Black Creek Crossing (26 page)

A scream burst out of the night, so loud it stopped Angel in her tracks, but it died abruptly, cut off at almost the instant it began. Now she stood trembling in the darkness. All around her the night had fallen eerily silent after the scream, the silence almost as terrifying as the scream had been.

If it had really been a scream.

It was the owl,
Angel told herself.
It was a screech owl.

Yet even as she reassured herself and headed toward home again, the sounds returned.

Leaves rustling.

Twigs cracking.

She heard a low whistle off to one side, and crossed the road once more, but a moment later there was a moan from the forest—as if someone were in pain. Her heart raced as tendrils of panic slithered out of the darkness, creeping toward her. Then she heard a whimpering sound, and a moment later realized it had come from her own lips.

Another moan, this time from somewhere behind her, and she whirled once more, only to see another shadow vanish into the black depths of the forest.

She turned again, and caught a glimpse of motion out of the corner of her eye. Her breath catching in her throat, she felt the tendrils of panic tightening around her, and now she tried to look in every direction at once, frantically searching for the shapes whose shadows seemed always on the periphery of her vision.

There was nothing but darkness. The lights of the village had disappeared behind her, and the lights of the house at the Crossing weren’t yet visible. She looked up into the sky, but it too was darkening as the layer of cloud over the moon grew denser.

Home,
Angel thought.
I’ve got to get home before I can’t see anything at all.

She started running, but the toe of her left foot caught on something and she plunged forward. She threw out her hands to protect her face, and a moment later felt a terrible stinging as the asphalt of the road tore the skin from her palms.

This time there was no mistaking the cry of pain as coming from anywhere but her own throat, but she managed to choke it into silence almost as quickly as the scream she’d heard moments before had died. She scrambled back to her feet, brushing the dirt from her jacket and jeans. Her eyes blurring with tears, she stumbled on through the darkness. Now there were sounds all around her—leaves rustling and twigs breaking as if some beast hidden in the darkness and the trees were keeping pace with her, preparing to launch itself at her. She veered across the road still another time, but there was no longer any escaping the terrifying cacophony.

Running again, her heart pounding, her lungs heaving, she tried to escape the terrors that surrounded her in the darkness. Now the night took on the quality of a nightmare. Her feet felt sluggish, as if bogged down in thick mud, and the road itself threatened to mire her. A moan escaped her lips, nearly echoing the moans that had come from the forest earlier.

Then, as she came to the bend in the road, she saw it.

The house at the Crossing, light pouring from its windows, washing away the darkness. Angel hurled herself toward the light, veering across the road and onto the small expanse of lawn that wrapped around the house.

The sounds began to die away.

And then, once more, silence.

A silence that was suddenly broken by laughter.

Loud, raucous laughter, rolling out of the forest and across the road and the lawn. Angel felt it crashing against her as she stood on the front porch.

Zack. Now she understood what had happened. Heather and her friend must have told Zack what had happened. Now he was laughing.

Laughing exactly as they had laughed earlier.

Struggling against the tears that now threatened to overwhelm her, she turned her back on the mocking laughter, slipped through the front door, and headed for the stairs, wanting nothing more than the refuge of her room, where she might blot out the laughter still ringing in her ears.

But as she passed the living room, her mother said, “Angel? Are you all right?”

She hesitated, wanting to tell her mother what had happened, what Zack Fletcher had done. But remembering what had happened when she’d told her mother about her father coming into her room that night, she changed her mind. Besides, if her mother believed her, she would tell her aunt Joni, and her aunt would talk to Zack, and . . .

And everything would be even worse than it was right now.

“I’m okay,” she said. “I’m just going upstairs to finish my homework.”

“All right,” her mother said. “I’ll come in and say good night in a little while.”

Upstairs, Angel washed the blood and grime off her scraped palms, winced as she dabbed the cuts with iodine, then went to her room. Instead of turning on the light, however, she went to the window and peered out into the darkness. The moon was obliterated now, and it was like looking into the blackness of eternity itself. For a moment she wondered what it would be like to simply disappear into that blackness, to float forever in silence and nothingness.

