Our spirit was a middle-aged man. Not bad-looking, but far too crazy-eyed to be really handsome—kind of like Bruce Campbell in some of the scenes in Army of Darkness. He had dark hair and dark eyes and was dressed in old-fashioned clothes. He wasn’t my first apparition, so I was able to study him without the same shock and fear as the others. I filed every little detail about him away in my memory.
He had bloody hands, and there was arterial spray across the front of his blue shirt.
“Look at you all,” he said, smiling as his dark gaze swept around the table. “Little lambs.” He leaned his head close to Sarah. “Hello, my dear.”
Her eyes widened, but she was too terrified to even make a sound.
Lambs? Farmer, maybe? Or a preacher. “Tell us your name,” I commanded, pulling his attention away from Sarah.
The ghost shot me a glare. “Bossy little bitch, aren’t you? No, I have no intention of telling you my name.” Then he turned his head and smiled. “You must be Lark—prickly little scar-girl. And you—” he turned to Wren “—you’re the Dead Born. Oh, I’ve heard so much about the two of you.”
“From who?” I demanded.
But it was Wren who had his attention. He drifted closer to her. My sister held her ground, even though I wished she’d come closer to me.
“Look at you,” the ghost murmured as he approached. “You pulse with life even though you’re so thoroughly dead. Not like you’re other half—the walking dead.”
Okay, so that stung. It also made a lot of sense. Wren watched him like a gazelle watching a lion.
“So powerful,” the ghost went on. “You don’t even know how much. It’s almost charming.” He stared at my sister as though she was an angel—or a demon.
“Hey!” I snapped. This was my show, not his. “Old MacDonald—you need to step off.”
The apparition turned its head. “I beg your pardon?”
“Not mine you need to ask for,” I told him. I gestured to those around the table. “You need to let them go.”
He seemed to find this amusing. “Or what?”
“Or I’ll salt your bones and turn them to ash.”
He smiled. “Such bravado. How will you find my remains when you don’t even know my name, little girl?”
“Josiah Bent,” Kevin said, and I knew from the ghost’s expression that he was right. Wren put herself between the two of them.
I smiled. “So, I guess I’ll be finding your remains now, asshole.”
Bent reared back, his face contorted into a monstrous, ugly mask. Somehow he conjured a straight razor—a long one that gleamed under the light. He whirled around, slashing the blade toward Roxi. She cried out and ducked. Gage thrust his arm—the one not protected by iron—in front of her.
“No!” I shouted, but it was too late. If Gage hadn’t moved he would have stayed within the salt circle and Bent wouldn’t have gotten him, but all I could do was watch as that razor sliced across Gage’s arm.
Gage screamed.
I jumped out of my chair, pushing it back so the legs ripped through the salt, destroying my protective barrier.
“Hey, dickwad!” I shouted.
Time slowed as Bent turned toward me.
“Lark,” Wren said softly—a warning. “What are you doing?”
I smiled at Bent. “You don’t scare me.”
He lunged then, coming at me with the wrath of a tornado. I drew back my right fist, and smashed the iron ring on it right into the middle of his face.
See, I can make contact with any ghost, not just my sister. I had managed to keep that pretty much to myself until now.
Bent scattered—exploded into a thousand jagged wisps, and was gone.
Silence filled the room. Everyone looked at each other, then to me. I was looking at Wren, who was still and quiet.
“Is he gone?” Sarah asked.
“He should be,” I said.
But Kevin shook his head. “No. I still feel him. He’s—”
Suddenly Bent took form again—this time right behind Wren. He grinned at me as he wrapped his arms around her.
“No!” I screamed.
But it was too late. Bent was gone.
And the asshole had taken my sister.
LARK
“Where are you going?” Ben asked when I jumped up from the table. Everyone else was still trying to figure out what had just happened.
“Haven Crest,” I replied. “He took Wren.”
The room fell silent at that pronouncement. Kevin looked as though I’d just punched him in the face. “What?”
I barely glanced at him. I was too busy shoving cans of salt-mix into my bag. “Bent took Wren. I’m going after her.”
“I’m going with you,” Ben said.
Kevin’s jaw tightened. “So am I.”
“We all are,” Roxi joined in. “Right?”
“I don’t care who comes with me,” I told them. “But I’m going. Now.”
They followed me out of the house—Ben was right behind me. “I’ll drive,” he said. I didn’t respond. Of course he was driving. I’d left Nan’s car at home.
I went straight for his MINI Cooper and tossed my bag on the floor on the passenger side. Roxi and Gage jumped in the back as Ben slid behind the wheel. Sarah and Mace would have to go with Kevin.
“Uh, hey,” Ben told me as he slipped the key into the ignition. “I got you something.”
I frowned. “Okay.” Couldn’t it wait? My sister was in danger.
He reached behind his seat and pulled something out.
“A stick?”
He held it lengthwise. Then I saw the twists in the metal. “Wrought iron,” he said. “The paper wrapped around it is a pujok my grandmother made for you.”
I grinned. “A ghost-beating stick!” Oh, I hoped Bent gave me a chance to use it on him.
