The Haunting (18 page)

I stepped back through the door in a daze.

My friends all stood together, arguing amongst themselves. They froze when they saw me.

“Where’s Read?” Phoebe asked immediately.

I shook my head. “He’s safe for now,” I lied. If I kept it up, I might get good at lying. I didn’t want to tell her that I might have just sent our friend off to his death. I could have just volunteered someone to take my fall. I felt my chest tighten as tears threatened to invade my eyes. Closing them, I lowered my chin to hide my face and took a few deep breaths.

“Where’s safe?” Joel asked.

“Somewhere out there,” I said, my voice cracking, betraying me.

“Why did you get to come back and he didn’t?” Phoebe demanded.

“Hey,” Joel said, but Phoebe drowned him out. “That was our friend, and you just fed him and yourself to the wolves. What are you thinking? Don’t the rest of us have an opinion?”

I felt my face redden. “He’s not—”

“Hey!” Joel’s booming voice shocked both us into silence.

Joel pointed to the window. “The Reapers are gone.”

Phoebe and I pivoted to see the doorway empty.

“Let’s go,” Phoebe breathed. “We have to catch up with them.”

Before I could step forward, Phoebe shoved past me. For being sick with poison, she still had a firm shoulder check.

I caught my balance and rubbed my arm. I couldn’t blame her. She didn’t know yet. Hell, I was going on a guess really.

I could have just condemned my friend to death
, I thought uneasily. She had every right to be mad at me. I tucked the guilt away for later, well
tried
to.

“Phoebe,” I protested as she approached the door, “what if…”

Before I could finish, she swung it open.

I froze and stared into the dark. The car ahead of us was dim.

Phoebe stepped outside, onto the hitch, and frowned. “We’re in the tunnels again.”

“What about this door?” Joel asked, already moving to the one where Read disappeared. He jerked it open, and we were stuck with the same scenario. The darkened tunnels surrounded the motionless train.

“Let’s get out of here,” Joel said. “Claire could still be out here.”

One by one, we jumped down from the train hitch and looked around us for any clue where to go. There was a 50% chance we’d wander the wrong way.

“Pick,” Phoebe said to me, her voice acidic.

I glanced back at them and saw all eyes on me. “Um,” I tugged at my shirt, “right?”

“Are you sure?” Joel asked.

“No,” I said and started walking to avoid their stares.

I could only hope that they’d follow. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t, though.

“So why did you come back?” Phoebe asked, her voice bouncing off the walls.

I shrugged, not looking back, and twisted my shirt in my fist. “They said I was a willing sacrifice, and it didn’t work that way.”

“But she picked people,” Phoebe protested.

Joel interrupted. “Yeah, but Nora wasn’t picked, remember? You were.”

I could hear Phoebe breathing heavier, catching up to me. “Did you know that would happen?”

“No,” I said. “Gretchen just took Read.” I glanced back to see her limp wasn’t quite as visible. Her step had lightened, and she didn’t need Joel or Cody’s assistance anymore.

My heart lifted at that.

“Why didn’t you fight to keep him?” Phoebe demanded.

“What could I do?” I asked.

“Whatever it is that you can. You’ve done it before.”

“What?” Cody piped up.

“Listen,” I said coming to a halt, “I had to let him go.”

“
Had
to?” She snorted.

I flinched, but she wasn’t charging me yet, so that was a good sign.

“Why are you so calm about this?” Phoebe asked and glanced to Joel and Cody for confirmation. “Our friend could be eaten.”

“He’s not our friend,” I said.

“You’re a fucking dick. Where do you—” Phoebe took two steps closer, fists clenched.

Before she could swing, I shouted, “He was a fake!”

My outburst stopped everything. No one spoke until my echo had long faded.

I said, “He wasn’t really Read.”

“That’s impossible,” Joel said.

Cody raised a hand as if we were in class. “Not really,” he said. “When we were trapped here, I thought I saw Nora once.”

“So did I,” Phoebe muttered, hugging herself. “I saw Aidan too, but they weren’t real.” She sucked her cheeks in before looking up at me. “Did Damien tell you?”

“No,” I said. “At least not outright, but the clues were there.”

“You can’t trust him,” Phoebe warned.

That’s what everyone says
. “I didn’t,” I protested. “I guessed.”

“
Guessed
?” Phoebe bristled, “You
guessed
?”

“Are you feeling better, Phoebe?” I asked.

She paused, and Joel looked her over. “You’re standing on your own again.”

“Then I made a good guess,” I said stubbornly.

Before they could ask further, Cody came to my rescue. “We can’t argue about this now.” He started walking again, and we clustered together as a group.

After a few minutes, Joel asked, “So what if he
was
Read?”

I looked up at him, my voice firm. “It wasn’t.”

Cody shoved his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders. “Did you see it in the vision?”

When I didn’t answer, he added, “You know, from the witches?” He didn’t look at any of us. “I mean, were they true?”

I remembered Neive and said, “Mine was.”

“What was yours?” Phoebe asked cautiously.

I turned to her and asked, “What was yours?” I dared her to say it out loud.

We fell stubbornly silent, neither of us wanting to give in first. It was ridiculous really. Phoebe and I had been friends since we were kids. We shouldn’t be fighting like this. We both had our backs up, and though usually I’d let her win, I wasn’t about to today.

“They’re watching us. We should keep walking,” Cody said.

I realized he was looking past us.

We all turned to see two faces in the windows of the caboose. The Reapers pressed their little noses to the glass, the curtains brushed away.

