Ultimate Supernatural Horror Box Set

Chapter 37

“Come on, Twerp Face, I don’t have time for this.”

Dad had gotten drunk, Cody was flipping out, the panels had bought them some time but the natives were getting restless, and the last thing Kendra needed was Bruce pulling another one of his “Now you see me, now you don’t” bits.

To make matters worse, that creepy little Rochester was with him. Bruce had popped out around the corner, about fifty feet down the hall, and held out her sketch pad. “Looking for this?” he’d said.

She’d left the sketch pad in the room with Dad, but if Digger was nursing a colossal hangover, an elephant parade could have waltzed through the room without his knowing it. Rochester the Rat-Faced Boy had also poked his head around the corner, and their footsteps and giggles faded down the hall.

Rochester was dressed in oddly formal clothes, a little black jacket and bow tie that looked like they’d been scavenged from a thrift shop. It was the frilly white shirt that was most out of place, the kind of clothes any normal boy would have ditched at the first opportunity.

Kendra was winded by the time she turned the second corner. The giggling seemed to come from all over, as if the boys had separated and were hiding in places behind the walls. One of them, probably Bruce, must have reached the attic through a hidden set of stairs. Except it sounded like several pairs of feet running overhead, not just one little twerp’s.

As she ran, she passed a couple of open rooms. People were getting ready for the night hunts, assuming SSI got its act together. Somebody yelled her name, but she didn’t slow down. Bruce knew all the secret nooks and crannies of the third floor, and if she didn’t rescue her sketchbook soon, she might not get it back by the end of the conference.

Then all her favorite characters would be lost—Emily Dee, the Circuit Rider, the Truth Fairy—and even though she carried them all in her head, the sketches represented months of work. They were more than her work; they were her life, her sanity.

But you saw him hanging.

Nah, that was just the ride on the koo-koo choo-choo. Sometimes you were the engine, sometimes you were the caboose.

When you opened the door to your imagination, you invited such things. It came with the territory. Creativity wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows and primary colors. Once in awhile, you scribbled with the gray crayon.

She came to a narrow door she hadn’t noticed before. It looked like a service door of some kind and it was parted a few inches, cool air oozing from the crack.

Bingo.

She opened it to find a narrow set of steep stairs that led up to darkness. The giggling grew quieter, followed by a shushing sound.

“Okay, Brucie, I know you’re up here. Just give me the sketch pad and nobody gets hurt.”

His voice came from the far corner of the attic: “Somebody always gets hurt.”

“I’m not in a real good mood right now.”

“What’s going on?” This voice was from the hall, below her.

Cody stood in the narrow doorway, gazing up at her. She was glad she was wearing black tights, or he’d have seen right up her skirt to her panties.

She shifted so that her legs were drawn together. “Just getting back some personal property,” she said, realizing how absurd she must look.

“I saw you on the camera, running down the hall.”

“That boy I told you about. He took my sketch pad.”

“What boy?”

“The one I was chasing.”

“K-babe, there wasn’t anyone. I was watching.”

“Cut the crap, Cody. He was there.” Just like when he was hanging, right?

“You’ve been around The Digger too long. You’re starting to lose it.”

“They ran up here. I heard them laughing.”

“They? Now you’re having multiple hallucinations?” Cody took a flashlight from his belt and flicked it on, angling the beam into her face. “Nobody’s supposed to use this access.”

She squinted back at him. “Are you going to let me go up here in the dark alone, after all your bitching and moaning about demons and danger?”

“Uh...guess not.” He started up the stairs, and she eased onto the dark platform of the attic before he got too close and they’d have to rub bodies. Once they were both in the crawl space, Cody played the beam around, revealing low-hanging ceiling joists.

“We have a camera at the other end of the attic, remember?” he said. “I haven’t seen any kids.”

“They’re hiding. It’s what they do. Bruce, he’s the caretaker’s kid, he knows all these secret stairs and passageways and keeps popping out of nowhere.”

“Yeah. Right.”

“And there’s Rochester the Rat-Faced Boy, whose dressed like somebody out of a funeral parlor. Then there’s Dorrie the Doughball, and—”

“Whoa. These are characters from your comic book, right? The one you’ve been drawing?”

“No. Real people. And Bruce stole my sketchbook after I saw him hanging around in my room.” She’d bent the truth a little, but it was just a little white lie. Dad had taught her that lies were always better than promises. But sometimes they were the same.

Cody raised the flashlight so they could see one another’s face. “Okay, I know you’re under a lot of stress. Burton told me about your dad. We’re hoping we can pull off these hunts so SSI doesn’t get burned. And... your mom....”

“What about my mom?” Her lip trembled, despite herself.

“It must be weird with your dad thinking he’s run into her.”

