A Whispered Darkness (12 page)

“What the hell is going on?”

“We were kind of hoping you could help figure it out,” I said. A second later, the basement stairs creaked as if someone walked up to the door. Haven rose, took a step toward it, and I grabbed his leg.

“No.” The knob rattled, and my fear faded and changed to anger. Grant stood to the side, his face white as a sheet. I got to my feet and moved in front of Haven. “I said enough! You’ve made a point.”

Haven hovered over my shoulder, his hands curling over my biceps. My entire body trembled as everything suddenly went silent. Triumph thrummed through my body.

I turned with a smile on my lips. The thing on the other side slammed into the door. I jumped back with a squeak into Haven’s arms. The wood rattled and moved as if a wild beast clawed at the other side.

“I don’t think it worked,” he whispered.

“No shit.” I clung to Haven.

His hands moved around my back and held me tighter. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to talk to it.”

I closed my eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Are you going to tell me why it bothers you so much?”

“You mean beyond the whole, ‘I’m talking to the dead’ part?” I paused. “Maybe. Someday,” I turned to focus on the door.

I sucked in air, releasing it slowly. The door shook, the thudding more intense, with the knob rattling until I thought it would snap off. I concentrated, my whole gaze on the door, then my attention turned to the darkness behind it. Opening a little crack in the walls around my mind, and I sensed the madness and violence of the spirit. Another nudge of the mental door and I reached out.

Calm enveloped me. I could do this. I would do it.

“That’s enough.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but the pounding lessened. I poured more of my will into the power I sent to surround the spirit. “I said, stop it. Go back where you came from. There is no place for you here.”

You have no idea what this place is. What we are. What you will be.

“I don’t care. Right now, you need to leave.”

The spirit pushed back, but I was ready for it. In the back of my mind, I was aware of Grant and Haven, but they were static. My energy stayed intent on forcing the ghost down to wherever it had come from.

When it finally gave in, there was a screech, like fingernails on a chalkboard. Everyone put their hands over their ears. When it was over, the presence had receded back into whatever dark corner it had come from.

“Wow. Did you do that?” Grant stared at me as if I sprouted wings.

I nodded.

“Sweet!” He put up his hand for a high-five. “You’re our own personal ghost buster!”

I smiled, but shook my head. “No. He’s gone for now, but it’s not permanent.”

“Hey, anything is better than nothing,” Grant said.

He moved around us to the fridge. His eyes shifted between Haven and me. Until then, I hadn’t noticed how close I still stood. With a sigh, I stepped away. Haven’s hand caught at mine.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I opened my mouth to say yes, and then closed it. Physically, everything was still there. My body throbbed everywhere the stairs had hit me; my leg ached. I’d be a mess of bruises in the morning. Mentally, I felt…
stronger
. It had been a long time since I could say so.

“I’m okay, I think.”

Haven raised a brow. “You think?”

“I’m going to be black and blue, and I’m freaking out a little, but yeah.” I smiled at him. “I think so.”

He smiled back, but there were shadows in his eyes. “Good. And please, any time you need me—either of you—call. I’ll come.”

I squeezed Haven’s hands in mine. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Grant slid a pop across the counter to me, then one to Haven. “Yeah, thanks. I know tonight might have been short notice, but it was either you or Bryan.” He made a face and took a swig of cola. “And I really dislike him.”

Haven popped the tab on the can. “Yes, well, I’m biased, but I don’t think he’d have been much use. Unless you count whipping out one of his instruments and turning on a camcorder helpful.”

“What?”

Haven’s gaze moved between Grant and me. “You don’t know?”

I nodded. “I’d forgotten.”

Grant perked. “Know what?”

Haven sipped the drink, then said, “Bryan is a major part of the county’s only paranormal investigative team. He’s been dying to get in this house since he started carrying around EMF detectors and digital recorders in his lunchbox in the sixth grade.”

Grant laughed. “Oh God, what a priceless picture. How did he manage to survive middle school?”

“His parents own a good portion of town. No one dared call him out on his quirks.”

“So he wants to be my friend to get in the house? He didn’t mention that part when we talked.” Anger fizzed in my gut, and I clenched my hands. “What an ass.”

