Daughters of Silence (12 page)

His voice trailed off. For a moment, his eyes went completely blank. Frighteningly blank. Rob's eyes closed and his face went pale.

“Rob? Are you all right?” Jenna asked him. Maybe he'd been hurt worse then he'd told her.

Then he blinked. He opened his eyes and his color seemed to return. He looked like the same Rob she'd come to know.

Still, something cold and frightened lurked in her mind. And she'd never felt so alone.

“... As good as new,” he finished, as if there hadn't been any break at all.

Jenna got to her feet. “I have to go home now,” she told him. “The Sheridans will be frantic with worry.”

He started to get up with her. Then his face twisted with pain, and he sank back into his chair. Weariness clouded his eyes. “You can find your way home all right?”

“Of course,” she assured him.

She left the cottage, closing the door behind her. Her mind spun with questions as she made her way into the woods.

Wind gusted through the branches overhead. And then she heard the sound that had haunted the edges of her dreams. The sound she'd once thought a figment of her imagination, the sound she dreaded more than anything in the world.

The sound of wings.

Jenna looked up, terrified at what she might see.

J
enna shrank back against the nearest tree trunk. She squinted into the darkness. She felt the rain on her face and heard her own ragged breathing.

And then, something else. The wings. Beating. Beating. Beating. Coming closer with each beat of her pounding heart.

Not an owl this time.

The trees loomed threateningly overhead. Even the dripping sky seemed to hang lower. Mist curled up from the ground, touching her skin with its clammy touch.

And still the wings came. Closer. Closer.

“No,” she gasped. “No!”

Hurling herself forward, she raced headlong through the trees. Every crashing step shook her to her bones. Every breath felt like fire in her lungs. Still,
she heard the sound up above. Somewhere in the dark sky. Swooping toward her. Right overhead.

Jenna ran on and on, not daring to glance up or even over her shoulder. Her wet skirts clung to her legs, their weight dragging at her. Sobbing with terror, she struggled forward. She had no idea which way she was going. Away. That was the important thing.

Spotting a light ahead, she turned in that direction. Maybe she'd come to a house. Maybe she had run right to the Sheridans' without realizing it.

Wings flapped above her head.

With a strangled cry, she flung herself forward. She crashed through the bushes and rolled out into a clearing. It had her now. Jenna squeezed her eyes closed. She sensed an immense dark shadow moving her. She heard the beating sound of huge wings.

So close now, she could feel the air stirred by their motion.

She curled her body into a small, tight ball of terror as she prepared herself for the worst.

Then the sound stopped.

Jenna lay still for a moment. She took a deep breath. She suddenly realized she remained unharmed.

Untouched.

But it had been right on her! It could have gotten her at any time. Had it simply flown past? Slowly, hesitantly, she opened her eyes.

And then she knew why she'd been spared.

She didn't lie in a clearing. She hadn't reached the Sheridans' house. Or any other.

She'd ended up in the cemetery.

In front of the Fear crypt.

She hadn't run to safety. She'd run straight into
danger. No, she thought as despair chilled her heart, she'd been
led
there.

The seconds ticked by with incredible slowness. Finally, she dared to move. Slowly, hesitantly, she rose to her feet.

She glanced over her shoulder at the cemetery gate. Maybe she could make it before …

Creak!

Her heart clenched. That noise! It sounded like stone grinding against stone. Terror swept over her, darker and stronger than anything she'd ever felt before. She shrank back against the nearest tree. Pressing her cheek against the rough, wet bark.

Creak!

She tried not to look at the stone angel perched above the crypt. But her gaze felt irresistibly drawn to it.

Droplets hung from the stone angel's wings. Each one shone like a blue-white diamond in the unearthly glow.

Jenna pressed closer to the sheltering trunk. Then she felt a change in the bark beneath her hand. It was more than wet. It was
slimy.
Pulling away, she started to wipe her hands. That was when she saw the red stain all over her palms. Then, right before her horrified gaze, more slick, warm liquid oozed out from the cracks in the bark.

She glanced down, and saw a hundred tiny red stains on her gown. Automatically, she looked up. More drops fell. They ran into her mouth, and tasted coppery and awful.

She scrubbed her mouth with her sleeve. Then a realization hit her.

The trees were bleeding!

J
enna reeled away from the tree. Blood spattered her gown, her face, her arms. She wanted to scream. Instead, she pressed both hands over her mouth.

If she made a sound, someone …
something
might hear.

The air felt charged, as if lightning might strike at any moment.

But lightning could never charge the air with this eerie energy. Jenna knew it instinctively.

Something more gathered here. Something wicked and vile.

She could feel it watching her. Watching. And waiting. Its evil vibrations pulsed in the air.

Every moment, it grew stronger.

She tried to run, but her legs felt wooden. Lifeless.

