One Hundred Candles [2] (2 page)

“What’d Marcus have to say?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Nothing much. He says we’ll be amazed by Zelden’s process.”

“Unlikely.” She looked around. “Where are they? I want to get this thing over with so we can go somewhere that actually has heat.”

The group returned ten minutes later, Zelden leading the way. “Are we ready?” he asked Marcus.

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well, then. May I have everyone gather around the candles?”

He wasn’t really asking, I thought, as I lowered myself onto the ice-cold cement floor. Zelden was sitting on a pillow, of course. We formed a small circle with a stout white candle sitting directly in front of each one of us, but before we could begin, Zelden rearranged us so that Mom was on his left and Annalise was on his right. Dad looked less than pleased, but Mom shot him a glance before he could complain. We joined hands. Shane and Marcus stood behind us with their cameras.

“Close your eyes and breathe deeply,” Zelden instructed in a melodic, soothing voice. “Allow yourself to feel the energy surrounding us, and know that the candle in front of you will keep you from harm.”

I could almost feel Dad’s disbelief as I held his hand. One small candle couldn’t even keep us warm, much less safe, and the only thing I could feel was the cold seeping through my thick coat and Lincoln High sweatshirt.

Minutes passed. Zelden remained quiet, his eyes closed. The strange silence was beginning to become uncomfortable, and I was keenly aware of the wind howling outside and the hard iciness of the floor beneath me. It would have been polite, I thought, if Zelden had brought cushy pillows for all of us to sit on, but I knew his formal manners were just part of an act. My parents had taught me that true courtesy meant making sure the people around you were comfortable, a concept that was clearly beyond Zelden’s comprehension.

I was squirming a little in a useless attempt to get more comfy when I heard the moaning. I stiffened, and Dad squeezed my hand more tightly. I opened my eyes. The low, steady sound was coming from Zelden. His head was tilted back, his mouth gaping. Everyone’s eyes were open now. We watched as Zelden swayed his head from side to side as if fighting with something. His moaning became more guttural, almost like a growl, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Who dares disturb my sanctuary?” Zelden’s voice was deep and menacing, and although I thought it was creepy, it was nowhere near “otherworldly,” as Marcus had predicted.

“Who are you?” Mom asked.

“I am the Guardian of the Gate.”

“The gate to where?”

Zelden groaned and writhed some more. Dad tensed his grip on my hand, and when I looked over at him, I saw that his lips were pursed in an attempt to keep from laughing. I had to look away quickly so I wouldn’t catch a case of the giggles, as well.

“I guard the entrance to another realm, a place of pain, a continent of evil.”

Dad coughed. I knew he was trying hard to keep from bursting with laughter. I also knew it wasn’t really working. He was going to lose it and ruin our chances of filming some decent footage inside the asylum. I dug my nails into his palm, hoping that a pinch of pain would keep him from falling apart. Mom glanced at us and figured out pretty fast that she needed to move things along more quickly.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“I am here to prevent souls from moving on.”

“How many souls reside in this place?”

“Thousands.”

“Why are you keeping them here?”

“I keep them here because I can.”

“Are you a demon?”

“Yes.”

Mom was asking her questions in machine-gun style, firing a new one before Zelden could elaborate on his answers. Dad coughed again, I squeezed his hand, and Zelden, who perhaps sensed that we weren’t playing the game by his rules, began to writhe some more. He roared and rocked back and forth as if trying to rid himself of something. After a few more dramatic convulsions, he slumped forward, careful to make sure his head rested on his hands. He was silent and still. We sat there, waiting for him to do something else.

“Dr. Zelden?” Marcus was still filming, but he sounded genuinely concerned about his boss. “Dr. Zelden? Are you okay?”

Zelden abruptly sat up, gasping for breath. He looked around at us. “What happened?”

“You made contact, sir,” Marcus said. His voice was tinged with admiration.

Dad stood up. He was coughing hard and trying to conceal his smile with his hand. “Just need some air,” he sputtered as he practically ran to the door.

“Yeah, me, too.” Shane carefully set down his camera. “That was, uh, intense.”

We could hear their footsteps as Dad and Shane scurried down the stairs, the creak of the heavy front door and then the howl of their laughter as they stood outside. Mom cleared her throat and turned to Zelden.