“It gets better,” Haven said. “He’s convinced the Spirit Searchers he can get them in here for an investigation too.”

“Who the hell are they?”

“They’re the group he works with. They’re based a couple counties over. They’ve been featured on a few of those ghost story television shows. When Bryan dreams, he doesn’t do it by halves.”

Grant moved around the island, his eyes on me. My shaking, which had subsided, started again. I didn’t often get angry, but when I did, it wasn’t pretty.

“Don’t take it personal, Sis.”

“Bryan has spent his time making me think I was a horrible person because I rejected him and got upset with him, and the whole time he only spoke to me because he wanted into our house. I think that’s very, very
personal
.”

Grant put a hand on my shoulder. “Claire, you have to chill out.”

I took deep breaths, concentrating on pulling myself together. Haven reached over and took my hand. Now I’d opened myself up and used my gifts again. It made it harder to cut them off. Just like last time, when I did things without knowing I was doing them. When I could have hurt people. I struggled, panting. Panic consumed me.

“Calm down, you’ve got this.” Haven’s voice was soft. I listened with only half my attention. There was something else…

I opened myself, and nearly lost control. Haven’s aura was so brilliant I winced. Grant’s pulsed beside me, worried. The others flickered in the house around us. One stood beyond the closed basement door, a dark, seething mass of black and red. It pulled on my anger, and I saw a thin thread stretched between us. With effort, I cut it off. A howling echoed around us, and I snapped back to myself so fast I almost toppled from my stool.

“There are so many of them,” I whispered. “They’re like leeches. They want us to stay. They
need
us.”

Haven’s hand tightened on mine. “Breathe. It will be okay. You need to focus on breathing. What is going on? I don’t think it’s the ghosts making you panic.”

“I can’t control it sometimes, and it gets difficult…” I bit back any other confessions and squeezed his hand, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. “I’m okay, I promise. It’s just…they’ve never been so obvious before.”

“You’ve never really tried to see them before.” His thumb feathered across the pulse in my wrist. The movement calmed me somehow.

I shook my head. “I’ve seen a few because I couldn’t control it. They wanted me to see. But I haven’t tried to on purpose.”

“You’ve seen more than one?” Grant demanded. Hurt crossed his features. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want you to be any more worried or freaked out. I’m sorry.”

“Can you see them too?” Grant asked.

Haven shook his head. “I get flashes of the past sometimes, but I can’t feel them unless they want me to.”

Grant leaned over and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “You okay?”

I nodded, pulled away my hands, and wiped at the tears leaking from my eyes. “For now.”

I thanked Haven for his help, and conversation fizzled out. The silence around us was awkward. I sighed. “I’ve done a lot of thanking you today.”

Haven smiled. “I’m glad I could help.”

Grant took a seat across from us. “Claire’s pretty easy going. When she gets freaked out, I know things are bad.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Haven offered, running a hand through his hair.

Grant and I answered together, with opposite words. I glared at my brother. I wasn’t going to use Haven as my security blanket. Despite what Grant might think, I had a lot of questions. Of course, my heart agreed with Grant, but I wasn’t giving in so easy.

“It isn’t that I don’t appreciate the offer,” I said. “But Mom works the night shift. You can’t stay all night. What would your grandma say?”

Haven made a face and looked away. “She’s already ticked off I ran out when Grant called. I’ll stay here as long as I can. If I get lucky, she’ll fall asleep before I get back.”

“You’ve gotten in trouble a lot because of me.”

Haven shrugged. “I think it’s worth it. So don’t worry about it.”

I slid from the chair. “How about a movie, and then you can go home. Its Friday, there’s no reason to be up early. Unless you work.”

Haven shook his head. “Not early in the day. Just in the afternoons on the weekends sometimes.”

I could see he was lying. His eyes slid away from mine, and he refused to look at me. Why lie about a weekend job?

“What movie?”

“Can I make a suggestion?” Grant shoved another package of popcorn into the microwave and turned.

“What?”

“Let’s not watch another horror movie.”

I laughed. “Agreed.”

