The Dead Boyfriend (10 page)

A large stone guesthouse behind the mansion, nearly hidden at the edge of the woods, is where Deena Fear lives. I parked my car on the street. The driveway curving up to the mansion was overrun by tall weeds and burned pieces of lumber.

As I made my way up the lawn past the wreckage of the mansion, a blast of wind from the woods nearly blew me over. I toppled backward, trying to keep my balance. It was almost as if I was being warned to stay back, to not come any closer.

Why
was
I there? Why had I obeyed Deena's summons and hurried here when everything told me to avoid her, to stay away. Every sign screamed
danger
. So why did I hurry to this forbidden spot to see this strange girl who wasn't even a friend? Far from a friend.

I couldn't tell you. I couldn't explain it.

I ducked my head, holding my hair down with both hands as another strong gust howled past me. I stepped around a deep pile of ashes and had to jump over a tall clump of weeds.

The house was two stories high, very long, bigger than it appeared from the street. Several windows were shuttered. The others were all dark. The walls were a gray stone. The slanting shingled roof was painted red. The door at the side of the house appeared to be the only door.

I raised my hand to knock—and the door swung open.

Deena stood in the doorway. I heard classical piano music from the room behind her. “Come in.” She stepped aside. She didn't seem at all surprised to see me.

She hadn't changed from the funeral. Same pleated purple shirt, black vest, long black skirt almost to the floor. She had tied her long hair back with a black velvet ribbon. She had a tiny silver spider in one pierced nostril.

I followed her from the narrow front hall to a large living room. The rooms were all dark. One table lamp sent a dim gray light over the leather couch. The piano music grew louder. Two large painted portraits, an old-fashioned-looking man and woman, attractive but stern, cold-faced, unsmiling, faced the fireplace.

“My famous ancestors,” Deena murmured. She motioned for me to keep walking.

The hall led past a library. Sunlight filtered in through a high, narrow window. I saw floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with old books, a desk piled high with books, a stack of books on the floor.

I couldn't resist. “Do you like to read?” I asked.

“Yes. But those books aren't for everyone,” she answered. “You have to be interested in special things to want to read those books.”

“Like what?”

She didn't answer. We turned a corner. I gazed down the long hall. “Are we all alone here?”

“No. My parents are here, too.”

The hallway led to a large room at the back of the house. I blinked in the sudden light. The back wall was glass, looking out into the woods.

Outside the window, tall weeds bent from side to side close to the house. A patch of spring wildflowers caught my eye. Beyond them, I saw a thick clump of evergreen shrubs.

I heard a
squawk
.

I blinked when I saw a parrot on a perch near the center of the room. “That's Tweety,” Deena said. “He's my favorite. Isn't he a pretty boy?”

The bird was beautifully plumed with red, blue, and green feathers. It hopped on the perch, as if it was excited to see us. It squawked again, making sure we were paying attention.

My eyes caught a large aquarium on a table near the parrot perch. A single bed stood against the far wall. A desk with a laptop computer. A long, cluttered worktable, test tubes, glass pipes, like a chemist's table, scattered papers, electronic equipment I didn't recognize.

“This is my room,” Deena said. “We can start here.”

“Start what?” I asked.

Again, she didn't answer. She strode to the worktable and picked something up. When she turned, I saw that it was the silver bird amulet she had held at the chapel.

She raised it so I could see it clearly. Then she stepped back into the circle painted on her floor. “We don't have much time, Caitlyn.” Behind the owlish glasses, her dark eyes stopped on me. “If we want to do this…”

“Deena—I don't understand,” I said. “You have to tell me what you want to do.”

She rolled her eyes. “Bring Blade back, of course.”

My mouth dropped open. I started to protest, but no sound came out.

Deena spun the amulet in her hand. “I came close in the chapel,” she said. “You saw. You saw how close I came. But it takes so much concentration. It takes so much out of me.”

I couldn't hold back. “Are you for real?” I cried. “You made the corpse sit up. But you don't really think you can bring Blade totally back to life—do you?”

