Awake at Dawn (39 page)

“You didn’t tell her that it was over with Amy?”

“Should I leave?” Trey asked.

“Yes,” her dad answered.

Kylie’s head reeled. She watched Trey go. She heard her mom crying.

Kylie stared at her dad—stepdad. The idea that he’d actually attempted to use her to get her mom gnawed on some very raw nerves. The fact that he’d expected her to update her mom about his relationship status pretty much nuked those nerves.

She pointed at her dad. “Don’t you ever try to use me to get to my mom!”

“I thought—”

“Then stop thinking!” She slammed the door. The house shook. The small glass window in the doorframe shattered. She saw her dad’s startled expression through the broken window before he took off.

She breathed in.

She breathed out.

Then she took the stairs two at a time to check on her mom.

* * *

It took Kylie an hour to convince her mom to go out for pizza again. She’d tried calling Trey hoping to see what was so important that the ghost had sent his message to everyone in the room, but she got no answer. They were in the middle of lunch at the pizza parlor, still not back to their prior jovial mood, when her phone started croaking.

“Oh, honey,” her mom said. “Change that ringtone.” She hugged herself and called out to the waiter, “Can you turn down the air?” Kylie grabbed her cell. There was no call, but an old voice message played.

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“Hi, Kylie. It’s Sara. I’m sorry I had to hang up like that. I … had something I had to take care of. Listen, I really want to see you when you’re home. Please make sure to call me?”

“Who was it?” her mom asked, then lowered her voice. “Your dad?”

“No. A message from Sara.”

Kylie stared at her pizza and got the strangest feeling. “Mom, would you mind if I went to see Sara after lunch?”

* * *

“Hi, Kylie,” Mrs. Jetton said an hour later. “Sara will be thrilled to see you.”

Kylie studied Sara’s mom’s expression. Her eyes looked red and her face pale. The somber mood filling the air ratcheted up Kylie’s concern for her former best friend.

“She’s in her room,” Mrs. Jetton said.

Kylie almost asked what was wrong, but the chill running down her spine prevented her from talking. That short walk from the living room to Sara’s door filled Kylie’s head with dozens of memories. And for some odd reason, those memories brought tears to her eyes.

“You have to save her. You have to save her.”
The ghost’s words vibrated in Kylie’s head. She swallowed and told herself she was overreacting, that everything was fine.

Sara’s door stood ajar and when Kylie saw Sara, Kylie gasped.

Sara looked … awful. So pale that Kylie watched her chest to make sure she was breathing.

Sara opened her eyes. “She told you, didn’t she?” Kylie used both hands to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Told me what?”

“What the doctor … If she didn’t … why are you crying?”

“Happy to see you.” She tried to smile.

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“You always were a lousy liar.” Sara pulled the covers up. “Mom, can you please turn down the air? I’m freezing in here.”

“Honey, I already did,” her mom called from the living room. “I phoned the electrician. Something’s wrong with the AC again.” A photo album on Sara’s bedside table plopped to the floor.

Kylie picked it up. She wasn’t surprised when she saw the face staring up from the album. Then she looked at the foot of Sara’s bed at the same spirit of the woman. She’d lost the spaghetti and the bloodstained gown, but her expression was just as dire as before.

“Who is this?” Kylie passed her finger over the face. Sara leaned over to see. It appeared to hurt her to move. “My grandma. She died when I was four. Of the same kind of cancer. Isn’t that freaky?” Cancer. The word brought another gasp to Kylie’s lungs and she had to work to keep her lips from trembling. She looked at the spirit. “I can’t fix this.”

“Yes, you can!”

“Can’t fix what?” Sara looked at the album as if Kylie had broken something.

“Nothing.” Kylie sat down beside Sara. The memories of them on this bed, sharing secrets, laughing at the stupidest things, filled Kylie’s head.

She swallowed emotions that threatened to overpower her. “Do you remember when we laid here and practiced kissing mirrors before the sixth-grade dance?”

Sara smiled. “Yeah.” She leaned on the pillow and closed her eyes. Her long brown hair looked thinner and it lacked its normal luster. The silence grew longer. Sadder.