At last she drew the curtains and turned away from the window, but still didn’t turn on the light. Instead she took off her clothes in darkness, and in darkness she slipped into her bed.

When her mother came in to kiss her good-night an hour later, Angel pretended to be asleep, and carefully kept her injuries hidden beneath her blankets.

Zack Fletcher was still two blocks from home when he heard a faint rustling sound, just like the sound he himself had made half an hour ago when he, Chad, and Jared caught up with Angel Sullivan as she walked home, making noises in the woods and scaring her so badly she’d started running. So he ignored it as he continued to walk along Haverford Street.

The sounds continued, a distinct rustling in the leaves off to the left, and finally, when he’d passed two more houses, Zack stopped.

So did the sound of rustling leaves.

He resumed walking again.

The sounds began again too.

Zack stopped again. “Okay, Chad!” he called out. “You can come out now—I know it’s you.”

Nothing.

He began walking again, and the sounds started up again, keeping pace with him.

“Come on, Chad!” he shouted. “You’re not scaring me!” But even as he spoke the words, his voice betrayed the lie.

He walked faster, and heard the sound again.

Something, or someone, was moving along next to him, keeping pace with him.

But why couldn’t he see them? There were lights on in the houses along Haverford Street, and porch lights were on, and streetlights. Yet he couldn’t make out whoever was following him.

Then, as he crossed Prospect Street, he caught a flash of movement.

A cat! Nothing but a stupid cat, like the one that was always hanging around with Angel. His fright vanishing, Zack stepped up onto the curb and started down the last block.

Now the cat was moving alongside him, making no effort at all to stay out of sight.

But strangely, though he could see the cat clearly, moving over the leaves that had fallen from the huge canopy of branches that spread over the lawns along Haverford Street, it was no longer making any sound at all.

The rustling had stopped.

It was as if the cat were somehow floating over the leaves, not even disturbing them.

He stopped.

So did the cat, turning to face him.

Zack took a step toward it. “Shoo!”

The cat only crouched, its tail twitching.

“Stupid cat,” Zack said. “Get out of here!” He charged toward it, raising his arms and waving them.

But instead of springing off into the darkness, the cat launched itself straight at him, and a second later Zack screamed as he felt the claws sink deep into the flesh of his face. As his howl of agony rose, the cat dropped away, and as Zack clutched at his face, it darted off, to disappear silently into the shadows.

His face burning with pain and his eyes stinging with tears, Zack ran the rest of the way home, charging up onto the front porch of his house. Opening the door, he lurched inside, then slammed it shut behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he caught his breath.

“Zack?” he heard his mother say from the living room. “Honey, everything OK?”

Feeling tears streaming down his cheeks, Zack moved toward the living room. “It was a cat,” he said, his voice quavering. “Angel’s cat! It tried to kill me!”

Joni Fletcher gazed at her son, whose face was twisted into a mask of fear and pain. “What?” she asked, rising to her feet. “What cat? What do mean, it attacked you?”

“My face,” Zack wailed. “It practically ripped my cheeks off!”

His mother was looking at him with bewilderment. “Honey, what are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with your face.”

Zack put his hand to his cheek.

The stinging was gone.

He looked at his fingers.

No blood.

Turning, he looked in the mirror that hung on the wall over the table by the front door.

His face looked perfectly normal—not even a scratch, let alone the deep slashes that should have been there, given how agonizing the pain had been when the animal’s claws had sunk into his skin.

He gently touched his cheek with his forefinger.

Nothing—no pain at all.

But a few minutes ago—

He turned back to the living room, where his father had joined his mother, both of them on their feet, looking at him uncertainly. “I’m not lying,” Zack said, his voice uneven. “It happened right down at the end of the block.”

“What happened?” Ed Fletcher asked.

As best he could, Zack recounted everything from the moment he’d first heard the sound of rustling leaves as he was walking home to when the cat launched itself at his face.

