It was a tempting offer, and unlike the last time he asked, I was pretty sure he wasn’t a psychotic murderer. But between the suggestive comment I’d thoughtlessly made on our last parting (you know, the one about seeing a lot more of each other) and the charade he’d witnessed with Reed, not to mention the raunchy novels, I was hard-pressed to convince him I wasn’t a complete trollop.
I figured spending the night might send the wrong message, maybe he’d take it to mean I was easy. So I said, “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.”
That signaled the end of our conversation, and with a nod, he left. I always felt bereft after he’d gone, especially just then when I’d been hoping for another kiss. Had I done something wrong? Had I put him off?
I found my answer in the bathroom mirror. Obviously it was the pajamas.
* * *
I was hunched over the desk, busy putting together Sterling’s next order of cleaning supplies, when I got the unmistakable impression that someone was behind me. I knew I was alone in the office but I turned anyway, glancing suspiciously over my shoulder. Above me the clock ticked steadily and behind me all was as it should be. Or so it appeared. But there was a strange tickle and itch at the back of my neck, a feeling that put me in mind of the rising hackles on a dog.
Shuddering, I turned back to my work, the half-finished list in front of me. I’d just taken up my pen when a swiftly moving shadow pressed closer. I could feel it at my back. The temperature abruptly changed, going from comfortable to chilly in an instant. The air escaped my lungs on a frightened exhale as I watched the sheet of paper press itself flat against the desk, a palm print visible.
“You shithead!” I lashed out with my arm, swinging through the space around me where I thought he loomed. Smith was not there, but for a moment I had seen something. It was gone so quickly that all the details escaped my mind. So quickly in fact, that I might have convinced myself it was all imagined. Only I knew better than that.
Was this what it felt like to be haunted? Your body sensing something your mind can’t comprehend. I had no one to blame but myself. It was just as Nancy Bristow said—I was making the ghosts soulier. How long had I been oblivious to Smith’s skulking around Sterling’s before the ring came to me? How could I have missed this feeling? This out of sorts, edgy distraction.
I wasn’t sure what I was wishing for more—the ring back, or that I’d never worn it at all.
This morning I’d hardly noticed its absence. The dog was always going away to wherever for periods of time. And after waking up I’d been too busy obsessing over Lucas to wonder if it was there. But Smith was here, I knew it, and the bastard was haunting me.
“Adelaide, are you alright?”
I jerked at the sound of Stephen’s voice, surprised to see him standing in the open doorway. Usually I could feel him coming, but I’d been too preoccupied for that.
I shuffled the papers in front of me with practiced nonchalance. But there was just the one sheet, and I found myself squishing it between two nervous hands. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t believe me. Standing in the office door, wringing his hands like a fidgety old woman, he reminded me of his mother. Mostly he was worried, though I also felt he was embarrassed and nervous for his concern.
“What is it?”
Closing the door behind him, he walked slowly toward the counter. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you... it’s just, I’m somewhat wo—”
“Worried,” I interrupted impatiently, “yes I know. Worried about what?”
“I don’t think you should see Reed Wallace,” Stephen blurted, not making eye contact. “I don’t think he’s good for you.”
“You seemed to think well of him not long ago.”
Stephen’s spotty cheeks turned red, his glasses sliding down as he looked toward his toes. “He’s...”
“Charming,” I supplied.
“Yes,” Stephen agreed, still not looking at me. “He sort of... pulls you in. I guess that’s why I’m worried.”
“You think I’ve been seduced by his charm?” I was unable to suppress my smile. I was perhaps the only person who was not. Surely, that was irony.
Stephen shook his head. “Do you remember those guys from my grade you asked about? Tony, Ted, and Greg. Well they’ve been spreading stories around school. They’re swearing they saw the girl who held them at gunpoint just a few days later in an alley. Apparently a big guy covered in blood had a knife to her neck. Now, usually I wouldn’t believe the rumors,” his eyes lowered to my throat, “but the next day you wore a turtleneck to work.”