Kylie stroked Sara’s arm. “What did the doctor say?” Chapter Thirty-two

Sara opened her eyes. “The oncologist said he’d try to get me into experi-mental trials, but … he thinks it’s too late.” A sheen of tears filled Sara’s eyes. “Mom says I’m doing it, but…” Sara swallowed. “I don’t want to die.” Her lips trembled. “But I can still hear my mom saying dozens of times that if
she
ever got cancer, she’d rather die than go through what they put her mama through. She said they butchered her mom. I don’t want to deal with that. The one surgery was bad enough.” Kylie recalled the dreams of knives coming at her. She looked at Sara’s abdomen. “When did you have surgery?”

“Last week,” Sara answered. “I’d missed so many periods. The clinic doctor felt a mass when she was checking me. Two days later, I was in the hospital.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

Sara bit down on her lip. “I did. I didn’t tell you that I thought I had cancer, but…”

Guilt filled Kylie’s chest. The ghost, Sara’s grandmother, had been trying to get her to listen to the message. The same message she had played earlier.

“Couldn’t they take it out?”

Sara shook her head. “There’s too much. It’s everywhere.” The ache in Kylie’s heart doubled. She recalled Trey’s message that had been sent to everyone at the B&B. Why had the ghost sent Trey’s message? “Trey?”

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Sara looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean it to happen. I’d drunk too much. He’d drunk too much.”

“What?” Kylie asked.

Sara looked up. “Shit. He hasn’t told you, has he?” It took only a second to digest what Sara said—it took less time for Kylie to know it wasn’t important.

“I asked him to tell you because I couldn’t stand it. He promised he would.”

“He tried. I didn’t take his calls. But I don’t care, Sara.” She took Sara’s hand in hers and squeezed. “Trey and I are … so over. You’re what’s important.”

Another tear crawled down Sara’s pale cheek. “You’re not just saying that because I’m dying, are you?” Sara tried to make it a joke.

Kylie didn’t laugh. “No.”

Sara pulled her hand out of Kylie’s. “You’re hot.”

“You can do it.”
The ghost’s voice came right behind Kylie’s ear.
“It’s
your touch.”

Kylie looked back at the spirit. “Do you mean … like Helen?”

“What?” Sara asked.

Kylie continued to stare at the ghost.

“Do it,”
the ghost said.
“Please. Heal her. Before it’s too late.”

“I don’t know how,” Kylie muttered.

“Am I hallucinating or are you talking to yourself?” Sara asked. “I mean, I am on some pretty good drugs right now.” Kylie looked back at Sara. “No.” She felt the cold of the ghost inch closer.

“No, I’m not hallucinating or no, you’re not talking to yourself?”

“No to both.” Kylie tried to think. Could she really do this?

She looked down at Sara’s grandmother’s picture. “What’s her name?”

“Fanny Mildred Bogart.” Sara laughed. “I’m glad Mama didn’t name me after her.” It obviously hurt Sara to laugh because she moaned and 331/375

dropped back on the pillow. When she opened her eyes, she stared at the photograph. “Do you want to hear something crazy?”

“What?” Kylie asked, but she thought she already knew what Sara was going to say.

“Sometimes I think she’s here.”

“She
is
here.” Kylie took Sara’s hand again and struggled to know how much to tell Sara.

Sara chuckled. “Now you believe in ghosts, huh?”

“Yup.” Kylie inhaled. “You’d be surprised what I believe in now.”

“Like what?” Sara asked.

“Like miracles.” Kylie looked at Fanny.

“I could use a miracle.” Sara smiled and tried to pull her hand away.

“Why is your hand so hot?”

“How do I do this?” Kylie asked the spirit, holding on to Sara’s hand.

“Do what?” Sara asked, her voice sounding as tired as her eyes looked.

“I don’t know how, I just know that you have the power.”

“That’s not helpful,” Kylie responded.

“You’re talking to yourself again,” Sara said, but she’d stopped trying to pull her hand away.

“I know,” Kylie told Sara. Then Kylie remembered how Helen, the fairy who had the ability to heal, had touched Kylie’s head when she’d checked her for tumors. And Helen had said that’s what she’d done when she had healed her sister’s cancer.

Dropping Sara’s hand, Kylie scooted up to the head of Sara’s bed. She brushed Sara’s bangs from her brow. Then she reached over with her other hand and touched both of Sara’s temples.

“What are you doing?” Sara asked, looking at Kylie and making a funny face.

“Trying to help you relax,” Kylie said, knowing it sounded lame.

