The Gathering Darkness (18 page)

He took his hand out from behind the seat and brought it up to my face. I stopped breathing and held perfectly still as his fingers traced lightly over the scratch on my forehead and down past the outside of my eyebrow. Feather light, they brushed past the gravel burn on my cheek, to the scratch on my chin. Then, his hand slipped around back of my neck, under my hair. Tingles shimmered over every inch of my skin. It was an effort just to keep breathing.

Something happened to me in that moment. My heart burst open and wrapped itself around Marcus—encasing him inside. I don’t know where I found the nerve to say what I said next, it just flew out of me.

His fingers played at my hairline, sending pleasant shimmers of coolness down my spine. I shifted my body; ending up a few inches closer, so that our knees touched. I felt myself blush before the words were out.

“I think I really like you … a lot.”

His brilliant smile lit up his eyes. “I don’t have to think. I know I really like you. I knew from the moment I saw you on the first day of school. Somehow, I knew right away that you were different from anyone else I’d ever met.”

Exactly what I’d thought when I’d first seen him. My heart fluttered, remembering the first time I’d seen him getting out of the Civic. How familiar he seemed.

His smile softened, and his eyes lightened. Was I in his heart now too? I felt pressure on the back of my neck and knew what was coming. Our bodies closed the gap between us. Inches apart and seconds away from our first kiss; chain lightning lit up the sky like a million florescent lights, followed by a deafening thunder clap. We sprung apart. My hand flew to my chest. I took some deep breaths.

“Damn! That sounded close,” Marcus said.

“Geez, I almost had a heart attack,” I said.

There was another loud crack. Torrential rains pounded steadily against the truck. I looked at the clock, still trying to slow my heart-rate. It was five-forty.

“We’re late,” I said.

Marcus and I had both turned toward the front. The moment was lost. He looked as disappointed as I felt.

“Okay, let’s make a run for it,” he said.

I flipped my hood back on. Just as I was about to open the truck door, something pounded on the outside of it.

“Oh! What was that?” I grabbed my chest again.

“That was Evan letting us know he’s here.”

“I don’t think my heart could take another scare.”

W
e left the truck at the same time and ran together, splashing through the puddles that had accumulated on the ground already. How ironic that I was running to the Inn, instead of away from it.

The little doorstep had a roof. Before Marcus opened the door, he turned to face me. Rain dripped from the ends of his hair down the sides of his neck disappearing inside his collar. The porch light glistened off the layers of water that ran down the front of his leather jacket. Before I knew what was happening, he reached up and slid my hood down. Instead of lowering his hands, he molded them to the sides of my face. My heart fluttered sporadically. Thunder rumbled overhead. Rain blew at our feet, but I didn’t care. He was about to kiss me. Inches from mine, his lips parted slightly. I licked mine in case they were too dry. Finally, I felt the feathery softness of his lips brush against mine.

The front door flew open. We pulled back. Evan stood in the foyer with his arms folded.

“You’re late!”

Marcus rolled his eyes and grabbed my hand, leading the way into Dracula’s Castle just as another lightning bolt lit up the sky, followed by another crack of thunder.

In contrast to the brightness of the lightning outside, the inside of the Inn almost looked as though it was in darkness. I swallowed hard and squeezed Marcus’ hand.

Evan cleared his throat. “Whenever you two are ready, we’ve got work to do. Remember, Marcus? The painting?”

His sarcasm hurt, but I guess I deserved it. I gave Marcus his hand back and took off my wind-breaker. Liquid ran off of it, dripping onto the wide plank floorboards. The front of my hair was soaked and was already in the process of curling. Water dripped from the ends, wetting the front of my hoodie. Marcus stood close by my side as if he was hesitant to leave me.

Beth entered the foyer smiling pleasantly. “Hi, Brooke, glad you could make it,” she said in her child-like voice.

I forced a smile back.

“Hi Evan, Hi Marcus.” Her eyes lingered a bit too long on Marcus for my comfort.

Creep
.

“Hey,” Evan mumbled.

“Hi, Beth. How are you tonight?” Marcus gifted Beth with one of his rare and cute smiles.

She beamed. Pathetically, so did I.

“I’m great, now that you’re here. I mean, all of you.” She said the last part too quickly.

Although Beth looked much younger than me, she seemed older, and I got an odd vibe from her. She dressed old-fashioned for her age, always in a dress and sweater, with white socks and shiny black shoes.

She tore her eyes from Marcus to look at me. “Tell Sammy we hope she feels better soon. You’re stuck with me tonight.” She continued to smile, emphasizing her dimples.

“Yeah, I will,” I said.

It was a strange relief I felt then. It was the most I’d heard her talk, and suddenly she didn’t seem as creepy anymore. The pendant even grew warm. I almost reached inside my top to touch it, but fought back the urge. I decided having Beth close by would be better than being alone in this place. There was no sign of Maggie.

I looked at Marcus and smiled, remembering how, just moments ago, his lips had brushed lightly against mine; so light I’d barely felt it, yet memorable enough for the feeling to linger. He smiled back, perhaps remembering also, and then disappeared up the grand staircase with Evan.

With a gesture from Beth, I followed her into the kitchen. I couldn’t get my mind off of the almost-kiss that almost happened twice. Maybe something or someone didn’t want us to kiss. I shuddered at the thought.

The kitchen was large and brightly colored, but not cheery—nothing in this building was cheery. And like the other rooms that I’d seen, this room looked as if it was from another era. Floral-printed wallpaper covered the upper-half of the walls, while an off-white wainscoting covered the bottom.

Beth stopped at a large butcher-block island in the middle of the room. Iron and copper pots dangled above her head. “It’s pretty nasty out there tonight. I almost called to tell you to stay home if you wanted, but this place gets pretty lonely when you’re here by yourself.”