I said, afraid to turn around, “They’re not chasing us. It could be a trap.”

“It’s always a trap,” Phoebe retorted.

We started to hurry away, our steps quick but not quite a jog. And not a single person turned their back fully to the train until it was out of sight.

Rounding the first bend, I ran into Joel’s shoulder. He didn’t move, solidly built and all. I, however, bounced off him and hit the wall.

The sickeningly sour smell hit me first.

Reeling, I covered my mouth and nose and peered past Joel.

A room sat in front of us, circular and small. A shiny black rock slab that looked like hematite dominated the middle, and we walked single file around it to the only other doorway.

Torches burned on either side of the room, illuminating it in a jerky orange light.

The stench grew fouler by the second.

“I hope that’s not what I think it is,” Phoebe said nasally. She had her nose pinched between two fingers.

Joel led the way and motioned to the stone table. “Does anyone know this nightmare? Which movie or book?”

Cody said softly, “Probably not ‘til we see the monster.”

“If we can help it,” Phoebe said, “I’d rather not wait that long.”

In the light, I could see the spidery poison hadn’t receded on her legs, but her color had returned.

“The real question,” I said, “is what’s down there?” I pointed to the darkened tunnel ahead.

Joel shook his head. “Why don’t you check it out for us, Nora?”

I heard the edge of sarcasm in his voice and ignored him. Climbing over the rock to get ahead of him, I realized that it was exactly what I was going to do. I glanced at the torches, but they were rigged into the wall. Guess I wouldn’t be taking any light with me.

I might have been pushing my luck, but Damien appointed me a guardian, and as mad as Phoebe might be with me, she’d have to do. The rest, though, were on their own.

“I’ll go in first to make sure it’s safe,” I said.

“Alone?” Phoebe asked incredulously.

“Yeah. No point in dragging you guys into danger.”

“What about you?” Phoebe asked.

“He wants me alive,” I said.

Phoebe sobered and exchanged a glance with Joel.

“Are you sure?” Cody asked. “Maybe I should go in first.”

“What is with you?” Phoebe asked him. “You’ve been diving at everything lately.”

“I’m going,” I said firmly and stepped through the opening before anyone could argue. “If it’s too far, I’ll come back and we’ll go together.”

The shadows fell around me invitingly cold. I hugged myself, inching further until the darkness swallowed me whole.

“Nora?” asked Cody.

“I’m still here,” I answered. I unlatched my arms and spread them out. I felt the smooth stone walls on either side of me. Trailing my fingertips along them, I discovered they were blissfully dry. I didn’t know if I could have dealt with sticky or wet without seeing it.

My toes curled at each step, feeling for any unexpected holes or stairs through my socks.

“Keep talking to us,” Phoebe’s voice carried down the corridor, echoing.

The smell became worse, if that was possible, and speaking forced me to taste it. I gagged, the sound echoing back.

“That’s nice,” Phoebe said flatly.

“It’s worse here.” I pinched my nose, keeping the other on the wall, but the damage was done. I fought my gag reflex and ignored the saliva that flooded my mouth.

“What do I say?” I asked after a pause.

“Anything,” Phoebe urged, concern in her voice for the first time since we had encountered the witches. “Sing a song,” she suggested.

Oh, that would be rich. “Uh,” I said, embarrassed, digging through my memory for the first song that came to mind.

I said the words in a melody rather than sing them.

Phoebe’s snorting chuckle echoed back to me.

I sang and hummed a nasally “Hotel California.”

Even with my nose plugged, I still struggled to keep the bile from rising. My stomach clenched. I tried to focus on humming the tune instead, but it wasn’t easy.

A voice reached me, not from behind where my friends clustered together but in front of me.

“Please,” the tiny voice pleaded.

“Claire?” I asked. “Claire, is that you?”

“Don’t come in,” she warned.

I ran into what felt like a thin wooden door. It bounced under my thump; otherwise, I might have mistaken it for a dead end or a wooden wall.

I whispered, “Claire, I’m coming to get you.”

“No,” she said softly, “please.”

Ignoring her, I fumbled for a door handle. It was higher than most door handles and took me several seconds to find it.

My fingers clasped around the long handle up by my shoulders. It wasn’t locked as I pushed it downward.

I heard Phoebe shout, sounding distant. “Fuller?”

I had stopped singing.

Flinging the door open, I called back over my shoulder, “I have Claire!”

I was grateful I didn’t look into the room first; I might not have been able to shout.

It was Phoebe’s aunt’s basement again. The dim lights overhead shone enough to show Claire. She was laid out on the wooden table, her hands bound in front of her with rope. She sat up the moment I flung the door open. Her eyes wide, she nearly screamed, “Don’t look!”

People need to learn not to say that.

I followed her gaze towards the stairs and saw the bodies. A mountain of bodies. Most of them were naked and formless. Limp, rotting corpses of men and women but they weren’t them anymore—discarded and cold and writhing with maggots.

They were piled high, possibly seven layers of corpses all the way up the stairs. Limbs spilled out onto the carpet. But over them, I could make out a door.

The cloying stench was overpowering as I staggered back into the tunnel.

I could hear the quickened footsteps of my friends from behind just as Read came out from the nook where the phonograph had been. He wore a white clean apron over his clothes, his eyes cold and detached.

At first I was relieved, then dread flooded in a rush of adrenaline.

His arm was still bandaged, and he held it close to him. In his opposite hand, he held a large, shimmering meat cleaver.

Walking up beside Claire, Read grabbed the ropes around her wrists, tugging them closer to him, twisting her body to half face him.