The Haunting of Gabriel Ashe (3 page)

“CAUGHT YOU.” A shadow slithered forward onto the carpet.

Gabe backed against a bookcase, jostling it hard enough to topple a few books off the shelves. They hit the floor with a
whoomp
. He heard his grandmother’s chuckle and felt his face burn. The moonlight illuminated Elyse with a ghostly phosphorescence. Her floor-length black satin robe was tied tightly at her waist. The rocking chair continued to sway, brushing at the backs of her thin legs. She’d been sitting alone in the dark.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Gabe managed to say after a moment.

“So you thought you’d do some snooping?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Mom said you have a lot of books.” He nodded at the shelves.

“To say the least.” His grandmother stared at him. She looked different—softer than usual. At first he thought it was the strange light, but then Gabe realized that her face was clean of makeup.

“May I borrow one?” he asked.

“Of course. That’s what they’re here for.”

Surprised, Gabe turned to the closest shelf. “Mom said you might have a few of the ones whose covers you illustrated?”

“You don’t have them already?”

“Dad got me copies when I was younger. But the fire…”

“Of course,” she said. “The fire.” Elyse motioned for him to follow her toward the window. “Here they are.” She nodded at another bookcase. Gabe examined the books’ spines. One name leapt out again and again.

“Wow, that’s a lot of Nathaniel Olmstead.”

Elyse raised an eyebrow. She pulled a thin volume from a shelf and brushed off the cover. “Yes. The creepiest author of the past thirty or so years.” A smile spread across her face. “I always tell people that, since he was my bread and butter. I illustrated almost all of Nathaniel’s covers. At one time, his stories made us both pretty famous.” She handed the book to Gabe. He ran his hand across the title.
The Revenge of the Nightmarys
. “The publisher asked me to create a set of trading cards for this one, way back when kids still cared about that sort of thing. I hear that now you’re all collecting and trading electronic things. ‘Stuff’ doesn’t even exist anymore.
That
, to me, is spooky.”

The illustration on the cover was a sketchy pen-and-ink image of a shadowy attic room. A group of girls clothed in tattered dresses stood in a line, reaching out with clawlike fingernails. He thought it was pretty cool that his grandmother had been able to come up with something so macabre.

“Go on. Read it. I dare you.”

“Thanks,” said Gabe, tucking it under his arm. “I think.” He wasn’t sure it was the sort of book that would help him get back to sleep, but he didn’t want to offend her.

Elyse moved toward the window and stared out at the moonlit meadow, turning her back on him.

He realized that this was the first real conversation they’d had since he’d come to stay at Temple House. She’d been so busy helping with the baby, with the organizing, with the stress. “Why were you sitting down here in the dark?” he asked.

“You weren’t the only one who couldn’t sleep,” she said, glancing at him from over her shoulder. “When I’m up late, I come in here and watch the night.” She sighed. “Sometimes it watches me back.”

Gabe shuddered. “And that doesn’t, like, freak you out?”

She glanced over her shoulder.
“Freak me out?”
She smiled, nodding at the collection of oddities that filled her shelves. “In case you can’t tell, it takes quite a lot to ‘freak me out,’ Gabriel.”

“Where did you get all of it?” Gabe picked up a stone figurine from a small collection. The humanoid figures all wore long cloaks. Their postures were static, erect, almost monklike.

“Here and there,” said Elyse. “New York thrift stores. Massachusetts junk shops. Flea markets and yard sales all over New England.”

Gabe held up the figurine. “I think Seth Hopper has one just like this,” he said. “I saw it at his house the other day. Standing on a shelf in the spare bedroom.”

Elyse was silent for a moment, then said, “How funny.” She deliberately took the object from him and placed it back on the shelf. Gabe felt like he’d made a mistake by mentioning it. “A couple years ago, I remember purchasing five of these little men at a comic book store where I was doing a signing. But now, there are only four. Apparently, one simply walked off.” She gazed directly into Gabe’s eyes. “Isn’t that the strangest thing?”

“Yeah,” said Gabe. Was she implying that Seth had somehow taken it from this room? How was that possible? Seth had never mentioned entering Temple House. “Really strange.”

Elyse nodded at the book under Gabe’s arm. “You found what you were looking for. Better hurry back to bed, before the monsters under your mattress realize you’re still awake.”

AFTER THE ROBBER PRINCES RETURNED the blonde baby to her parents, the kingdom of Haliath rejoiced, but Wraithen and Meatpie only allowed themselves to feel a fleeting victory. They were certain that the Hunter was still out there in the dark forest of Howler’s Notch, watching, waiting, plotting to lure them into the shadows once again.

And so, early the next day, they met at the forest edge, where Wraithen’s territory gave way to wilderness. The morning air was warm and damp. A canopy of silvery leaves towered high above, providing a cool, if temporary, shade. The boys listened to the woods. Critters scurried through ground brush. Birds called playfully to one another from across the rocky cradle of land beyond which stood the Kingdom of Chicken Guts. That the forest was so vocal was a good sign. No animals were hiding from predators.