“Do you remember anything?”

I knew she was just trying to be kind, but Zelden seemed to think that she believed his show. He sat up straighter, adjusted his collar and adopted his professional air.

“No, I’m afraid not. Once I give myself over to the other side, my mind goes blank.”

“You said you were a demon,” Annalise said. She was nearly shouting, trying to drown out the laughter still coming from outside.

Zelden nodded. “I suspected as much. Demons often claim places like this as their own. Here, they have access to many trapped souls.” He turned to Marcus. “We will need to perform a cleansing ceremony. Gather what we need from the trunk.”

Marcus flicked off his camera and left. I blew out the candles while Mom and Annalise talked with Zelden. When Dad and Shane returned from their laughing fit, Mom glared while Zelden completely ignored them.

Dad clapped his hands together. “So. What’s next?”

“We’re going to participate in a cleansing ceremony,” Mom informed him.

“Sounds great. What can we do to help?”

“You can follow us,” Zelden said stiffly. He turned to me. “Wait here. Inform Marcus that we will be setting up in the first-floor kitchen. I believe it may function as a portal to the other realm.”

“The demons crawl out of the oven,” Annalise whispered to me as she passed.

I looked at Mom. She nodded at me, so I stood where I was while the others went downstairs. After they left I gathered up the candles and placed them in the cardboard box I had seen Marcus remove them from. I heard the front door open and the echo of footsteps as Marcus hurried up the stairs.

“Where is everyone?” He sounded panicked.

“Kitchen. Don’t worry, I’ll help you with the rest of the stuff and then we can join them.”

Marcus frowned. “I’m not supposed to let anyone near Dr. Zelden’s equipment.”

I hoisted the box of candles in my arms. “Trust me, I’ve handled more sophisticated gear than this.”

I began making my way to the door. I was walking past Marcus when my shoulder accidentally brushed against his. Before I could take another step I felt an intense pressure on my arm.

“Ow!” I dropped the box, sending the candles flying across the floor. Marcus was gripping my arm. It felt like he was trying to push his fingers all the way through my flesh. I was simply startled at first, but that feeling almost immediately gave way to panic as the pain in my arm intensified.

“You have pushed back the curtain too far,” Marcus said.

Only, it wasn’t really Marcus. A voice was coming from his mouth, but it wasn’t his voice. In fact, my first thought was that it wasn’t even a
human
voice. It wasn’t low and deep, like Zelden’s idea of how a demon should sound. Instead, it was something between a hiss and a whisper, neither male nor female.

It was, quite simply, otherworldly.

And not a good world.

I tried to pull away. Marcus’s gaze was fixed on me, but his eyes looked strange, like the blackness of his pupils had spread and swallowed the rest of his eyeballs. I tried to pull away, but his grip was cement. I knew if he squeezed any harder, my arm would break.

“Who are you?” I croaked. The pain was making me dizzy.

“I am the Watcher.”

I knew I needed to scream. If I was loud enough, I was sure the sound would reach my parents in the kitchen. My legs gave out and I sank to the floor. Marcus was still clenching my arm, but now he was slowly twisting it as he dug his fingers into my flesh. I was fairly certain that the sensation was similar to getting shot in the arm. His fingers were five hot bullets.

“You have pushed back the curtain too far,” Marcus repeated. “There is a price to be paid.”

I tried screaming. I opened my mouth, but I was only able to gasp in pain. Black spots whirled in front of my eyes. With my free hand, I groped around the floor for something, anything. My hand closed around the fat base of one of the candles.

“Time is against you. You must pay,” Marcus said. “You have pushed…”

I slammed the candle into his cheek. He flinched, and his grip on me loosened. The color immediately began to return to his eyes. I yanked my arm free and dragged myself out of his reach, cradling my throbbing arm in my lap.

“What happened?” he asked, looking dazed.

“Who are you?” I demanded as I tried to suck in oxygen.

Marcus looked around as if he had no idea where he was. “What’s going on?”

I felt sick from the pain in my arm. “You might want to cover your ears.”

“What? Why?”

