Ultimate Supernatural Horror Box Set

Chapter 39

“Cody?” Kendra swept the flashlight beam past Rochester and into the recesses of the attic. Cody had been right beside her. How could he have just disappeared?

Rochester laughed. “What, want to play ‘kissy face’ some more?”

She thrust the beam into his face. He didn’t squint and his dark eyes seemed to soak up the light. “None of your business, you little rat-faced creep.”

His lips curled in anger. “Don’t call me that.”

“Just like a rat—sneak around in the dark and stink.” The words were louder than she’d intended, but she was scared and didn’t want the brat to know. She forced her hand to hold the beam steady on his puckered, pointy face.

“Take it back,” he said.

She glanced around, but all she saw were shadows. Why didn’t Cody answer? Had he dropped off his flashlight? Where were Bruce and those other kids?

“Why are you guys playing games?” she said, then aimed the beam behind Rochester. “Oh, I get it. Bruce, you’re such a dork.”

Rochester fell for the trick and turned to look behind him, and she glimpsed a dark depression in the flesh of his neck. It was an unbroken line, with mottled skin around it. As if....

No. He couldn’t have hanged himself, because then he’d be dead. Just like Bruce. And I don’t want them to be dead.

Because then I’d have to believe all this crap.

Maybe Cody was in on it, using her as bait in some bizarre research project. He could have set up his audio recorders, decimeters, and other devices beforehand, then tried to scare her so he could measure her skin temperature, pulse rate, electromagnetic energy, and screams.

Probably even the kiss had been part of it, causing her to let guard down, make her vulnerable to his suggestions of demons.

Now it made sense. Bruce grabbing her book, leading her on a chase, Cody conveniently guiding her to the attic, planting ghost stories in her ear—

Christ, my first serious crush had to be wasted on an asshole.

The Future of Horror. If this is what the future looks like, then put me down with Emily Dee in the churchyard sleep. I’ll die a virgin, and the sooner the better.

She had to admit, though, Rochester’s make-up job was pretty decent. He turned back to face her again, and she studied the black folds of skin beneath his eyes and the pale cheeks. Even the fey little Victorian get-up had the air of stage costume.

The kid was a pretty good actor, but ten-year-old boys already had a lot of creepiness inside and it wouldn’t take much to bring it to the surface. Like maybe fifty bucks and the promise of a good laugh. Or a credit on Future’s Web site.

She reached out, planning to push him back into the fluffy shredded paper that served as insulation. With any luck, he’d hit a soft spot in the ceiling and tumble through to the third floor. The flashlight dipped with the movement, and she lost her balance. She grabbed where his shirt should be, but her hand went cold and she clutched air as she fell.

“Cody!” The cry was a mixture of anger and fear, because now she was the one falling toward the insulation.

The attic was a kaleidoscopic swirl of dust, brown rafters, and white, plastic-coated wires as she fell. Just before she landed, she saw Dorrie peeking from behind the brick chimney. Then she was choking in the shredded paper, the flashlight lost.

Something creaked beneath her and she pictured the gypsum ceiling and its ancient cracks. If she struggled, the ceiling might give way. She’d probably survive, but it wouldn’t be fun, and it was hard to get revenge from a hospital bed.

She coughed, her throat tickled by the thick dust. “Cody, you bastard.”

“Over here.” His voice was strained and far away. How had he reached the other end of the attic, navigating the maze of support posts and wires in the dark?

From somewhere to her left, the flashlight cast a muted glow, as if it were half buried. She had the sensation of swimming as she fought for traction, and for a horrible second, she imagined she was in a dark morass of thick liquid that would suck her down and into... into what?

The hotel.

The hotel will pull you down and drown you and keep your bones inside forever, and no one will ever know where you went.

“No one will ever know,” Bruce whispered from the darkness.

As her knuckles struck a floor joist, she yelped in pain. But the pain was solid, as was the wood, and she clung to it, dragging herself to her knees. Her vision was bleary from the paper as she squinted into the depths of the attic. “Cody?”

“Run for it,” he said, and she once again wondered if he was playing with her. He sounded scared himself, and she recalled the wistful tremor in his voice as he’d said “Multiples.”

She didn’t know about demons, but three kids were sure as hell tormenting her. She gained purchase on the floor joist and spied her flashlight nestled in the insulation ten feet away. Crawling the beam so that she didn’t test the ceiling, she recovered the flashlight and pointed it toward Cody’s voice.

He hovered in the air, his face stricken and pale, mouth open and gasping for breath. His hands were at his throat, and his legs flailed six inches above the attic floor. He made a rough sucking sound, as if swallowing rocks, and it was then she saw the wire descending from the roof.

Kendra shouted his name and ran toward him, somehow managing not to trip. Rochester taunted her from the shadows: “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

“The old gray goose is dead,” Dorrie sang in an off-key, nasally whine.

By the time Kendra reached Cody, his eyes were bulging and glazed. She ducked between his legs and placed her head between his thighs, lifting him. Maybe that would buy him time....

Unless this was part of the act, and cameras were trying to capture his spirit leaving his body. A suicide video would really rack up the Web hits.

But she couldn’t think about that now, or the warmth of his crotch against her neck, or the laughter of the hidden children. She was working on instinct, and if she could release the tension on the wire, then Cody could untangle it.

But he didn’t kick her away, and air whistled into his lungs as his windpipe opened above her and he fought for breath. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but his arms were busy, and then his full weight was on her and they both fell. She thumped her hand again—luckily not her drawing hand—and the gypsum groaned beneath them. Cody rolled over, still wheezing, and she shined the light on his face.

“Thanks,” he croaked, and she sent the beam to the wire that descended from the roof. The wire was still swaying, two bright points of copper protruding from its frayed end.

“Is this for real?” she asked, sensing the small forms of the children looming around.

He nodded, grabbed her hand, and gave it a weak squeeze.