“I received a tip,” said Wraithen, shouldering his pack and starting into the forest, “from an archer who went to retrieve a lost arrow.”

Meatpie followed reluctantly. “Why would an archer risk entering these woods for a stupid old arrow?”

Wraithen threw him a dirty look. “I don’t know
why
. He just did. He said he found an altar of some sort—a pile of rocks next to a tree with a crooked trunk. He thinks the altar might be where the monster works his magic.”

“So the Hunter is
magic
now?”

Wraithen stiffened, but continued onward. “If we destroy the altar, we may destroy some of his power.”

“Okay,” said Meatpie. “So you’re suggesting we take apart his pile of rocks.”

“His
altar
. Yes. We destroy it.” Wraithen stopped and pointed. “There.”

Ahead, a small tree stood upon an upraised mound that jutted slightly from the hillside. Its trunk grew from the ground at a sharp angle, leaning dramatically to the right. And just as Wraithen had described, a mound of stones—stacked at least five high—stood directly beside it, looking as though it were preventing the tree from tipping over. In a way, the site looked holy.

At the crest of the slope, Meatpie placed his palm on the crooked tree. It released a faint vibration. He instinctively pulled away. Standing unaware beside him, Wraithen reached out and lifted a stone from the top of the pile. “Hunter, be gone!” he cried, and tossed the stone. It spun like a discus down the hill, hit the ground, and rolled, coming to rest at the edge of a small brook.

Meatpie grabbed a stone too, but as he swung his arm back to throw, a harsh voice whispered in his ear,
DON’T!

Gabe spun. No one was there. Seth stood on the opposite side of the tree—not nearly close enough to whisper like that. Had he been so lost in the game that he’d imagined it? He felt someone watching them. He glanced up the hill, then down. As far as he could tell, no one else was around, just him and Seth…well, Meatpie and Wraithen.

Seth continued to examine the rock mound, his shoulders pulled back in a regal stance.

“You knew this tree was out here, right?” asked Gabe.

“Only because the archer told me.”

“Stop,” said Gabe. “Just for a second. Stop.” Seth blinked at him and Wraithen was gone. “Did
you
build this thing?” he asked.

Seth sighed, frustrated. “You can’t keep doing that!” he said.

“Doing what?”

“Quitting the game.”

“I didn’t quit,” said Gabe. “I hit pause for a second. But seriously. What
is
this?” He gestured at the makeshift altar. “It’s creepy.”

Seth shrugged. “I told you. These woods are weird.”

“You keep saying that,” said Gabe, planting his feet in the soft ground, even as it seemed to shift beneath his sneakers. “But it’s not an answer.” He remembered hearing heavy boots cross the path when he and Seth had been alone, and later, seeing that shadow at the edge of the forest from the library window. He sensed that his grandmother had seen it too, and worse, that she might have been seeing it for a while.
The woods are dangerous.
And now, a voice had whispered in his ear. Loudly. “Someone built this ‘altar’ from pieces of the old walls. It must have taken a lot of work. Who would do that? Why?”

“Who cares?
We
can use it for our game.” The game. Right. Of course. Seth added, “I noticed the altar from the path over there about a year ago. I remembered it this morning and thought exploring it would be fun.” Gabe stared uncertainly at the rocks. “High school kids mess around back here sometimes. Maybe
they
piled them.” Gabe raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Does it really matter?”

“I guess not,” said Gabe. “It’s just…I thought I heard something.”

He touched the crooked tree again and realized that the vibration he’d felt earlier had simply been the breeze echoing down the trunk from the top branches.

“What kind of something?”

“A voice. It whispered, ‘
Don’t
.’”

“Don’t?” Seth laughed. “Don’t
what
?”

Before he’d fallen asleep the previous night, Gabe had managed to read a few pages of the book his grandmother had lent him. In the morning, when he remembered the vivid imagery of the ghost girls, his stomach felt tight. He hadn’t been able to shake it. He’d had no idea that books could do that: dare him to finish reading. “I’m being a weirdo,” said Gabe, if only to stop Seth from staring. “I slept funny last night.”

Seth smiled slightly. “You want to take a break?” Gabe nodded. “Come on. I’ll make us some peanut butter sandwiches.”

Gabe checked the time on his phone. “Yeah, but I can’t stay too long.” He had to be back by noon if he was to make it to the pool party on time—the one Mazzy Lerman had said Seth wasn’t invited to.

THE HOPPERS’ COTTAGE STOOD in a wide meadow at the bottom of the slope. It was a dingy white box of a building. A wide porch drooped from the front. Tall grass and weeds grew around its foundation. A gravel driveway stretched off into the woods on the opposite side of the wide yard, leading to the road that wound back up the hill toward Temple House. A ramshackle barn loomed over the driveway, and beyond it stood a small, empty stable. A large portion of the nearby yard was fenced in. Seth had told Gabe that they’d once owned a horse, that he’d learned to ride it through the trails in the woods. But they’d sold it a few years back. He didn’t say why.