There was a vulnerability about her that began to form a soft spot inside of me. Now I understood why Marcus went the extra mile to be nice to her. Maybe he felt sorry for her, too.

“Where’s Maggie?” I asked, forcing her name between my lips.

“She’s away for a couple of days. Gone to Salem to visit family.”

“Oh.” Immediately, I began to relax, until something hit me. “You mean she leaves you here by yourself?”

“I’m used to it, and besides, I’m never really alone. Tonight’s one of the few nights that the Inn doesn’t happen to have any guests.”

“But you’re so—”

“Young?”

I nodded.

She smiled and said, “I’m not as young as you think.”

I decided not to press on that subject. But I was still curious about her. “So, how long have you worked here?”

She turned away from me, busying herself at the counter. “A long time, and I’ve lived here even longer.”

“Oh. You live here too?” The news unsettled me. Beth would be very close to Maggie if she lived here.

She nodded. “Maggie is my … legal guardian,” she said while organizing a plate of cookies.

“What about school. Do you go to the middle school?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m home schooled.”

“Oh.” That would explain why I’d never seen her walking home from school.

“These are for the boys,” she said with her hands on the plate of cookies she’d just arranged. It was clear she wasn’t going to offer any more information. “Later, you can take the cookies upstairs to them with a cup of hot chocolate. And one for yourself too, of course.”

I could handle that.

“What will I be doing tonight?” I was curious.

“I have everything you need to iron set up in a room upstairs.”

Ironing didn’t seem so bad.

“I’ll be close by if you need anything,” she added.

When Beth finished arranging cookies, she led me upstairs. The emptiness of the Inn surrounded me like a giant tomb. The last time I’d been here, the rooms on either side of the foyer were filled with people. Now they were dark, empty holes. I tried not to think about it and stared straight ahead.

Beth led me to a room I hadn’t been in before. It was down a hallway, opposite of the one I’d been in with Sammy making beds. This room hadn’t been freshly painted yet. The once white paint had discolored and chipped off the walls in places. A large table had been set up with a mountain of linens on top. An ironing board and iron were the only other items in the room.

“Come down whenever you want a break and get the cookies and hot chocolate,” Beth said on her way out the door.

“Okay, thanks.”

I ironed uneventfully for an hour. The storm seemed to recede as it had before, and I was grateful. Halfway through the pile of linens, I picked up a white table cloth and placed it on the ironing board. Lightening flashed outside, accompanied by a sharp crack of thunder—the loudest yet. My hand froze like a claw over the iron’s handle. I stared at the small rectangular window and held my breath as the lights flickered, went out, and came back on again.

“That was close,” I said out loud.

Perspiration beaded on my forehead. With the back of my hand I wiped it away and decided it was time for cookies and hot chocolate—my excuse to see Marcus, and I needed the company, even if Evan would be involved. I unplugged the iron and left the room.

As I hurried through the maze of hallways, Beth was nowhere in sight, and I didn’t look very hard. I wasn’t about to explore the unknown by myself. The cheerless kitchen held no comfort as I made three steaming cups of hot chocolate. Not even the intoxicating aroma wafting under my nose could take away the fear that prickled my skin. Marcus. I had to see him. It would be awkward with Evan there, but as long as I had company for a while, I would suffer through Evan’s bitterness toward me.

Outside, the steady rumble overhead threatened to explode again. As quickly as I could without spilling the hot liquid I carried, I ascended the staircase. When I reached the curve halfway up, more lightening flashed. The lights flickered again. This time they went out for half a minute then came back on.

“Oh please,” I pleaded to no one in particular, “please let the lights stay on.”

With another step came more lightening, bringing more crackling thunder with it. The chandelier crystals tinkled, and the light bulbs flickered like fireflies. As I braved another step, I saw movement out of the corner of my right eye. The pendant grew cold against my skin.

A huge dreary painting hung on the wall to my right. I hadn’t noticed it before. Lightning flashed through the stained glass window at the top of the stairs, casting an eerie rainbow across the painting and the surrounding wall.

The picture was of the Ravenwyck at night. The dark green building was barely visible against the night sky. There were two antique-looking cars in the parking lot along with a few carriages that horses would have pulled.

With a new sense of urgency to reach Marcus, I turned away and took another step. Again I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. As if compelled, I turned back to the painting. There was movement in the bottom right corner, next to the ornate bronze frame. I flicked my eyes up to the stained glass window, hoping there was a tree branch or something that might have cast a shadow on the wall, but outside the window, all was suddenly still. The only sounds now were my shallow breathing and pounding heart.

As I stared at the painting, unable to look away, a black shadow crept into the foreground, looking like spilled ink. Within seconds the shadow separated and transformed into five hooded, back-robed figures. As if someone shot ice water through my veins, my body turned cold, and I froze to the spot. The tray I carried fell out of my hands, crashing down every step until it reached the foyer floor.

But my focus was on the painting and the figures now drifting up the walkway. When they reached halfway, between the gate and the Inn, they turned. Their eyes, dark and glossy, peeked out at me from under their hoods.

My knees weakened, and I fell to the step. “This isn’t real,” I whispered to myself. “It has to be another nightmare.” My fingers gripped the edge of the step, digging painfully into the carpet.

The person in the middle of the group lifted an arm and held it out straight. From under the black bell sleeve, a white, bony hand appeared. The hand reached toward me. I tried pushing myself backwards, but I was already against the railing. Unable to breathe, I watched as the claw-like fingers emerged from the painting. Every cut over my entire body sizzled and stung with renewed life. I shrieked from the pain, piercing the silence.