Riley Bloom 1 - Radiance (8 page)

He slunk toward me, tail tucked tightly between his legs as his big brown eyes gazed into mine. “That’s better,” I cooed, scratching his head to show I was more annoyed than mad, watching as the couple lifted their hands and studied the fingers Buttercup had just slobbered all over, before turning to each other, bushy brows raised as if to say: Did you feel that?

“You need to stick by me, not them. No matter what happens from here on out, I need you by my side, okay? We can’t take any chances—I just have to figure out what to do before they—”

The woman moved toward me, moved in small baby steps as she crept across the floor. Her large bare feet, riddled with corns and bunions, with nail polish so badly chipped they made my own nails look salon fresh. Raised up high onto her tippy-toes, padding across the rug, video camera held out before her, the soft whir of it the only sound in the room as it recorded what I could only assume were a series of white, glowy, wavering images of one smallish blob of light and one even smaller blob of light, since, from all the shows I’d ever seen on TV that covered ghosts and hauntings and such, it was pretty rare for those recorders to pick up anything more.

“He’s not alone,” she whispered, waving to her husband from over her shoulder. “There’s someone with him, someone smaller, like they’re crouched down low.”

He?

I narrowed my eyes and scowled, nudging Buttercup even closer to my side. Tugging on my skirt and running my fingers through my hair until it was arranged a little more nicely, a little more girly, completely offended by the fact that I’d just been mistaken for a ten-year-old boy.

“Is it him? Is it really the Radiant Boy?” her husband called, the words rising at the end in a potent mix of excitement and fear.

“Yes,” she said, her voice having firmly decided, though her eyes weren’t quite as convinced. “At least it certainly seems like it. And he’s got someone with him—someone smaller—there are two Radiant Boys here!”

Oh brother.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, sitting back on my heels as she continued to creep closer and closer.

Some ghost buster she was turning out to be. Mistaking what was clearly a cute blond girl and her adorable yellow Lab for not one, but two bratty little boy ghosts. Sheesh!

“Try to speak with them—try to make contact,” her husband urged. His gaze was fixed on the screen of his little handheld device, eager to see the lines shift and move once again. “Ask him why they’re here, and what they might possibly want. Ask them if they have any messages they might like to pass on.” Saying all of that as though I could only hear the words if she said them. As though she had some special patented way of communicating with the dearly departed.

Her husband came up behind her, seizing the camera she passed over her shoulder and steadying it in one hand while keeping the voice recorder going in the other. Watching as his wife crept even closer, running her hands over her wrinkled green sweats while completely ignoring the bed hair that, had I been her, I would’ve been way more concerned about.

“Is there any message you’d like us to pass on? Is there anything we can do for you?” the woman asked, squatting down on her haunches, as her knees cracked so loudly and violently, I actually jumped in surprise. Cringing back against the wall as she angled her face until it was dangerously close to Buttercup’s and mine.

“Yes,” I said, finding my voice again and nodding sincerely. “I’d really like it if you could just pack up your equipment and move on, so I can deal with this Radiant Boy on my own. You know, the one you actually came here to see? Seriously, move it along so I can finish the job.”

I scowled, knowing she wasn’t about to go anywhere. Not as long as Buttercup and I were inadvertently giving her the thrill of her ghost-busting lifetime, even though, technically speaking anyway, neither of us could truly be considered as earthbound entities, since we were only there on a mission, and therefore had no plans to stay—a small, but pretty substantial fact that was completely lost on her.

I sat back and sighed, long, loudly, no longer caring when she turned toward her husband, her eyes wide, head bobbing up and down as she said, “Did you feel that? Just now? That rush of cold air?”

He nodded, his gaze running the track between the camera’s display, the voice recorder, his wife’s crazy eyes, and back.

“Are you getting all this?” she asked, rising in a way that made her knees crack again, causing Buttercup to wince and me to cringe.

“All of it,” he mumbled. “Every last bit of it.” He smiled, his eyes shining brightly.