“You’re sure it actually attacked you?” Ed Fletcher asked when his son was finished.

“I’m telling you, Dad!” Zack exclaimed, his voice rising in response to the doubt in his father’s voice. “It tried to kill me!”

“Well, it certainly didn’t succeed, did it? Seems like it did a better job of scaring you than it did of hurting you.”

Zack’s eyes narrowed and he turned truculent. “You don’t believe me.”

Ed Fletcher spread his hands as if to ward off his son’s angry words. “I’m not saying nothing happened—I’m just saying it doesn’t seem to be as bad as you think it was.”

“And even if a cat did attack you, why would you think it was Angel’s?” his mother asked. “They don’t even have a cat. Marty’s allergic.”

“As allergic as he is to work?” Ed Fletcher interjected, engendering a dark look from his wife.

“It’s Angel’s,” Zack said. “It follows her everywhere. It’s all black and—”

“You’re claiming you recognized a black cat at night?” Ed Fletcher broke in.

“I did!” Zack was nearly shouting now.

“All right, all right!” Ed said, once more raising his hands as if to fend off his son’s anger. “I’m just not sure I would have even seen it, that’s all.”

“You’d have seen this one,” Zack said. “It’s huge, and its eyes were glowing, and—”

“All right, that’s enough,” Ed Fletcher said, his tone imparting his doubt as much as his words. “Even if we agree that this cat attacked you—which, frankly, I doubt—I don’t see why you think it belongs to Angel. They don’t even live around here, and—”

“It followed me!” Zack blurted, before considering the implication of his words. But it was too late.

“Followed you from where?” Ed Fletcher asked. “Is there something you’re not telling us, Zack?”

“No, I—” Zack began, but his father didn’t let him finish.

“Why don’t you tell us exactly where you were tonight, and what you were doing?”

“I was just hangin’ out with Chad and Jared and Heather! And Angel was there, and her stupid cat, and—”

“Why do you keep saying it was Angel’s cat?” Joni broke in.

“Because it’s always with her! I’m tellin’ you—”

“I’m going to call Myra,” Joni said.

She picked up the phone, dialed, and when she hung up a few minutes later, her eyes had taken on the same look as her husband’s.

“Zack, the Sullivans don’t have a cat,” she said to her son. “So whatever happened tonight had nothing to do with your cousin. Now, what really happened?”

Seething, but knowing there was no use arguing with both his parents, Zack turned away. “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing happened, all right?”

He headed up the stairs, and when his mother called after him, he didn’t answer. A moment later he was in his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

As he got ready to go to bed, Chad Jackson was still laughing about the sight of Angel Sullivan running terrified through the night. For him, the best part was when she’d tripped and fallen on her face. He could still remember how much it had hurt two years ago when his bike skidded out of control, across the asphalt in the street right outside. He’d had scabs for weeks, and when his mother insisted on putting iodine on the scrapes—

He winced even now, just thinking about it.

Leaving his clothes piled in a heap on the floor, he climbed into bed and was just reaching for the light switch when his eyes fell on his backpack, full of textbooks, and he remembered the math homework he hadn’t done.

Well, no point in doing it now—he’d either do it in the morning or make Seth Baker let him copy his. Too bad Seth hadn’t been with Angel when they followed her, moving through the woods, where she couldn’t see them, making noises. The only thing that would have been better was if Seth had been there too, getting so scared he’d wet his pants.

That would have made it perfect—if they’d been able to figure out a way to give Seth as good a scare as they’d given Angel.

Angel—
what a stupid name.

A stupid name for a fat, ugly, stupid girl.

So stupid she even liked Seth Baker!

And stupid enough to fall for the sounds they’d been making too.

Grinning, Chad softly repeated the hooting sound he’d made in the woods that night. It didn’t actually sound like an owl—at least not any he’d ever heard—but it had been good enough to send Angel running for home. He was about to repeat it, and improve on it, when he heard something.

Something from outside the room.