The Haunting of Gabriel Ashe (10 page)

GABE SAT UP IN BED, clutching his blanket to his chest. He struggled to catch his breath as the room solidified around him.

Only a dream…a nightmare. He was used to them, but he had never before dreamt of the Hunter.

Earlier, after he and his friends realized that the Milton suit was in fact empty, that whoever had watched them from the doorway had apparently evaporated into nothingness, they asked the expected questions.
What just happened? Have you ever seen it before? Is Temple House…haunted?
And after Gabe failed to answer satisfactorily, the group started with different questions—the ones that Gabe had dreaded ever since the fire had brought his family to Temple House.
Where did your father get the puppet? What does he do with it? Are there any more like it?
Defeated, Gabe told them the truth. He even brought them upstairs when he returned the puppet to his father’s workshop and showed them what was really behind the door.
Surrender is freedom
, his mind had later translated for him. Giving in had been easier than he’d expected. The group explored the room, acting amazed and wearing expressions of wonder as they pored over Glen’s sketches and models. But Gabe had seen those kinds of looks several years before, in his old town, after Glen had visited Gabe’s school to talk about his job. First comes awe, then come the nicknames and the unending ridicule.
Want to know what’s really behind that door, Felicia? Go ahead. Take a peek.
Now Gabe could do what he knew best, what he’d learned to do a long time ago. Hide. Fade away. Disappear.

The small black figurine that Wraithen had thrown into the
brush during Gabe’s dream came into his head, and he remembered where he’d seen it before. It was the figurine he’d noticed sitting on a shelf in David Hopper’s old bedroom, the one that Gabe had suspected was the missing piece of his grandmother’s collection. For some reason, Gabe’s dreaming mind had conjured it up.

He swung his legs over the edge of his bed. His feet met cold wood as he stumbled toward his bedroom door and out into the hallway.

After he and his friends had carried the heavy puppet back upstairs, Ingrid insisted on calling her sister to come pick her up. Mazzy and Felicia left with her, and when Malcolm asked if he could hitch a ride too, Gabe felt his fears solidify. Malcolm was supposed to have spent the night, but after Milton’s inexplicable appearance, Malcolm had been too scared to hang out, even just until Gabe’s parents came home.

Oh yes, this was most certainly the beginning of the end.

Gabe stepped onto the top stair, and it squeaked slightly. Staring into the dark hallway below, he realized that he might have a more immediate problem than the prospect of losing all his friends. Earlier that evening, someone had entered Temple House—someone who hadn’t been invited.

Fuming, Gabe made his way to the library. For a brief moment, while the group was still together, he’d believed that Seth’s game, the fantasy world and its oversized villain, was becoming a reality.

The Hunter will come for you.

So stupid.

He pushed open the library door and glanced around the room, making sure he was alone. This time, his grandmother’s rocking chair was empty.

Gabe flicked the switch on a nearby table lamp, and the library filled with a dim glow. The light barely reached the bookshelves by
the window, but his grandmother’s figurines were visible, huddled together as if planning a secret attack. Gabe slowly came upon them, feeling his lungs tighten with every step. Even from several feet away, he could see that there were five figurines on display.

He blinked several times, certain that sleep had tinkered with his imagination. When he’d come into this room with his friends earlier in the evening, Gabe had seen only four little men standing on the shelf, the same number he’d noticed on the night he found Elyse sitting in the rocking chair. At some point in the past few hours, someone had replaced the missing figurine.

A soft cry came from the hallway. Gabe froze. The sound came again—not a cry, but the squeal of old hinges. Metal rubbing against metal.

With a floaty, almost dizzy sensation, Gabe moved toward the doorway and peeked out into the hall. A gust of chill air slapped his cheek. Several feet away, the door that led outside to the stairs and down to the backyard patio stood open a crack. He pulled the door open all the way and stared into the cold night, searching for movement on the grassy slope, imagining someone dashing toward the woods.

The Hunter will come for you.

Of course, Seth’s threat had been empty, impossible. But was the prospect of Seth Hopper trying desperately to make him believe in the Hunter truly any better? Frightened and angry, Gabe cried out in a harsh whisper, “Seth! Are you there?” The only answer he received was the wind rustling the last of the leaves in the high branches down the hill.

SHORTLY AFTER SUNRISE, Gabe awoke to a violent knocking on his bedroom door. He sat up, but before he answered, the door swung open.

Glen stood in the hallway, dressed in dark overalls with his arms crossed over his chest. He did not look pleased. “Morning, Gabe,” he said. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Wiping sleep from his eyes, Gabe asked, “What do you mean?”

“Were you not in my studio last night?” Glen stepped into the room.

Gabe clutched the blankets closer to his chin, as if that could protect him from his father’s wrath. He hadn’t thought to check the puppet for damage. What if it there was something seriously wrong with it? “I’m sorry, Dad. Malcolm wanted to look at him.”