“She’s dead. That’s all I know for a fact. The rest is just stuff for you to throw on Facebook for a laugh.”

“Kendra, I followed you because—”

“Because you feel sorry for me? Because you want to ‘help’ me? Like I’m some lost spirit that has to be guided to the light?”

“Because I—goddamn it, you sure don’t make it easy, do you?”

“Not my job. Now help me look for Bruce.”

She snatched the flashlight from his hand and navigated the uneven rows of support beams. A bed of shredded paper served as insulation on the attic floor, though a series of gangplanks allowed access through the crawlspace for needed repairs.

“Careful,” Cody said, close behind her. “If you step through, you’re liable to keep falling all the way to the basement.”

“Shh. Did you hear that?”

They were silent a moment. Muted conversation came from below them, obviously guests getting ready for the night’s hunt.

Kendra swept the flashlight in an arc. Cody grabbed her arm and guided it, pressing against her from behind. Even in her anger and fear, she noted the contours of his body. “The chimney,” he said.

She recognized it from the video Cody had shown her. “That’s where Dad saw the ghost.”

“The rigged image, you mean. We busted those clowns. Come on, let’s find their projector.”

His breath was on the back of her neck and she closed her eyes. Emily Dickinson never had these problems. “I’m more interested in my sketch pad at the moment, thank you.”

Cody let go of her arm. “I guess we all have our priorities. Piercing the veil between life and death or a bunch of pages of cartoon doodles. Tough choice.”

“What’s with you, Cody? You used to be so cool. Now you’re starting to believe your own blog posts.” She flipped the light toward him, and the beam was waist high, shining up into his face and casting his eyes in deep red shadows.

“We’ve got some real evidence here. A lot of active readings. If we can just keep it together, we may be able to make a case.”

“You’ve been drinking Digger’s punch, huh?” The dust nearly made her sneeze, and she wiped her nose so she didn’t blow her temper tantrum. “SSI and the White Horse Hauntings. Buy the DVD, read the book, eat the goddamned cereal, and by the way, I’ll come lecture at your conference for ten grand a day. That’s what the future’s all about, right?”

“This isn’t about money or ego,” Cody said. “It’s about knowing.”

“Who cares?” The attic was chilly and she shivered, wishing Cody’s body heat would enwrap and kindle her.

“Don’t you want to know where your mom went?”

“Leave her out of this.”

“Digger told me, so don’t act like a child.”

“Damn you, I’m not a child.”

She let the flashlight sag to her side, their faces in darkness. Where they were safe.

He touched her cheek. Emily Dickinson may have been a moribund virgin but maybe she still drifted over her beloved New England meadows, places she dared not walk while alive.

Sleeping the churchyard sleep? Or searching for that missing master?

His breath was close, soft on her cheeks, and then his lips found hers. She flicked the flashlight off, afraid of his dangerous eyes.

First kiss...and it tastes like strawberries and pennies.

Giggles erupted. A child’s voice whispered, “He’s going to touch her noonie.”

Cody’s lips froze and pulled back. “What the—”

She jabbed at the flashlight casing, fumbling for the switch. The giggling swelled, as if half a dozen kids were gathered around in the utter darkness, teasing and making fun of their kiss. She finally thumbed the light on and waved it wildly around.

“You heard it?” Cody asked.

“Yeah.”

“Now do you believe me?”

“Do you believe me?”

Cody nodded. “Maybe we’re both right. There are ghosts here and this Bruce guy stole your sketch pad.”

“What kind of ghost plays tricks like that?”

“Well, it’s not a residual, because they reacted to our—you know.”

She touched her lips, which still tingled. “Yeah.”

“I hate to say it, but based on the other evidence, I believe we have a true demonic haunting.”

“A demon? Like in ‘The Exorcist’ and all that?”

“Worse. Multiples.”

“Christ. What are we waiting for? Let’s get out of here.”

“What about my sketch pad?”

“Your weakness. They’re using it to gain power over you.”

He guided her toward the access opening, his hands firm and confident on her shoulders. Cody called out to the recesses of the attic. “I’ll be back.”

Kendra thought the challenge was a little foolhardy, even though she didn’t believe in demons. She’d heard SSI talk about them, theorizing that they were fallen angels who were rebelling against God for being cast out of heaven. Why would demons bother playing such silly pranks, when they supposedly had the power to inflict real harm and destruction?

That kind of talk was for later, in the safety of a well-lighted room with a cup of herbal tea in her hand. She’d get Cody to tell her about it, asking enough questions that she could gaze into his eyes for hours, maybe luring him into another kiss or two. She was nearly to the square of light marking the access when the door below slammed shut.

“Cody?”

“Right behind you, kid.”

She turned and Cody was nowhere in sight, but Rochester seemed happy to see her. He grinned like a rat wallowing in contaminated cheese.