“Nothing personal,” I said, taking a deep breath. “But I’m going to start screaming now.”

two

I took my time walking down the hill to Avery’s house. I was happy to be home after two weeks away, to return to the warm familiarity of our neighborhood. It was a young subdivision filled with nearly identical two-story houses colored in varying shades of beige siding. Every yard boasted exactly one tree, every driveway held two cars. I smiled as I approached Avery’s house, with its narrow porch and tall topiaries.

She flung the door open before I could ring the doorbell. “You’re back!” she squealed. Her wide smile quickly dissolved when she saw my arm. “What happened?”

I gave her a careful hug. “It’s a long story. Let’s go upstairs.”

We went to her room, a calm oasis of perfectly matching furniture and pale pink walls. I sat down on her bed while she grabbed a floor pillow.

“Tell me everything,” she said as she pulled her long blond hair back into a ponytail and sat cross-legged on the pink carpet.

I looked down at my arm, which was swaddled in a navy-blue sling. “Would you believe me if I told you that this is the result of a paranormal problem?”

“Yes.” Avery was one of the few people in my life who knew nearly everything about my parents and the strange things that sometimes occurred as a result of their chosen profession. “Of course I believe you. Now, start from the beginning.”

I began with Lake Sanitarium and Zelden’s little performance. When I got to the attack, I had to pause. Describing the way Marcus had pulled and twisted my arm brought back a memory of pain so real I could almost feel it. Avery listened, her brow furrowed.

“What happened afterwards?” she asked.

“It was chaotic,” I said, remembering how my mother had appeared in the doorway before I had finished screaming. She must have flown up the stairs. “I thought Dad and Shane were going to murder Marcus.”

I explained that there’s not much you can do after being involved in an otherworldly attack, particularly when your assailant has no recollection of the event. I had spent the rest of Christmas Day in the hospital having my arm x-rayed and enduring a hundred questions from concerned nurses who kept eyeing Dad as if he were the culprit. I’d probably think that, too, if I was an outsider looking in. Dad was a wreck. He was convinced that Marcus had assaulted me in some strange defense of his boss’s honor.

“I knew Zelden had it out for me,” Dad muttered as he paced the emergency room. “I just had no idea he would send his assistant after one of my daughters.”

“It wasn’t him,” I protested. “It was something inside of him.”

I could tell Mom and Annalise believed me. Every time I looked over at them from my hospital bed they were huddled in the corner, sharing their whispered thoughts. Of course, “a demon mauled me” wasn’t the excuse we gave to the hospital staff. I invented a convoluted tale about how I was helping to load our van when I slipped on some ice, causing the heavy camera equipment to land directly on my arm, which had somehow twisted in the process. I thought it was very clever, but the doctor was obviously suspicious. He made me repeat my sad story a dozen times as he examined the X-rays and determined that I suffered from a torn ligament. “At least it’s not a fracture,” he said as he gingerly secured my bruised and swollen arm with the sling and prescribed painkillers.

“Get some rest,” he advised. “And no heavy lifting for at least six weeks.”

Zelden had wisely decided to avoid Dad, but he was skulking around the hospital trying to pry information from Annalise anytime she left my side to get ice. She told me that Zelden seemed more concerned about a potential lawsuit than my well-being.

“And Dad’s angry enough that he would consider hauling him to court,” Annalise confided. “He’s been trying to get ahold of his lawyer, but since it’s Christmas, he’s not having any luck.”

“Where’s Marcus?” I asked.

“He’s not here.” Annalise patted my hand. “Zelden sent him back to the hotel.”

I felt relieved. Even though I knew Marcus was not a maniac, I wanted distance from him.

Finally, I was released from the emergency room. It was past midnight, and Christmas was officially over. Annalise guided me into the van. “How are you feeling?” she asked as she carefully buckled the seat belt for me.

“I think the painkillers are kicking in,” I mumbled. I was exhausted, the combination of a long day and the medications finally taking effect.

I laid my head on Annalise’s shoulder and let my eyes close. Trying to doze, I caught snippets of my parents’ hushed conversation as Mom drove us back to the hotel.

“You cannot be so naïve, Karen,” Dad said. “This was Zelden’s revenge for years of our public criticism. He is trying to intimidate us. We should press charges.”