“Caitlyn, you saw the books in the library. The books told me how to do it. My family—we know things. We can do things.”

“This is crazy,” I said. “I'm sorry. I have to go. I don't know why I came.”

“I do,” she said, moving to block the doorway. “You came because you want to help me.”

“N-no,” I stammered. “That's not true. I don't want to help you. Because it's crazy, Deena. If you're serious, you need help. If you seriously think you can bring Blade back to life…” My voice faded. I was trembling.

She took a few steps toward me, lowering the amulet to her side. “If I prove it to you?”

“Huh? Prove it?” My head was swimming now.

“If I prove I can do it, will you help me? I don't have the strength to do it alone. Will you help me if I prove I can do it?”

“No. You can't prove it,” I said. “I'm sorry, Deena. This is too disturbing. You have to find someone to talk to. You're not making sense. I can't help you. I'm really sorry.”

I started to the door. Deena grabbed my elbow and spun me around. “Watch. I can do it. I'm not crazy, Caitlyn. I'm a Fear. I can do terrible things. I can do frightening things. You have to believe me. Watch.”

“Deena, wait—”

She grabbed the parrot around its middle. The bird squawked in surprise. She squeezed her fingers around it and swung it off its perch.

“Deena—stop!” I cried. “What are you going to do?”

The parrot squawked and twisted its head, struggling to escape. Deena carried it to the aquarium—and plunged the bird down into the water. Pushed it to the bottom and held it underwater.

“Deena—no! What are you doing?”

I rushed at her. I grabbed her arm. I tried to pull the bird up from the aquarium. But Deena pushed down with all her strength, and I couldn't move it.

“What are you
doing
?” I cried. “What are you doing?”

“Drowning the parrot,” she said.

 

21.

The bird struggled, kicking its claws, twisting its head. Deena pressed it to the aquarium bottom.

I leaped back in horror. The water tossed and splashed. A few seconds later, it was still.

The parrot slumped in Deena's hand. She pulled it up. Water dripped off the beautiful feathers. It didn't lift its head. It didn't move.

“The parrot is dead,” Deena said without any emotion at all. She squeezed the bird like a sponge, and water ran off it into the aquarium.

At that moment, at that horrifying, sickening moment, I realized how dangerous Deena was. And at the same time, I realized that I could be in danger, too.

She wasn't just crazy. She could take a beautiful bird—her pet, her favorite—and drown it in her hand and
not feel anything
.

I gripped my throat. I felt sick.

“Now watch,” Deena snapped angrily. “Are you watching, Caitlyn? What's wrong with you? I'm showing you something.”

“Sorry,” I said. My eyes were on the door. I didn't want to look at the dead bird. I pictured it in her hand, at the bottom of the aquarium. Struggling. Twisting and struggling. Little eyes bulging. Filling its lungs with water. Taking its last breath.

Deena set the parrot down on the worktable. Water rolled off its body, forming a puddle around it. She raised the silver amulet in front of her. She pressed it against the belly of the bird.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to breathe normally.

Deena was chanting now, repeating and repeating words in a language I'd never heard before. She shut her eyes and held the amulet over the parrot. And chanted, her lips moving rapidly, the words repeating so softly I couldn't hear them.

Sweat formed on Deena's forehead. Her eyeglasses actually steamed up. The amulet quivered in her hands as she continued to chant. A ray of sunlight through the window made the silver bird ornament glow.

I gasped when the parrot uttered a weak cry. The bird opened its eyes. It raised its head.

Deena continued to chant. Sweat ran down the sides of her face. Her voice became brittle, raspy.

The parrot uttered another squeak. It shook its head hard, tossing off water. It tested its wings, then climbed unsteadily to its feet.

Deena stopped chanting and opened her eyes. She mopped her perspiring face with the sleeve of her shirt. Gently, she lifted the parrot off the table and returned it to its perch.

She brushed its wing feathers tenderly with one finger. The parrot tilted its head and nibbled at her finger.