“Fantastic!” she exclaimed, face beaming, cheeks flushed with excitement, as her hair, still not attended to since she’d jumped out of bed, pretty much stood up on end.

And watching all of that, well, it was just too much.

Not only had I been recorded and filmed, destined for some pathetically dorky, homegrown, schlocky, ghost-busting Web site, but I’d yet to see the Radiant Boy, and as long as they kept this up, it was clear that I wouldn’t.

I slumped against the wall, and glared at the couple before me, hoping they’d get a good shot of that amongst the rest of their footage. Watching as they closed in on us, stopping just short of where Buttercup was crouching down low, transitioning into full-on guard dog mode, as he let off a low, menacing growl.

“Oh, now you decide you don’t like her?” I looked at him, and shook my head. “What about earlier when you were slobbering all over her hands? Huh, what about that?”

But just after the words were out, I noticed she wasn’t the one he was growling at.

There was someone behind her.

Someone creeping up behind both her and her husband.

Someone who glowed so brightly the whole room lit up.

Someone who could only be described as—

Radiant.

Behind him, the room shook.

Objects flew.

As the ghost-busting couple bolted through the door with Buttercup close on their heels. Dropping their equipment and abandoning their belongings without a second glance, the shrieking echo of the husband’s high-pitched scream lingering in the air long after they’d left.

Leaving me to face the Radiant Boy all on my own, as practically anything and everything that wasn’t nailed down or weighing in at over two hundred pounds went soaring through the air, directed solely at me.

A chair nearly sliced me in half.

A lamp nearly cut off my head.

As a pair of graying old tube socks with holes in both the toes and the heels lifted right out of the couple’s suitcase and headed straight for my neck, completely bent on strangling me.

All of it whirling about in a frenzied gale-force wind that could rival any Midwestern tornado, and refusing to stop until the entire room and its contents were either broken, upended, or no longer anywhere near their original place.

I cowered against the wall, narrowly avoiding a rogue blow dryer that hissed and looped before me like a venomous snake. Too afraid to close my eyes in case I might miss something, too afraid to keep them open for what I might see. Squinting into the wind and debris at the Radiant Boy glowering over me, wishing I’d just grabbed hold of Buttercup’s tail and sailed right out of there while I’d still had the chance.

But it was too late for that. My failure to run left me with no choice but to deal with it. If I’d any hope of making it to London, learning to fly, or even just having the courage to face Bodhi again, I’d have to stay put, no matter what came at me.

No matter what became of me.

The Radiant Boy towered menacingly, having grown three times his size in just a handful of seconds. The blond curls that had been springy and bouncy just a moment before morphed into angry, vicious, three-headed snakes, while his body emitted a glow so bright—so radiant—it was all I could do not to cover my face. As his eyes raged ominously, two fiery, flaming pits of anger focused on me—though it was nothing compared to his mouth—an infinite black hole—a bottomless abyss—gaping so wide I had the unmistakable feeling he intended to swallow me completely.

I clamped my mouth shout, desperate to keep the scream from escaping. My eyes locked on those two flaming pits as he moved closer and closer still, knowing he was the scariest thing I’d ever seen in both my life and death combined. And that includes my worst nightmares, shows on TV, and even the movies I wasn’t allowed to watch but did anyway.

Nowhere had I ever seen anything quite as frightening as he.

His fiery eyes raging in a way so intense I could actually feel their white-hot scorching heat, as the infinite void of his mouth practically sucked the air right out of the room. Knowing only one thing for sure:

No trip to London could ever be worth it.

And as for flying, well, it was clearly overrated.

But just as I turned, sneaking one foot halfway through the wall, eager to make my escape—I thought about Bodhi.

Thought about the smirky look he’d surely give me the second he found me in the hall, all wide-eyed and scared witless.

I thought about failing, and just how awful that always makes me feel.

And I knew I couldn’t do it.

Couldn’t allow myself to cave quite so easily.

Not without putting up a good fight at least.

No matter what would become of me, no matter what that Radiant Boy tried to do, I had to see it through.