“After we lied to the hospital? No. Besides, Charlotte was very clear. She doesn’t believe Marcus knew what he was doing. Did you see him? The guy was absolutely traumatized.”

Dad grunted. “And he should be. Are you really defending the man that sent your child to the hospital?”

Mom sighed. “I’m just saying that I trust Charlotte on this. And you should, too.”

I stirred in my seat, desperately trying to find a position comfortable enough to sleep in. My parents stopped talking, and for the rest of the trip I drifted in and out of light consciousness. No matter what I did, though, I could not erase the image of Marcus’s eyes as he gripped my arm. I knew it wasn’t just a man that had grabbed me. It was something so much stronger.
The Watcher.
The Watcher of what? Of teenage girls forced to spend their holiday break filming cable TV specials? Or was the thing I had encountered some kind of energy confined to the asylum? I hoped so. I’d been followed home by spirits once in my life already, and once was more than enough.

There is a price to be paid,
the voice had growled. I suspected that my injured arm was just the beginning of that price.

Avery sat back on her pillow. Her little dog, Dante, trotted over and curled up in her lap. “Okay. Here’s what we’ll do,” she said, slipping into damage control mode. “We’ll tell everyone it was a skiing accident. No one will think twice about it.”

“Sounds good.” I knew I could count on Avery to come up with a cover story. I did not want the details of my injury becoming public knowledge. Life as Charlotte Silver, daughter of moderately famous paranormal researchers Patrick and Karen Silver, could be difficult. It wasn’t only that I’d grown up traveling constantly and had never really had a permanent place to call home. It was difficult because once people found out who I was and what my parents did for a living, they tended to see me differently. Worse, they treated me differently. But when we moved here for my senior year and I finally accepted that having a somewhat abnormal life wasn’t all that bad, things seemed to improve. I had real friends and a stable routine and a room of my own.

Avery looked around the room and lowered her voice. “Any chance that whatever it was followed you here?”

I would have laughed if the same thought hadn’t occurred to me. “No. And even if it did—” I leaned forward like I was about to reveal a secret “—whispering isn’t going to prevent it from hearing you.”

Avery rolled her eyes, but smiled. “I’m really glad you’re back, Charlotte.”

“Me, too. Now, what’d I miss?”

“Nothing nearly as exciting as what happened to you.” She cringed. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Avery leaped up, causing her dog to bark. “Sorry, Dante.” She went over to her dresser, where she kept a dozen framed photographs, and plucked one from the middle. “I wanted to show you this.” She handed me the silver frame. “It’s from the Masquerade Ball.”

I smiled at the picture in my hands. It was a group shot of us, surrounded by our friends. We were laughing, our arms thrown around one another. I was looking right at the camera. Beside me, Avery beamed and Callie stuck out her tongue. Noah and some guys were behind us. Even Jared was in the picture, standing off to the side but revealing a rare smile.

“This is great. Have you seen Jared recently?”

“Just yesterday, actually.” Avery sat down next to me. “He’s doing really well. He’s working on some project. He says it’s related to Adam, but he won’t tell me about it until it’s finished.” I handed the frame back to her and she ran her fingers over the glass. “The one-year anniversary of Adam’s death is coming up,” she said. “I think Jared’s working on some kind of memorial.”

Adam had been Avery’s boyfriend and Jared’s best friend until a car accident claimed his life. I knew that both were still dealing with Adam’s loss, but they were moving forward.

“A memorial is a great idea,” I said. “Let me know if I can help.”

“When I figure out what Jared has planned, I’ll let you know.” She returned the picture to her dresser. “But right now we have other plans.”

“Other plans?”

Avery turned and smiled. “There’s a huge party tonight, and you’re invited. We’re celebrating New Year’s in style.”

I looked down at my sling. “I don’t know. Navy-blue nylon isn’t exactly a trend.”

“I’ll find you something to wear.”

I trusted Avery’s fashion sense, but I wasn’t sure I was up to a crowded party, mainly because I’d never been to one. My parents’ work meant that we had moved around a lot, usually before I could form solid friendships. This year had been different, though. Before I could tell her yes, Avery pulled an indigo blouse from her closet.

“This is perfect. The color will help your sling not stand out too much.” She was still eyeing the blouse. “Noah will be there.”