He laughed. “I guess. My mom’s an artist. She works with metal. I brought a couple extra, but you can keep this one.”
“Thanks.” It was actually one of the most thoughtful gifts anyone had ever given me—given the circumstances. “And thank your nan for me.”
Ben smiled, and my heart did this funny little dance.
Roxi and Gage sat in the backseat and made out most of the way to the graveyard. I couldn’t believe it. Ben turned on the radio to cover the face-sucking sounds behind us. Really? In the movies danger always makes people sexy, but this just made me want to smack them. I knew that Wren was more important to me than them, and that to them she was a ghost and should be able to protect herself, but they didn’t know about Bell Hill and how I’d almost lost her.
“Are they always like this?” I asked.
Ben glanced in the rearview mirror and grimaced. “This just started earlier today, I think.”
I turned my head to look at him. He was smiling. “Really?”
He nodded, smile growing.
I laughed. Couldn’t help it. “That’s messed up.”
It was a short ride to the graveyard. Kevin pulled his car into a spot right beside Ben’s. It was a busy night—lots of cars with lots of steamed-up windows.
Everyone had their rings on, and those who hadn’t brought something made of iron took one of Ben’s sticks. I handed out the cans of the salt-iron cocktail. “Don’t use it unless you have to,” I said. “We don’t want to waste it—no telling how many we’ll be up against. If you’re attacked or feel threatened, let some fly.” This whole thing could be a trap, and I knew that. I also didn’t say it aloud. Wren had been taken because of the people with me, and I’d trade them for her in a heartbeat.
I put my salt into the messenger bag slung across my body, along with the iron rod. Once we were all set, we made for the tree and crossed over onto Haven Crest land.
“Y
ou okay?” Ben asked me.
I nodded, but it was a lie. As soon as my feet hit hospital property I felt them—the teeming, impatient souls that tormented this place—or were tormented by it.
“We’re not at the main buildings yet,” Mace pointed out.
I looked at him. “I know.” Didn’t he get it? This place was bad news.
We only made it halfway across the field before I felt something coming for us. It wasn’t the same thing that had come the other night—this was just a scout. These ghosts weren’t the chaotic entities that I’d dealt with at Bell Hill. These ghosts knew what they were doing. They were organized. This thing coming at us had been sent.
They knew we were coming. They’d been expecting us. It was a trap.
And I was going to walk right into it. But I knew what I was getting into.
I stopped, watching the scout as it took form in front of me. It was a young boy—not much younger than me. He was dressed in old-fashioned clothing and the dark sockets of his eyes blazed with mockery. Jerk.
I drew back my arm and punched him in the face as hard as I could. The jolt—like punching a wall—drove up my arm like my bones were being shoved into my shoulder.
“Was that a ghost?” Gage asked.
I shot him a scowl. “No, I just thought now would be a good time to practice my kickboxing. Yeah, it was a ghost.”
His dark eyes widened. “Wow. You are such a bitch when you’re scared.”
“That, too,” I agreed, my shoulders sagging. How long would it take the scout to reappear at the hospital? To pull itself back together on this plane and report to Bent?
How long before a larger welcoming party was sent out?
“Listen,” I said. They all turned to me. “This is a trap. Bent wanted us to come here, to his territory. I don’t know if he’s hoping to barter with Wren, or use her against us, but he’s going to want me to back off so he can nibble on you. My sister is the most important thing in the world to me.”
Mace nodded. “So, what you’re saying is that you’d give us over for her?”
I met his gaze. “If I had to? In a second. I don’t want to, but if it comes down to it, yeah. I just want to be up front about it.”
I didn’t understand his expression, and I didn’t need to. Ben, on the other hand, was as open as a book. “It’s okay, Lark. We all want to help you get Wren back, but more important, I want to save my own ass. We all do.”
The others nodded—hesitantly. I felt a little better about leading them into what might be their deaths—if it was possible to feel better about it. I knew why I had to do this. I knew why they had to do it. Out of all of them, though, Kevin’s motivation was the most like mine. Wren.
I glanced at him. He was looking toward the buildings of the Haven Crest campus with a grim expression. He was thinking about her, I knew it.
“Positive energy,” I reminded everyone. My sister was waiting. “Let’s pick up the pace a bit.”
We jogged toward the shadowy buildings not far away. Most were in total darkness—those still in ruins. Others were in the midst of being fixed up by the town. They were being reclaimed as some sort of community campus. I hoped they had a good exorcist or ten lined up.
“Where should we go?” Gage asked.
I pointed ahead and slightly to the right at one of the largest buildings on the site. “Patient residence.” Might as well jump right in. “It’s the epicenter.”
“How can you tell?” Sarah asked. For someone who didn’t like me, she talked to me a lot.
How could I tell? Right. Sometimes I forgot that norms didn’t see things the way I did. “It’s the brightest,” I replied. That was the easiest way to put it. “I see spirit energy as a glow.” More important, I knew that was where Wren was. I could feel her warning me away.
So, I was going to run right to her.