When the boys stepped onto the porch, Seth froze. “Shoot,” he whispered, glancing around the side of the house at a small blue Honda parked in the driveway. “My mom’s still home.” Gabe hadn’t met Mrs. Hopper yet. Seth had made her out to be a real weirdo: sleeping all day, accidentally putting her clothes on backward, staring into space for hours at a time.

Inside the house, Seth practically dashed down the short hall to his bedroom. When Gabe slipped through the doorway behind him, Seth closed the door.

“Seth! Is that you, honey?” a soft voice called.

“Yeah!” Seth shouted out.

Footsteps padded down the hall. “I called in sick today,” Mrs. Hopper said through the closed door. “I thought we could—”

“Again?” Seth interrupted.

Gabe backed himself against Seth’s bed, suddenly uncomfortable.

The door creaked open slightly. Seth’s mother was a dim shape visible through the crack between the door and the jamb. “I wasn’t up for it,” she said.

“Hopefully they won’t fire you this time,” said Seth, plopping down in a chair beside his desk. “Helen’s probably tired of covering your tables for you.”

Gabe’s face burned with embarrassment. He couldn’t imagine talking to his own mother that way.

The door swung wider. “Oh. I didn’t realize you had someone here.” Mrs. Hopper held on to the doorknob as she peered in at the boys. She wore thick glasses that made her eyes look enormous. She was dressed in a faded purple sweat suit, and her gray-streaked hair was rumpled. She looked like she’d just gotten out of bed.

Gabe glanced at Seth, expecting him to make introductions, but as Seth stared at the desk, he realized that wasn’t going to happen. “Hi,” Gabe said, waving from his spot near the bed. “I’m Gabe.”

“I-I’m Sharon,” she said, touching her hair, apparently realizing how she must look. “Seth’s mom.”

“Yeah, he gets it,” Seth mumbled, looking up. “Gabe’s grandmother is Mrs. Ashe. His family moved in with her last month.”

Sharon’s face lit up. “Oh…yes.” Then she shook her head, morphing her mouth into a serious expression. “I’m so sorry to hear about the fire.”

“It’s okay,” said Gabe. “At least we’re all alive.” His mother’s words. “That’s what’s important.”

“We’re kind of busy, Mom,” said Seth.

“Oh. I apologize. Didn’t mean to intrude. Let me know if you boys need anything.”

After Sharon shut the door, Seth turned to Gabe and said, “Sorry about that.”

“About what?”

“
Sharon
,” said Seth with a sneer.

“She’s your mom,” said Gabe. “Why…why do you talk to her like that?”

Seth sighed. “Because she’s trying to ruin my life.” He was silent for a moment. “She’s lost three jobs in the past three years. Thank goodness my dad’s parents left us this house, or I’m sure we’d have been kicked out by some bank by now.”

“She said she was feeling sick.”

“She’s been saying that ever since my older brother, David, ran away. She’s
sick
”—Seth made air quotes with his fingers—“which means she won’t stop thinking about him. Like, ever.”

Gabe didn’t know what to say. This was the first time Seth had mentioned having a brother, never mind the fact that he’d run away. “So no one knows where David is?”

“He might be with my dad,” said Seth, carelessly moving objects around on his desk. Pens, paper, books. Back and forth. “But we don’t know where
he
is either, so I guess that doesn’t really matter.” Seth stopped what he was doing and stared at his hands, wearing a strange smile. “My family’s screwed up.”

“So’s mine,” said Gabe quietly, knowing that wasn’t quite true. Things weren’t nearly as bad for him as they seemed to be for Seth. In fact, right now, they didn’t seem bad at all.

Seth nodded. “That’s why we’re friends,” he said, looking up from his desk. “We get each other.”

“Yeah…sure.” Gabe sat down on the bed. “So the spare bedroom, the door next to this one, that was David’s?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And all the stuff in it?”

Seth squinted at Gabe. “Why are you asking?”

Gabe hesitated. “Well…the last time I came over, I noticed a little figurine on a shelf in there. A black stone carved in the shape of a man in a hooded cloak.”

“What about it?”

“My grandmother has a collection of them. The same exact kind.”

Seth’s face flushed red. “Oh, really? That’s funny.”

Gabe didn’t want to press the issue, but he was curious. “The figurine in the other room belonged to your brother?”

Seth turned back to his desk. “I guess so,” he said.

“My grandmother said that she’s missing one of them. From her collection.”

Seth stood. For a moment, he looked frightened. Angry. Like a cornered animal. Seconds later, he smiled. “Hey, you still hungry for that sandwich?” he asked.

Gabe couldn’t bring himself to smile back. This whole exchange had been so weird. “I should probably get going.”