We watched two movies, a pirate movie we’d seen a million times, and an old Disney flick. The longer we sat, the more tired I became. Now that the adrenaline rush was gone, the urge to crawl in bed and sleep consumed me. By the end, my eyelids became too heavy to keep open, and I found myself leaning against Haven’s shoulder.

At some point I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew Haven had me cradled against his chest and was pushing open my bedroom door.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Getting chased by ghosts takes it out of you.”

Haven chuckled softly and sat me down on the bed. My hands automatically curled under the pillows, bringing them closer. A blanket fell over my shoulders, and I was grateful I’d already put on pajamas before my adventure in the basement.

“Where are your headphones?”

I pointed to the nightstand. My limbs were heavy and cumbersome. Haven slid the iPod to me, and then leaned over. “You like the ocean?”

“Mmmm-hmmm. Calms me.”

I didn’t bother putting on the headphones. I pressed the button and flipped the volume up.

Haven’s fingers trailed across my cheek to tuck hair behind my ear. “Me too. Good night, Claire. Sleep well.”

He turned away, and I grabbed at his hand. “Thanks, Haven. You’re almost as good as the ocean.”

Sleep made the room fuzzy, but I think he leaned over and pressed a kiss to my hair before slipping out. A creak caught my attention, and I frowned, cracked open one eye and turned my head.

My closet door silently swung open a few inches. Fatigue kept me from shooting from the bed. With a grunt, I pushed the ear buds into my ears and rolled over. “If you’re gonna eat me in my sleep, get on with it. I’m tired.”

Before the waves covered the noise, I heard the click of the knob as it shut again.

***

When I woke in the morning, the memory of Haven tucking me in brought both a smile and blush to my cheeks. I pushed back the comforter he pulled over me, and swung my legs out of bed. Almost against my will, my attention slid to the closet. The door was closed, and I wondered if I’d dreamed the scene from last night.

“Get a grip.” I checked the clock next to the bed. Almost eleven. He would be here soon, and I still needed a shower and clothes.

My leg ached when I stood. While I wasn’t sure I wanted to look, I had to see. Propping my foot on the edge of the bed, I pulled up my pajama pants. My calf looked like a purple and blue tie-dye shirt.

“Lovely,” I muttered. “Won’t be wearing shorts for a while.”

The handprint, now that the bruises were more pronounced, stood out against my flesh. Definitely didn’t want to explain it to Mom or anyone else. My palms also ached from tripping, and my fingernails looked worse for wear. After a shower and some clothes, I’d have to locate an emery board and make them more presentable.

My cell phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I picked it up. Haven sent a text.

Be there in forty-five minutes. And don’t worry—I’ve got permission to be out this time.

With a giggle, I punched in an “ok” then snagged my robe and headed for the shower. I dressed in jeans and a cute shirt in record time, and was putting on a couple swipes of mascara in the bathroom mirror when I heard the phone rattle on the nightstand, indicating another text message.

Be there in five.

I slid into a pair of ballet flats and grabbed my purse from my desk. When I left, the door to the tower library was open again, the wheelchair in the same position. This time, a silver chain and pendant hung, tangled, from one of the large cracks in the back.

“Not a chance,” I said. My victory the night before fueled my courage. “Offering me jewelry? I’m not stupid. Whatever you want, forget it.”

The wheelchair moved forward again, and I held my breath, stomped to the doorway, and grasped the handle. It was so cold it hurt. I gritted my teeth and yanked hard. For a second, it was like someone pulled against me from the other side. I dropped my purse, wrapped my other hand around it, and tried harder, throwing my weight into it. At the last second, the door released, closing with a bang that echoed around the house. The loss of balance threw me backwards, and I slid across the floor until I felt the edges of the banister against my scalp.

My fear returned, bigger than ever. Whatever lurked in this house was far stronger than me. And knew it. My new confidence wavered and I had to take a deep breath.

Mom’s door opened across the hall, and she stumbled out, squinting and disheveled. “What’s going on?”

I heard footsteps at the bottom of the stairs and Grant call out to me. “Nothing. Go back to bed. Just tripped and took the door with me.”