My hair was loose and lucky for me, hanging forward to cover the faint scratch marks that remained. “And what do these stories have to do with Reed?” I asked, uneasy because I knew from experience how observant he could be.
“It’s just that none of this stuff started happening until you met him. And now you’re working for him even though you don’t want to.” He studied me with a fixed gaze. “You look tired... stressed, you never used to come to work like that. And you and Francesca never fought until—”
“If this is about Francesca...” I said with a warning in my voice.
“It’s not.”
He was telling the truth. His worry was for me and not his chances with Francesca. I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “Stephen, your concern, it’s unnecessary. I’m an adult, capable of making my own decisions.”
After snatching up the clipboard, I slid it across the counter, a gesture that meant he ought to get cleaning. And he did, walking out of the office without another word. I knew what he was thinking though, I could feel it, and it felt like crap. I felt like crap.
Chapter 40
The moment Stephen had departed a sharp pinch was delivered to the delicate skin on my inner wrist. I yelped, simultaneously trying to slap the air around me and rub my sore forearm.
Smith’s feelings were as intangible as his being had become, but like him they weren’t completely gone. Broken wisps of disapproval radiated from all around.
So Smith deplored the way I’d handled Stephen. Well I didn’t much like it either. At this rate I would soon be out of friends. But it was not as if I could explain the situation to anyone.
Trying to forget my troubles, I focused on work, but Smith’s presence was stamped in my mind. “Go away,” I hissed into the seemingly empty room. But he didn’t go, in fact he settled in like a tick. I could feel his eyes on me, watching, though I couldn’t say from where.
This was about the time I started to worry. What would I do if the ring wasn’t charmed to bring itself back? I’d wondered before if it was a compulsion that made me put it on, not magic. Perhaps even now Raina was wondering why she couldn’t keep the damned thing off her finger. Thinking of it made me mad. I found myself feeling oddly possessive of something I hadn’t even wanted or asked for.
Things didn’t get any better. Stephen avoided me until his shift was over. Unfortunately Smith kept me company. He was like a fly buzzing in my ear. And when Missy finally arrived, I ran for my car, unable to get away fast enough.
I was so absorbed with my own thoughts I’m surprised I noticed him at all, but I did.
As I pulled my slightly resisting Chevy onto the road I saw a man whose orange baseball cap caught the streetlamp’s glow as he passed beneath. Hunched with his neck tucked between his shoulders, he turned down a side street. After checking to make sure there was no oncoming traffic, I let my car drift to a stop while watching him in my rearview mirror.
Lars had sent someone to sense the book, and shortly after Reed’s warning I found myself being followed. Obviously I’d put two and two together... but I hadn’t come up with four. Raina Thompson was the aura reader, so who was this guy? To be honest, I’d forgotten all about him. Being stalked was definitely something to remember, but he just didn’t frighten me the way Lars’ people did. That being said, I found it easy to flick of
f my headlights and put the car in reverse. I was somewhat familiar with the side street he’d taken. Ben walked it each day. There was no outlet, but you could cut through the cemetery on foot to reach the next road over. And that was what he must have done, because I saw no sign of him as I drove.
It was full dark by then, as it always was by the time my shift was done. But the streetlamps cast a soft blanket of yellow which receded slowly as I coasted near the cemetery. Most of the houses I passed were dark and unoccupied, their owners remaining at a primary residence off the island. And just ahead was Goodfellows Cemetery.
It sat higher than everything else, an inky smudge against the starlit sky. A wrought iron fence circled the property, the pointed arch gateway always open. The name Goodfellows was scrolled across the top in twisted black metal.
I parked just in front, filling one of the few crooked spaces available. Sharp blades of tough grass had taken over much of the cul-de-sac, growing through the crumbling bits of asphalt. I cut the engine but made no move to get out.
