The Gateway Through Which They Came (24 page)

ather Martin requests that I take the book home again. Something about reading it where there will be no distractions. Somehow I think he forgot about my mother. After a day of floor scrubbing while wearing bright yellow gloves, which is a blow to any guy’s ego, I’m finally sent home.

The city streets are busy with people making their way home. Water dripping into an open drain clears the gutters of the last trace of rain. An annoying jingle from a creepy guy dressed as Santa Claus rings from the corner. A lame reminder that Christmas is upon us. It was a time I used to look forward to, but now, I only seem to dread each day more than the last.

Who wouldn’t after finding out they were the anomaly within an already unbelievable situation? I’m the ultimate black sheep.

I cross the street to my car, pulling the phone from my pocket. It’s been on silent all day and I keep hoping to hear from Trevor or Evan. In a way, I never expect to hear from Koren after the way she left. A grin manages to cross my face when I read a text from Trevor:
Dude, you owned Justin yesterday! Sorry I didn’t text sooner. I was a little shocked to find out my best friend’s the Hulk. Let me know when we can come over.

I laugh when I close out Trevor’s grammatically correct message and find one from Evan:
Best shit i’ve evr seen. Txt if u get this. We’ll brng the whisky.

The time stamps from both messages prove they talked it over first before hitting send.

Typical.

I get in the car and text them back. A hint of relief lifts the weight from my chest. With the keys in the ignition, the urge to look back at the church engulfs me. Somewhere I can sense eyes on me. Seems like it’s feeling I can never escape. I scan the perimeter of the church expecting to see something or someone. My guess is it’s the thing that inhabited the church last Saturday. The energy of it is similar from what I remember, and an itch in the back of my mind tells me that this thing doesn’t just haunt the church—it’s claiming the building as its own.

A bang against the passenger side window rocks me back in my seat.

“You really should have listened to me,” Koren says.

When my heart sinks back to my chest, I spit, “You really should find another way to get my attention. Christ.” I lean across the passenger seat and unlock the door.

A long drawn out squeak sounds from the hinge as she opens it and settles in.

“What’s that?” She points to the book. “It looks—”

“It’s nothing.” I snatch it up quickly and stuff the book under the backseat. Her eyes follow, reading the words on the cover.

When she says no more about the book, I say, “All right. What the hell is going on? You don’t want me at the church. I get that. At least tell me why.”

She picks at a hole on the knee of her jeans. Her clothes look more ragged than before and her peacoat has nearly lost its last button. Something dawns on me.

“Have you been wearing the same clothes?” I can’t remember another time that she wore anything besides this. Her brown boots are scuffed beyond repair, and the tangled strands of her hair fall over her face to cover the sunken half circles under her eyes. Have I really been so consumed by my own burdens that I haven’t stopped to consider hers?

She shrugs. “I haven’t gone home in a while.”

“Speaking of which, where are your parents? Did you guys move or something?”

“Sort of,” she says.

“Koren, where do you go every night?” I have to ask. This shit is getting too weird.

She peers at me from between dark strands of blonde, and says, “If you wanna know. I’ll show you.”

It’s all she says on the matter, but damn am I curious. As I turn the car around, I catch a glimpse of someone near the church steps in the side mirror. His sharp blue eyes narrow, watching Izzie put down the road. Why Vincent Chase is visiting the church at this hour is beyond me, but I gladly press harder on the gas, watching him fade into a speck in the mirror and disappear.

Before I know it, I’m on Taylors Ferry Road heading toward River View Cemetery. I have to say, this is the last place I thought I’d go on a late Tuesday afternoon. There were about a million daydreams I had about this day: Koren Banks. My oldest friend turned crush. In my car. On a date. But this isn’t a date. At least, not at all what I had in mind.

That all seems ridiculous now. Our friendship, or whatever this is, is a complete train wreck without all these extra emotions thrown into it. That doesn’t necessarily mean I would deny my feelings if it ever came up.

As we pull into the paved lane of the cemetery and pass through the gates, I finally break the silence. “Okay. I have to ask. Why are you dragging me to a cemetery?”

“You wanted to know where I’ve been staying. This is it.” The energy about her changes once we cross the threshold.

I stop along the side of the path. “Where?”

“There,” she says, pointing her finger in the direction of an ominous structure. A mausoleum.

“You have got to be shitting me.”

“Nope!” She’s cheerful as she jumps out of the car and begins walking toward the gray building, her attitude taking a complete one-eighty.

I didn’t come here for nothing, so I follow. Cemeteries and I don’t exactly mesh well, for obvious reasons. The occasional Bleeder sticks around after their body has been buried and it’s not always my favorite place to be. But seeing how they’ve doubled the past few days, I have a feeling this trip will turn ugly, quick.

We pass statues of bronze angels and memorials with dates way before my time. The grass is freshly groomed and vibrant colors peek from behind tombstones. Others are decorated with flowers that have browned with age. Seeing these things, knowing what lay beyond the ground in which I walk, doesn’t affect me as much as it should. When you’ve seen death as much as I have, you become immune to the idea. Which overall seems offensive. No one should be numb when it comes to the dead. No one.

“Here we are,” she says, opening a rickety gate to the dusty, decrepit mausoleum.

I peer inside, not exactly eager to rush into a tomb.

“It’s okay. I won’t lock you in or anything. This gate doesn’t even close all the way. No one’s bothered to check it.” Koren’s livelier now than I’ve ever seen her, as if being near her safe place makes everything better.

“Why are you staying here?”

“Why not?” Her eyes narrow in on me, offended.

I take in the dark, musky room. Spiderwebs sling along the walls. A grimy purple blanket and a backpack used as pillow rest on the floor next to the slab of stone. The stone coffin takes up most of the space, with engraved carvings of strange symbols lining each side.

I force myself inside the cold, stale room and turn back to her. “It’s not exactly where I picture a girl like you hanging out is all.”

“Well, maybe you don’t know me at all then.”

That last part stings a little.

Koren steps inside, running her fingers along the stone slab. An approving smile lifts at the corners of her mouth as she says, “I like it here.”

“Aren’t your parents looking for you?” To prevent collecting dust on my clothes, I cross my arms and stand in place.

Koren’s fingers stop at the tip of the coffin near the carved initials:
J.H.R.

“My parents aren’t exactly in a position to care.” A whisper of sadness strains from her words.

“What does that mean? I can’t imagine your parents not caring. That’s…”

Her head snaps in my direction. “Ridiculous? Don’t be so sure.”

The expression on her face is cold, like a girl who’s lost everything.

It breaks me to see her like this. I need to do something. Anything. Gingerly, I step closer, and wonder to myself if I should reach for her. If she’d let me.

“I’m so sorry, Koren,” I say as I close in. “If I’d known that—”

“No,” she cries, shaking her head, one hand held out against my chest. “I’m sorry, Aiden.”

Her ever-changing emotions blindside me.

“For what?” I ask.

A sob bursts from her lips. Tears trickle down her cheeks as she says, “For bringing the Brethren to you.”

he world spills out on top of me. It’s like I’ve been tipped upside down and left to tumble downward into eternity. Koren’s confession brings every thought, every emotion to a pause. She can’t possibly mean what she said. How could the girl I’ve known my whole life be the one causing my entire world to unravel?