We kept low as we hurried toward the building. In addition to trying to avoid ghosts—and I was surprised we hadn’t been jumped yet—we had to avoid security. There was only one car patrolling the area, and probably two guards in it. There might be more on foot, but I doubted it. There were signs all over the place to warn against trespassing, and locks and chains to keep people out, but there were too many broken windows, and anyone could get a pair of bolt cutters. When a place like Haven Crest stood empty too long and built up a reputation for being haunted, there was no keeping out the people who really wanted in.
Thank God ghosts didn’t normally wander from where they were tethered; otherwise this town would have a real problem. I couldn’t see them—they weren’t gathered like a congregation, but I could feel them like a humming in my veins.
We were lucky—most of the lights were centered on the renovated buildings and main quad. This part of the property was pretty dim, a decrepit maze of overgrown shrubs and thick ivy growing up the sides of old brick buildings with broken panes and peeling paint. Tattered curtains fluttered in a window— No, that was a woman in a gown, watching us. She dipped her head to me and turned away. The ghosts didn’t have to come to us—they were watching us come to them. I glanced around and saw she wasn’t the only one. Pale, drawn faces with dark, glinting eyes watched from vantage points all around us—beyond what I could see in the dark.
The lack of lighting made it hard to see, but harder to be seen. We waited for a moment, hidden behind some bushes as the security car drove by. Then I led the way around the redbrick building to a set of steps at the side. They were almost completely grown over with vines and weeds and would have been far too easy to miss if not for the sign that read Visitors with an arrow pointing down.
“I am not going down there,” Sarah announced.
I ignored her. She was coming along. There was no turning back now. I pushed through the overgrowth and picked my way down the crumbling stone steps to the door. Its once white paint was grayish and peeling, revealing the aged wood beneath. One of the panes in the glass was broken, but not enough to slip my hand through. It was locked up tight.
“Now what?” Roxi asked.
I made eye contact with her, then the others. “Now’s going to be one of those times I ask you guys not to freak out,” I said. Then I raised my hand and knocked on the door.
“So what?” Gage asked. “Is someone just supposed to come along and—”
The locks clicked and the door creaked open.
“Fuhhhh,”Gage began.
“Uuuccck,” finished Roxi.
“Yeah,” I said, crossing the threshold. I couldn’t remember how old I’d been when I realized that ghosts would let me in if I just asked. Wren asked because it was just polite; most ghosts didn’t trespass on each other’s turf. I didn’t know why it worked for me, but it did, and that was really all that mattered.
Once we were inside, the door slammed shut. Everyone jumped. Gage swore. I hadn’t done either, but my heart thumped so hard against my ribs I thought something was going to break.
I heard locks clack back into place.
“Now they’re just showing off,” I said as I fished a small flashlight out of my bag. I switched it on, keeping it pointed down so it didn’t flash in the windows. Behind me, two more clicked on, as well.
The inside of Haven Crest was exactly what I expected—chessboard floor, garbage strewn around. Old furniture, peeling paint. What I hadn’t expected was the smell. It was a smell that struck something deep inside me and awakened a terror I thought I’d buried deep enough to never haunt me again. It wasn’t the smell of insanity, or even death. It was the smell of hopelessness.
I’d smelled that same smell at Bell Hill, breathed it in until it coated my lungs like cigarette tar, compressing my chest like phantom tumors. It had held me tight until it had completely taken over. Only Wren had been able to pull me free.
“Oh, shit,” I whispered. My hear
t was in full-on panic mode now. What had I been thinking? How could I have ever thought I could walk through that door and be okay? This place was never going to let me leave. Never going to let me go. The scars on my wrists began to itch, and the cuts on my hands—which had already healed—began to sting. The ghost that had inflicted them was nearby.
My gaze darted around the darkness, made all the more bleak by the flashlight beams. The floor beneath my feet hummed with barely restrained malevolence. Screams echoed down long-forgotten corridors. The sobs were worse.
God, this place was alive. No, it was undead.
Blood ran down the walls. Hands thrust from the shadows, black and strong, fingers clutching, longing to grab me and pull me in. One brushed my leg.
Someone grabbed my hand. I almost screamed.
It was Ben.
My first instinct was to pull away, shake it off and pretend to be a hard-ass. I wrapped my fingers tight around his. A crowbar couldn’t have gotten our hands apart.
There was no blood. There were no hands. Maybe there had been, or maybe they’d just been in my head. There was just that smell, seeped into every molecule of this place that looked like it had only ever been half-left, because no one who had ever been in a place like this, as an employee or patient, ever really got away. If it weren’t for the dust and decay, you might expect someone to walk behind that front desk and answer the ringing phone.
The phone was ringing.
Someone gasped. It sounded like Roxi. It might have been Gage. So they heard it, too. Okay, this one wasn’t just for me. I took a deep breath. This wasn’t in my head, this was ghosts. Ghosts I could handle. I walked over to the desk—Ben still attached. I handed him my flashlight and picked up the handset. It wasn’t even connected to the phone base. The phone wasn’t plugged into the wall...
“Yes?” I said, holding the receiver away from my ear.
The sound that came through was like the scream of ten thousand tortured souls wrapped in static and buried in a well. It wasn’t loud, but I knew every one of us felt it in our heads and in our bones.
“Who is this?” I asked.
“You’re mine,” growled a voice.