The shifty stalker didn’t scare me, but I found the cemetery imposing and just a touch creepy, especially after dark. None of the town’s ambient light reached the hill’s top, where cracked and split headstones disappeared into darkness. And with a straining eye I could just make out the silhouette of oaks, their gnarled trunks and branches standing like skeletons against the night sky. Their leaves rustled in intermittent waves, the only sound I could hear from inside my car was their papery tinkling.
No, I thought, I won’t get out. But then I caught sight of his bent figure vanishing up the incline. Probably parked across the hillock on the road that ran parallel with Sterling’s, a nice discreet distance for stalking. Logically I knew that there was no point in following him. This wasn’t a movie where all it took was a license plate number to solve the mystery. What the hell would I do with his plate number? But I wanted to go charging after him the moment he stepped out of sight. To hell with logic, I was becoming sleuthy and it rankled to do nothing.
I couldn’t say it was my instincts I obeyed, impulse more like. I got out of the car quietly, slinking up the hill at a steady pace. It was thrilling, truly, and I reveled in the hunter’s high. I was destined to be sneaky; perhaps I’d been a pickpocket in another life. Of course a moment later I tripped, and things went south from there. I never caught up to my enigmatic follower, too busy trying not to break my head open as I crashed to the ground.
I was suddenly aware of the spooky cemetery, shrouded in darkness, which surrounded me. I had seen Goodfellows during daylight and could attest to its age. I didn’t mean that most of the grave markers had collapsed (though they had) or that the shrubbery was neglected (though it was). I mean that its inhabitants were of an age past, long since gone, and no mourners came, no one to leave flowers. There was no sign, no reminder of the current time within these iron bars, nor even a splash of color. Having seen it all in daylight it was easy to picture. But it seemed especially spooky from the prone position in which I had landed on the damp crabgrass.
My shin was still smarting from the chipped, flaking tombstone that had tripped me. I felt for it as I scrambled on my hands and knees, finding the top’s bladelike edge that I had been lucky enough to avoid throughout the fall. Gripping the sides, I pulled myself upright, attempting to stand. The bulky Tibetan ring clinked against the old stone. And suddenly I became aware of my hand, my fingers, and the rings, more than one ring in particular.
Stumbling back down the hill I hurried for the thread of light, feeling along my knuckles in disbelief. I was rushing through the gate when a clinging thorn bush snagged me back. I halted, hardly noticing. My whole attention was riveted on the ring, Percy’s ring. My ring. It was back.
The relief I felt was so intense I was actually surprised by it. I even slumped forward a bit, as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Yes, I’d been worried. But apparently I’d been more worried than I let on, even to myself.
With a small smile I touched the milky bead. Baseball cap was long gone by now, but I didn’t really care. One mystery was solved. The ring brought itself back. It must be... magic. I stood there for a while thinking through the implications, wondering if maybe witches and wizards existed. I always knew J.K. Rowling was really onto something... but even I had a hard time believing that far. All the gifts I knew of were improvable—aura readers, card readers, etc.
I wrinkled my nose, thoughts interrupted by something that smelled ghastly. The faint whiff was steadily growing stronger. I turned, squinting into the cemetery behind me and then through the gate toward my car. I took a step for it, prepared to leave, but the thorns dug into my T-shirt and hair. Impatiently I plucked at them, but was so overcome by the smell that I had to stop and cover my nose.
I heard it then, not a noise from inside the cemetery, but outside, between me and my car. A lumbering figure had come close, skirting along the fence, hidden by the overgrowth. It moved directly into my path and I jerked back, uncaring that the thorns dug deep before releasing me.
From the sharp-edged shoulders and overall shape I could tell he was wearing a suit, even in the dim light where most details were lost. His smell was indescribable, but it put me in mind of rotting meat.
With both hands pressed over my mouth and nose, I stared in fear, my eyes continuing to travel over his figure. They came to rest on his feet, though they were hardly that anymore. My heart beat faster and my breathing quickened at the sight, signs of an oncoming panic attack. This time it would not result from the overwhelming emotions of others or even my own terror, though I was afraid. The anxiety came from the sheer wrongness of it all.