Then Deena raised her face to me with a strange, pleased smile on her face. “Back to life,” she said in a whisper.

I couldn't hide my shock. My mouth hung open as I stared at the parrot, preening its still-wet feathers. I struggled to think of what to say.

“I … I still want to go home,” I said finally. “You are scaring me, Deena. I don't need this.”

Her strange, tight-lipped smile returned. “Yes, I'm scary. That's why you're going to help me, Caitlyn.”

“I-I don't understand,” I stammered.

“You don't have to,” she snapped. “Don't try to understand. Just come with me. We don't have much time.”

“To bring Blade back to life?” My voice came out tiny. Fear tightened my throat.

She nodded. “They didn't bury him. He's still in the chapel. We have to go there now.” She stepped away from the parrot perch. “You saw what I can do. We have to do it before it's too late.”

“But … why?” I said. “Why bring him back, Deena?”

The parrot suddenly spoke up: “
Why? Why? Why
?”

Deena's eyes widened behind her large, round glasses. Circles of pink appeared on her pale cheeks. “Because I saw him first.”

I gasped. “Huh? What does that mean? That doesn't make any sense.”

“I saw him first, Caitlyn, and now it's my turn.” She started to the door. “This time he'll be mine.”

“Deena, wait,” I said, hurrying after her. “Wait. I'm not doing this. I can't. I don't want to bring Blade back.”

She wheeled around, and her eyes bulged with anger. “Why not? I thought you loved him. I thought you were crazy about him.”

“I … I thought so, too,” I said, my voice cracking. “But no. I can't do it. I don't want him back. It can't happen because—”

I stopped. I was about to confess why I didn't want to see Blade back. I was about to tell her that I was the one who killed Blade. And if he comes back … if he comes back …

I don't know what Blade will do to me, and I'm too terrified to find out.

I was about to confess. I was about to explain. I hesitated. I stood there debating, thinking hard. I didn't want to confide in this strange, frightening girl. What would she do if she learned the truth about me, the truth about Blade's murder?

I knew I couldn't tell Deena the truth. I knew I had to get away from her.

I took a deep breath, spun to the door, and took off. I raised both hands and shoved her out of my way.

Startled, Deena uttered a cry and staggered back a few steps, off-balance just long enough for me to escape. My shoes pounded the hard floor as I burst into the hallway, glanced right, then left.

Which way? Which way had we come in?

Shouting my name, Deena came running into the hall. I spun around and bolted to the right. The dimly lit hall gave me no clue as to the right direction to run.

I passed rooms on both sides, their doors shut tight. A high window at the end of the hall let in a wash of gray evening light. It made me feel as if I was running in a fog.

A mirror to my right gave me a glimpse of myself as I ran past, disheveled and frightened. At the end of the hall, another long corridor led in both directions.

I took the right again. I remembered there was only one door to this strange, old guest house. Was I running to it—or away from it?

Deena's shouts followed me, ringing off the walls, repeating my name again and again.

A sharp pain stabbed my side. I pressed my hand against it and kept running. The hall ended in black double doors. Not the entrance. I must have run the wrong way. And now I was trapped back here. Unless …

I grabbed both door knobs and swung the doors open. I could see a large dark room, the darkness cut by two slender beams of light from the high ceiling.

Deena's cries in my ears, I slammed the doors behind me. I fumbled for a lock on them. But no. I couldn't find any.

Gasping for breath, I staggered into the inky shadow of the room. I gazed up at the twin beams of light. So mysterious. And then I followed the light down … down … straight down to the floor.

I opened my mouth in a choked cry.

And gaped at the twin glass display cases. Tall glass cases rising up from the floor, glowing under the lights. And inside the cases …

Oh my God.

Two people. A man and a woman. Dressed in black outfits, as if for a funeral. Standing very still. Eyes wide. Each one staring out of a display case, staring straight ahead, not at each other.

The man had short, black hair and dark eyes. The woman had shoulder-length brown hair and bright blue eyes. Their faces were a strange orange.

Store mannequins,
I thought.
Clothing store mannequins
.