I spun on my heel and placed my hands on my hips, squaring my shoulders as I narrowed my gaze and screwed up the courage to say, “Just what is it that you’re trying to prove here, anyway?” Hoping he couldn’t see the way my limbs all trembled and shook.

He crept closer, eyes glowing like crazy, mouth gaping wider—wider than I ever would’ve thought possible—as he closed the gap between us with surprising speed. Those angry, hot orbs practically singeing the brows off my face as he leaned toward me and shook the snakes loose from his head. Freeing hundreds of slimy, red-eyed, three-headed, angrily snapping snakes with razor-sharp fangs—all of them slithering, wriggling, and writhing toward me.

I sprang toward the settee, balancing myself on the slick marble-topped table as the snakes slid all around. Their numbers multiplying so quickly they completely obliterated the smooth, polished wood floor that had been there just a moment before—morphing it into a bottomless, hissing sea.

And even though I tried to stay calm, tried to remind myself that I was already dead, that they couldn’t really hurt me no matter how much they tried, it was no use. There was no overcoming my fear.

A sea of snakes with no escape.

It was pretty much my very worst nightmare come true.

Or, at least that’s what I thought until the flaming-eyed, snake-haired, demon-faced Radiant Boy morphed into something far worse.

Transforming himself into a completely crazed circus clown with huge red shoes that bounced right over the snakes, stirring them into a wild, lashing frenzy as he leered at me with his creepy, exaggerated face. His oversized, sloppy red mouth a jagged gash in his flesh, dripping thick rivulets of blood all down his front, as the flames continued to burst from his eyes.

He leaned toward me, allowing the frenzied, snapping snakes to slither up and down his arms, and I was just about to bolt, just about to cry “uncle” and get myself to safety, no longer caring about what Bodhi might do, no longer caring about anything but freeing myself of this beast, when I found that I couldn’t.

Couldn’t move.

Couldn’t run no matter how hard I tried.

Somehow, entirely against my will, and without my even realizing it, I’d been strapped and harnessed into what I soon recognized as a dentist’s chair.

I opened my mouth to scream, hoping to alert Bodhi, Buttercup, the ghost-busting couple, someone—anyone—knowing I needed all the help I could get. Clamping it shut the second I saw the horrifying assortment of drills and picks and needles he wielded before me—leaving me no choice but to silence myself.

And that’s when I realized what was truly going on.

This scary, sadistic, completely crazy, drill-wielding, snake-charming, orthodontist/clown/Radiant Boy had seen right through me. Right into the very heart and soul of me.

He’d tapped into my very worst fears.

Snakes—three-headed ones at that!

Clowns—stemming from that horrible summer day at the Oregon Country Fair, when I was just a little kid and some crazy mime/clown got all up in my face and refused to stop following me, stop mocking me, until my dad was forced to intervene.

Dental instruments—an approved form of torture, I’d no doubt about that.

But what I didn’t know was how he managed it—how he’d read me so well.

And it terrified me to think of just what else he might know.

His flaming eyes and bleeding mouth veering closer and closer as a tangle of snakes leapt onto my chair causing me to cringe, squishing back in my seat as far as I could, wishing I could scream, find a way to call for help, but knowing that to do so would only allow admittance to those horrible, whirring instruments. Pressing against the thick canvas straps, struggling against them with everything that I had. But it was no use.

He’d already won.

I was well on my way to joining the ranks of every Soul Catcher who’d come before me and failed.

I ground my teeth together and squinched my eyes shut, unwilling to see any more. Cursing Bodhi under my breath for putting a rookie like me in a situation like this with virtually no warning, no proper training of any sort, and cursing Buttercup as well for abandoning me in what was clearly a time of deep need.

And I was just about to do it, just about to beg him to stop, to tell him that for all I cared he could haunt this place for the next hundred years, when he emitted a roar so loud, I couldn’t help but peek. Couldn’t help but peer into that creepy wreck of a face, watching in terror as it transformed from crazy flaming-eyed clown to every horror movie monster of the last thirty years.

And that’s when I knew:

He didn’t know me at all!

Hadn’t tapped into the deepest part of me like I’d thought.