I looked up. “So?”

Avery shrugged. “So I just thought you might like to know, is all.”

“We’re friends, that’s it. He made that pretty clear after the Masquerade Ball.”

Too clear, in fact. We had shared a few slow dances, laughed over the watered-down fruit punch, and posed for pictures. But just when I thought things were going great, he pulled away—literally. We had been dancing, the white lights from the overhead disco ball swimming around us as we talked softly. But as soon as the song ended, he walked across the room to talk with some friends, and when the dance was over a few minutes later, he acted distant. After that, Noah continued to maintain a friendly but marked distance, making it clear that we were friends and absolutely, positively nothing else.

“Well, there will be other guys there,” Avery said. “Callie thinks you and Harris Abbott would really hit it off. The party’s at his house, so I’ll make sure to introduce you.”

I stood up. “I haven’t even agreed to go and you’re already setting me up with a football player?”

“I’m not setting you up,” Avery said, rolling her eyes. “I’m simply introducing you to a nice guy. And you’re going. What kind of friend would I be if I let you miss the biggest bash of our senior year?”

There was no winning this one and I knew it. “Fine. I’ll go. But I don’t want you forcing some guy to talk to me, okay?”

Avery squealed and ran over to give me a hug. “This is going to be great! You’ll see, Charlotte. We’re going to make this a year to remember. And it starts tonight.”

With Avery’s borrowed top in hand, I went home. I poked my head in Annalise’s room, where an open suitcase sat on her bed. I could hear the shower running, so I went downstairs to find Shane. He was in the kitchen, whistling as he stood at the stove, making his famous omelets.

“Afternoon, kid,” he sang out.

I poured myself some grapefruit juice and sat at the counter. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“Yes, I am. I’m back home, there’s no snow—”

“I’ll drink to that,” I interrupted, raising my glass.

“And I have a date tonight.”

“Ah, yes, the temptress Trisha.”

Shane slid the omelet onto a plate and set it in front of me. “She is a temptress,” he agreed. “But also a lady.” He winked and sat down across from me. “So.” He nodded toward my sling. “How you doing?”

“Good.” Even though it was lunchtime, I happily devoured the eggs.

“Yeah? Because that’s twice in two months now.”

I knew what he was talking about. Before we had left for Charleston, I had been shoved—hard—by an unseen spirit wreaking havoc in our house. I had been hurt, but it wasn’t nearly as serious as what had happened in Ohio.

I tried to smile. “I guess I’m just a paranormal punching-bag.”

“I’m glad you can make jokes. Your parents are worried sick, though.”

I looked toward the living room, where we kept all our video equipment and computers. “Are they home?”

“Nope. Your dad scheduled an early meeting with his lawyer. Your mom is out running errands.”

I set down my fork. “His lawyer? Really? I told him it wasn’t Marcus’s fault, exactly.” I honestly believed that Marcus had been just as shocked as I was after everything happened. He was sobbing in the corner when the ambulance arrived. I saw the pure confusion in his face, and the way he looked down at his hands as if they were not his own. No one was that good an actor. He had not been in control of what had happened. I knew it in my gut.

“It’s not Marcus he’s after,” Shane informed me. “He blames Zelden. And he’s worried that Zelden’s going to try and profit off this.”

I finished my omelet. “That wouldn’t surprise me. I can totally see him using footage and staging some kind of reenactment to support his demon theory.”

After helping Shane tidy up the kitchen—a somewhat awkward and difficult task when you can use only one arm—I returned to my sister’s room. Annalise was wearing her bathrobe, a towel piled on her head. Her back was to me as she folded clothes and neatly placed them in her open suitcase.

“Do you have to go back today?” I whined. Annalise went to college two hours south, in Charleston, and I knew classes didn’t begin for another few days.

“Yes. I promised Mills I’d be back by dinnertime.” She looked at my sling. “How’s your arm?”

“Fine.”

“Liar.” She closed the suitcase and reached for another one. “Are Mom and Dad home?”

I plopped down in a chair and watched my sister pack. “Dad’s meeting his lawyer and Mom is out running errands.”

The corner of Annalise’s mouth twitched when I mentioned Mom.