Glen sighed, relieved. “You know the rules. If you want to show your friends my work, just put the puppets back where you found them. Although I’d really prefer you didn’t touch Milton at all. He’s delicate, and if he breaks, I won’t have time to make repairs before my presentation for the producers in Boston tomorrow.”

“Oh,” said Gabe, feeling his face burn. “But we
did
put him back where we found him.”

Glen turned white. “He’s not in my workshop.”

“But that’s where we left him.”

Glen stared at Gabe for several seconds, searching his face for a lie. “So you’re suggesting that Milton just got up and walked off by himself?” he said, clutching the doorknob.

Gabe clenched his jaw. Milton walking off by himself? It wouldn’t have been the first time.

A half hour later, after revealing everything that had happened the night before, Gabe sat at the dining room table, surrounded by the rest of his family. They stared at him in disbelief. Gabe wasn’t sure if their expressions were in reaction to the spontaneous house party or to the idea of Milton growling from the shadows.

“And you’re positive that Seth Hopper had something to do with this?” Dolores asked. She bounced a wide-eyed Miri in her lap. Glen hung his head and paced aimlessly around the room. Elyse simply stared out the window as if lost in another world.

“Well, not really,” said Gabe. “Not
positive
.” He felt guilty pinning this on Seth without any actual proof. The return of the black figurine to the library certainly seemed like a clue. But why would Seth have stolen the figurine? When? Why return it now? And most importantly, why take Milton in its place?

“I’m going to have a talk with his mother,” said Glen, standing. “Gabe, put on your shoes.”

Gabe felt his face heat up. “What for?”

“I want you to tell her what you told us.”

“B-but you might upset her.”

“I don’t care! If her son is a thief, maybe she deserves to be a little upset.”

“Glen,” Dolores whispered, holding her hands over Miri’s ears. “Hush.”

Gabe’s father shook his head. “If we don’t get that puppet back today, we can forget about selling this show at all. We’ll be right back where we were three months ago, after the fire.”

Elyse turned from the window. “If you must go, please don’t walk through the woods.”

“No, Mom. Of course we’ll take the car.”

Gabe stared at Elyse as she nodded, appeased, and he wondered what she knew that the rest of them did not. Now was not the time to ask.

“PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME go in there,” Gabe said.

Glen pulled up along the side of the house and parked behind Mrs. Hopper’s blue Honda. He didn’t often show anger, but today he glared at Gabe with fire in his eyes. Glen pushed open the car door and stepped outside. Gabe knew that meant he was supposed to follow. He was frightened to find out what might happen if he disobeyed. And as he made his way up the lopsided steps toward the front porch, he worried also what might happen when Seth found him standing on the welcome mat.

Glen pounded on the storm door. The glass rattled, loose in its frame. “Dad,” Gabe whispered. “Careful.”

“Don’t speak,” Glen said.

The inner door opened a crack and a sleepy voice came from inside the darkened entry. “Can I help you?” Seth’s mom opened the door a bit more and added, “Gabe? Is that you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Seth’s not here right now,” she said. “I’m not sure where he went.”

“Actually, Mrs. Hopper,” said Glen, “we’ve come to talk to you.”

Sharon slipped outside into the cool morning air. She stood barefoot between Gabe and Glen. Her fuzzy pink robe was dingy at the hem. Her eyes were puffy and red. Either she had just woken, or she’d spent the past hour in tears. Her matted hair lifted
from her scalp in an unintentional bouffant. She sighed and crossed her arms.

“What did he do now?”

Sitting uncomfortably on the porch, Gabe repeated his story to Sharon. Glen stood over them, grasping the wood railing at the bottom of the steps. Gabe told Seth’s mom about their game, about the figurine, about Seth’s strange behavior at school and their falling out, about Seth’s threat, and finally about Glen’s missing monster puppet. She listened, albeit glassy-eyed and slightly aloof. When he was finished, she said, “So what do you want me to do about it?”

Glen spoke up. “It would be nice if you let us check his room.”

Sharon shook her head. “I can’t let you inside.”

“Why not?” Glen asked. His face was flushed the color of raw meat.

“It’s a total mess. I’m in no shape for guests.”

Gabe wondered if she’d meant to say, “
My house
is in no shape…”

“I mean no offense,” Glen said, “but we’re not your
guests
. Your son took something of mine, and it’s very important that I get it back. Now.”

As if waking from a dream, Sharon finally looked at him. “But we don’t
know
for certain that he took it.”

Glen scoffed. “Could you at least check?”

Sharon stood and tightened her robe. “Fine. Gimme a minute.” She disappeared inside the white cottage, leaving Gabe alone with Glen, who trampled crabgrass as he paced in front of the porch steps.

When Sharon returned a few minutes later, she said, “I couldn’t
find anything out of the ordinary. You say that this puppet thing was big?” She held her arms out wide and glanced between her hands.

“Huge,” said Glen, holding his arms out wider. “Larger than I am.”

“There’s no way my son could have hidden something that size in this house.” She glanced toward the barn. “Unless…”