He wore no shoes, his feet, what was left of them, were bare. Toes and sole were gone, indiscernible from the meaty tatters of flesh that remained. There was no blood, not much, but the frayed muscle and splintered bone were clearly visible.
I wanted to run away, to scream, to do something, but the panic attack was going full force. It left me a trembling wreck, certain of my own doom. I could do nothing but shake as the thing shuffled near, drawing in one endless breath, the sound a wheezing dry rattle.
“Booook,” he moaned, expelling air to form one rasping word.
He’d turned slightly, the angle allowing a bit of light to ring the rim of his face. It was a horrendous sight, a thing of nightmares. His hair had no luster, it was dull and thinning. Clumps had come loose, the scalp shining through in patches. Unnatural and sallow skin, both bloated and sagging, covered his face, looking puffy around the eyes. Red flesh from inside the socket hung loose, no longer cupping the eyeball which was dark and sunken.
It was a face void of all expression, a man with no emotion. A lifeless, dead thing.
“Booooooook,” it repeated more forcefully, taking my shoulders with two clumsy hands.
I whimpered, or maybe gagged, recoiling, my head bent back from its rancid odor.
It shook me like a ragdoll with strength I couldn’t comprehend, uttering the same garbled word.
My head snapped back and forth as he jerked me around, steely fingers biting into my skin. I screamed.
I wasn’t sure how long it took for Smith to respond, but he came, a blur streaking from the street. He tried to pull me from the thing’s grip, but even he could not wrest me away.
Not giving up, Smith ducked between, wedging himself to separate us. He braced his arm across my chest while jamming an elbow into the monster’s gut. I gasped as the thing only gripped tighter, refusing to let go. Smith’s hand flattened more firmly over my collar bone, a comforting gesture, though it seemed to sap me of my strength, leaving me weak and tired. He then reached for the thing’s wrist, wrenching it back at a sharp angle. I heard it snap, a loud popping noise.
Released, I fell to the ground, so tired I could barely move out of the way. Around me they fought, two grappling figures in the dark. Smith made no noise as he pitte
d himself against it, the only sound their scuffling. I heard something else break, a deep cracking noise this time. I was terrified Smith was hurt, even as I wondered if ghosts had bones to break. But it wasn’t him. He was standing over the thing, movements much more animated and easy to recognize.
My only thought was to get away. I struggled to stand, failing completely. Smith hauled me upright by my armpits, making me feel small next to his tall, skinny frame. Together we made it to my car. Smith sifted into the backseat without bothering to open a door, though he’d been solid throughout the entire episode. I guess he was tired too.
I could barely get the key into the ignition my fingers shook so bad. My body always felt wrecked after a panic attack, but this level of fatigue and exhaustion was irregular. I wanted to go home and sleep for an eternity, but I couldn’t. I’d just encountered a... I didn’t want to think of that now. But whatever it was, it had asked for the book.
It was always about that damned diary.
I couldn’t handle that thing on my own. Reed would have to be informed, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to wait to use the telephone.
Chapter 41
It took me less than twenty minutes to reach Raindrop Road, but then it took another twenty just to get through Reed’s security. I pulled up to the gatehouse, recognizing the prick who’d hassled me last time. He recognized me too, I could feel the moment recollection sparked, it was followed by a twinge of annoyance. I guess he didn’t like me either.
The ensuing experience was not pleasant. Obviously I lost it when he asked for my driver’s license again. I mean, I knew he knew me. And when I was done muttering, the dirtbag informed me I wouldn’t be admitted inside. Mr. Wallace only met with invited visitors. I might return when I had an appointment. His words, not mine.
Well I didn’t leave.
And though I would have liked to, I never yelled. Instead I articulately enunciated each word, speaking slowly as if to a very dim child. I lied about being Reed’s girlfriend again too. Tired and cranky, I would have said anything. The guard, disliking my treatment, chose not to believe me. But he called someone anyway, and told me to wait.