“Okay, this camp has turned you weird,” Sara said, and started to reach up to move Kylie’s hands.

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“Tell her that your mom did this for you when you weren’t feeling
good,”
Fanny said.

Good idea.
“My mom used to do this to me, and it really made me feel good.”

Sara dropped her hands down. “Okay, but if you try to kiss me, I’m screaming for my mom.” Sara giggled.

“What? I’m not your type?” Kylie asked, and giggled, and then she tried to concentrate on positive healing thoughts.

* * *

It was after nine that night when Kylie left Sara’s house. When she’d been there for about an hour, Kylie had slipped into the bathroom and called her mom. She cried when she told her mom about Sara’s cancer. Her mom said she’d call Mrs. Jetton tomorrow and that Kylie should stay with Sara as long as she wanted but to call before she started home.

Kylie didn’t leave until Sara went to sleep. She had forgotten to call her mom, but since she lived close, she didn’t worry.

Her neighborhood was dark, no streetlights—no lights on in the houses, either. A power outage, Kylie told herself as she fought an urgent sense of unease.

And that’s when it happened.

Something large hit the windshield of her car.

Chapter Thirty-three

Kylie’s heart stopped when she saw the body against her windshield. She slammed her foot on the brakes. Oh, my God. She must have hit someone.

Then she saw the face staring through the windshield at her. The rogue, the vampire who’d killed those girls in Fallen. But how? Hadn’t he been “dealt” with?

She accelerated and swerved, hoping to throw him off the car. It didn’t work. Clinging to the car like a spider, he inched over, smiled, and punched his fist through her car window. Glass shards went everywhere.

She screamed and pushed the accelerator harder. He reached for her. His fist wrapped around her neck and squeezed. She couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t move. Fireworks exploded before her eyes. Her last thought was of Sara. She hoped she’d healed her. One of them should live.

* * *

When Kylie woke up, she sat up on a cold, heavy wooden chair. Her head and throat throbbed. She went to rub her temple, but her hands wouldn’t move. She heard a clinking noise, metal against metal. Chains?

She pried open her eyes but saw nothing. Pitch-blackness surrounded her.

Shuffling her feet, she heard chains rattling again. Aware of cold metal bracelets against her ankles and wrists, her mind started rationalizing.

Her arms and legs were bound with some kind of metal chain. She attempted to shift her limbs to test her theory.

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Yup. Chains.

She hated being right, too. The memory of the rogue filled her head. A scream lodged in her throat.

She blinked and hoped to see something but only blackness invaded her senses. She inhaled. The scent of dirt and concrete filled her nose.

The lightest intake of air reached her ears. “Is someone here?” No answer came. “I know someone’s here,” she said. Trying to test her strength, she pulled at the chains.

She was barely able to move.

“So the rumors of your strength were just rumors.” A raspy male voice echoed in the darkness.

“Release me!” Panicked even more, she fought against the chains that bound her, but she couldn’t free herself.

“You shouldn’t struggle, Kylie. You’ll spend your energy uselessly.

Save your strength to think. To make wise choices.” Forcing herself to calm down, she listened. The voice echoed in the room. She didn’t recognize it. She remembered the rogue vampire who had crashed through her windshield. Panic clawed at her raw, dry throat.

She tried to remember what his voice had sounded like. She could hear him in her head, but it hadn’t been the same. Had it?

“What kind of choices?” she asked.

“We have much to talk about.” Definitely not the rogue and not a voice she’d heard before. It sounded … rusty, almost … old. From the way the voice bounced around the room, Kylie sensed she was in a tunnel.

“Where am I? Who are you?” She would have asked what he wanted, but she was too scared to know. Face it, when you find yourself in chains in a pitch-black room, tea and scones weren’t usually going to be offered.

The only noise she heard was the sound of her own breathing and the lighter short breaths from the man with the rusty voice. Her mind shot to the visions with the ghosts and she wondered if she had misread them.

Was Kylie the person who would be tortured?

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Taking a deep breath, she pulled against the chains. She couldn’t free herself. Where was her strength? “What do we have to talk about?” she asked.

The light flickered on with blinding brightness. She blinked and on the second rise of her eyelids she saw him. He wore a strange robe, like a monk. His skin was wrinkled, leathered. She tightened her eyebrows and saw his brain pattern. As she suspected, vampire.