She couldn't move.

She noticed a faint movement on the front wall of
the mausoleum. A crack. Even as her mind tried to make sense of that, the crack widened.

No, not widened, she realized. Darkened.

Something thick and red welled up from the crack. More cracks appeared. Drops became rivulets, which joined to become streams. Soon the walls were running wet with blood.

Blood. Blood dripping from the trees, blood running from the crypt to form a glistening black pool just in front of the door. The stone angel's reflection shimmered in its depths.

Whirling, Jenna raced for the gate. She dodged through the headstones, slipping, sliding, clutching at anything she could to keep her balance.

Behind her, something rustled.

She cast a glance over her shoulder. The mist had risen higher, almost obscuring the headstones. Below it, running along the ground, was another kind of mist.

A black mist. Shadows.

They were coming after her. She could see dark tendrils coiling along the ground, swallowing her footprints.

A branch snagged her skirt and she stumbled. She hit the hard ground face first.

“No,” she gasped. “Please, no!”

She scrambled onto her hands and knees. With a quick glance she saw the black mist closing in on her. It came boiling over the top of a headstone just a few yards away. The putrid smell of rot and waste washed over her. She gagged and coughed, forcing herself to crawl forward. Inch by inch.

A few moments more, and it would reach her. Cover her. Consume her.

Jenna staggered to her feet. But the moment she tried to take a step, she found herself still caught by the branch. Bending, she groped to free herself.

But her fingertips didn't feel a tree branch clinging to her skirt. She touched something cold and very smooth. Jenna felt the hair rise up on the nape of her neck.

She tugged at her skirt and finally looked down.

And saw the bony, white skeleton hand that held her in its grasp.

S
obbing in terror, Jenna yanked hard on her skirt. Up ahead, she could see the black mist quickly oozing toward her.

Terror surged through her. With a gasp, she tore loose from the bony fingers and hurled herself backward.

Panting and clawing at the soft dirt, Jenna scrambled away on hands and knees. Then, leaping to her feet, she raced toward the cemetery gate. She didn't know why, but she felt sure that if she could just get past that entrance, she would be safe.

The cemetery gate loomed up eerily in the fog. Moisture glistened on the iron curlicues and dripped from the arch. Jenna hurled herself toward it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a single thick tendril of black mist snake toward her.

To drag her back.

With a desperate lunge, she flung herself at the gate. The doors crashed open. She hurtled through, landing hard on the road beyond. Gasping, she leaped up and slammed the gate closed.

Just in time, she thought, as the squirming blackness reached the gate. Almost overwhelmed by the awful stench of it, she staggered backward.

The shadows oozed and squirmed against the gate. But they didn't come past it. Some invisible barrier kept them imprisoned in the graveyard.

“I made it!” she gasped, hardly believing her luck.

Whirling around, she headed toward home.

She had to help Hallie.

♦ ♦ ♦

It started to rain again, a steady downpour that soaked Jenna to the skin. Lightning slashed across the clouds. She hurried toward the back of the Sheridans' house, anxious to get inside before the next thunderstorm hit.

But even in the midst of the storm, everything looked so peaceful here. Normal. It seemed impossible to Jenna that horror thrived so near.

“Nothing seems to be impossible in Shadyside,” she muttered under her breath.

She started to open the door. What would she tell the Sheridans? she wondered. They must be frantic, wondering where she'd disappeared to.

As she hesitated in the doorway, she caught sight of a pale figure, flitting through the trees behind the house. Her heart stopped.

For a moment, she expected to see the stone angel come flapping out of the woods, all fangs and claws and staring, empty eyes.

Lightning flashed, and Jenna glimpsed a mass of blond curls around the figure's head.

Hallie.

Clad only in her nightgown, she stumbled around the yard in the storm.

Jenna ran toward her. “Hallie!” she called.

Maybe she's walking in her sleep, Jenna thought. But an even worse thought lanced through her mind: Or maybe the Fears are calling her.

The other girl flashed a glance over her shoulder. Then she started to run. Dressed in only the long white gown, Jenna thought she looked like a ghost flitting through the trees.

“Hallie!” Jenna cried again. “Wait for me!”

The rain pelted down hard now, almost blinding Jenna. She pushed herself to keep up with Hallie's swiftly moving shape. Sick with horror, she realized where Hallie was going.

The cemetery.

“No, Hallie!” she shouted. “You can't go there. Stop! Listen to me.
Hallieeee!”

The wind caught Jenna's words and tossed them back at her. Hallie swiftly flew ahead of her, as though she'd become part of the storm.

Jenna heard a huge bolt of lightning crackle overhead and in the sudden flash of light, she caught a glimpse of the cemetery gates. The misty shadows were gone. But Jenna knew they still waited. Watched and waited, there in the graveyard.