides of the bank, painted a cheery red that looked black at night.

  She dialed Lisa's number. “Why did you bring me here? Why the arboretum?”

  “To hunt,” he said.

  “It's a reserve,” she said. “Hunting's not allowed.” “I'm bringing in outside game,” he said. “You see, it's you I'll be hunting tonight.”

  “Like that book?” she said, “that horrible book from school?”

  “You have about ten minutes' worth of a head start. I suggest you make full use of it.”

  Then she heard a sound.

  It couldn't have been him. He had said she had ten minutes, hadn't he? She turned her head and the whites of her eyes flashed in the darkness. It had sounded close. To close to be a timid animal. Val stepped off the path and, after a moment's hesitation, plunged into the dark green tangle. Branches snagged in her hair and dug into her scalp. She ran with a hand in front of her face to protect her eyes from the thorny brambles and hook-like twigs.

  She wasn't sure how many minutes had gone by, but surely at least ten had passed. Val halted at the river, unwilling to go back, but not quite daring to go forward, either. Here, the forest thinned, yielding to light residential.

  A twig snapped. Val hesitated—surely it was too cold for leeches— and stepped into the dark water. It was bitterly cold, though not quite frozen. Shivering, she waded under the bridge. On her hands and knees the water was high enough to lap at her throat.

  This whole scenario had the bizarre, surreal quality of a nightmare. She felt as if her brain were swimming through murk, although perhaps that was just the effect of the dirty river water.

  In the shadows, something moved. Val could hear her pounding heart and the small ripples of water lapping greedily at her sides as she backed further into the shadows of the bridge.

  He was wearing dark jeans and the leather jacket, his face like bone in the moonlight. He looked wild, disheveled, and dangerous. Had he been any other man she might have thought he was on drugs. But not Gavin, no—he would allow no poisons to dull the edge of his killer instinct.r />
  He stooped down, picking up a handful of dirt and her heart jumped when his eyes went to the creek bed. He let the crumbly soil from the creek bed sift and fall through the gaps between his fingers and then brushed his hands off on his jeans. Something snapped in the grove of trees to his right—some nocturnal animal, made reckless by the moon—and his head whipped in that direction.

  The woods held their breath.

  And then he ran.

  Val watched him go. She waited several minutes before climbing out of the water. Her sodden sweatshirt was like wet cement. The heavy weight of her clothes left her feeling off-balance. She stripped the garment off and wrung it out, wrinkling her nose at the brackish smell of the water.

  She had never ventured this far into the arboretum before. Some of the students jokingly said it was haunted. One thing for sure, it was no place for a student to be alone, after dark.

  He swung down from the tree, landing on his feet as neatly as a cat, and growled, “Boo.”

  She screamed and fled. He caught up to her at the riverbank and tackled her so that they both fell through the cattails and into the water with a violent splash. The smooth stones dug cruelly into both her knees and she gasped and inhaled the smell of rot and algae and wet leather and sweat. He was laughing, quick growling chuckles that sounded the way she imagined a wolf might laugh.

  “Check, and mate, my dear.” He backed her up further along the bank where it was drier, and her backside touched upon solid, dry soil. Leaves shook, and Val, too, shook.

  She felt dizzy from cold.

  He hadn't kissed her or touched her, but there was a dangerous charge to him that she recognized from before. In this state, he was liable to do anything.

  She shivered when his hands closed around her arms, but it was only to pull her upright. He shrugged off his jacket, then helped her into it one arm at a time. It was still warm—almost hot—from his body. Soon she began to sweat.