A Whispered Darkness

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

Copyright © 2014 Vanessa Barger

A Whispered Darkness by Vanessa Barger

All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Month9Books, LLC.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Published by Month9Books

Cover by Victoria Faye

Cover Copyright © 2014 Month9Books

For Randy –

Thank you for your patience, love, and support. Most of all, thank you for being my personal Haven, in all the ways that word implies.

For Mom and Dad –

Thank you for all the support and love you’ve given me in my life. When I was a little weird kid, you always encouraged me, and when I grew into a big weird kid, you never stopped. Love you.

For Roommate –

For late nights, phone calls, advice, venting, chocolate, and so much more. You’re awesome. Thank you for always being my “bestie.”

When a soul breaks, it isn’t pretty. The pieces are sharp; they cut and bite and rend at flesh. They seek blood, want vengeance. They congeal, become something more than they were, something dark and beautiful and terrible.

And they seek companionship in their darkness.

I didn’t want to be alone in the dark. Not here. Not yet.

The dark had never agreed with me. After The Incident, and all the shrinks and therapy, that much hadn’t changed.

Several boxes had been pushed into the large kitchen of the sprawling Victorian mansion we now called home. I rummaged through one with “dishes” scribbled across the side. Mom and my younger brother, Grant, were out getting the pizzas to christen our first night in a new house.

While I hoped this would be a new start, I didn’t hold my breath. Nothing had gone the way we’d hoped so far. Dad left with a blond bombshell. Mom went into therapy. They got a divorce. And here we were. Living in an aged mansion that made me feel like I needed a tetanus shot just to breathe the air inside.

There was optimistic and then there was delusional.

Pushing hair out of my eyes, I pulled a stack of bowls out. Nothing else was in the box. “Note to self: never let Grant label anything ever again.” I muttered.

Of course, it might have been part of his plan. My baby brother wasn’t stupid, despite being fifteen, and sometimes not completely possessed of a brain.

Thank God the fridge was new. I grabbed a bottle of water from inside. Based on the layer of dust and dirt on everything else, I didn’t want to imagine what the previous stove and fridge looked like.

Mom had been so eager to get into this new place she hadn’t allowed time for much cleaning beforehand. We had two days to move from the old house, two hours away, into the new one. I sipped the water. What weird hold did this place have over Mom? She’d barely been able to contain herself when she first viewed it. It was like she craved this place. Maybe it was the new start. Maybe it was a chance to get away. In either case, it was out of character for her.

I wasn’t sure this was the fresh start I wanted, but Mom lit up when she talked about renovating the old Victorian home. It made her act more like the person she used to be, before the news about the affair and the inevitable divorce.

A thud echoed through the house and I jumped. I took a deep breath and rounded the corner, glancing out the screen door to the driveway. No car.

Another thump echoed, followed by a shuffling noise.

My gaze moved to the ceiling as my heart skipped a beat. “Rats,” I whispered. “Has to be rats.”

I stood in the wide foyer, the stairs ominous and dark in the center of the house. They drew my attention, and the urge to walk upstairs and investigate warred with the desire to run.

I was seventeen years old. Time to act like it. It wasn’t even fully dark outside. I’d been home alone before. Sometimes for entire weekends.

Snap out of it, Claire. You’re making something out of nothing.

Goosebumps moved down my arms in another prickling wave, and I swore the temperature dropped. I took three steps toward the stairs.

Outside, I heard a motor and then Mom’s voice calling my name. Relief flooded my body as I turned away from the upstairs and headed for the door.

Mom was already heading for the trunk, and as soon as I got to the car, Grant thrust the pizza at me. I grabbed the box, my stomach rumbling at the smell. He reached into the passenger seat to pull out grocery bags with bottles of pop and extra things inside.

“Get inside you two. We’ll leave the rest of this for later. I’m sure you’re both starved.” Mom sighed, shooing us with her hands toward the door.

Grant didn’t acknowledge her. Tension stretched like a rubber band between them. The car ride hadn’t gone well.

Great.

Mom pushed things too hard with him. She wanted him to be okay, to realize out loud to her that Dad was a jerk. To tell her he was fine. But he wasn’t. He wouldn’t be for a long time. Mom might know it, but she didn’t want to admit it.

It didn’t bode well for the future.

I followed Mom up the steps. As we entered the foyer, I tapped her shoulder. “By the way, I think we’ve got rats. I heard something fall upstairs and scurrying.”

Mom frowned, her gaze shifting to the ceiling. “Let’s hope it’s just an old house settling. I don’t want to have to deal with rodents.”

“It didn’t sound like settling to me.”

“I’ll have someone come out and look around.” She patted my shoulder.

“You didn’t do that already?” Grant asked around a bite of pizza.

“There hasn’t been time. But you’ll be okay for a few days. How about setting up the TV? The cable is on, all we have to do is plug it in.”

Grant jumped on the chance, shoving a slice of pizza in his mouth at the same time. The television sat in the middle of the living room with a bunch of other furniture. Luckily, Mom had cleaned the living room when we arrived, before we moved things into it.

While he fiddled with cords, I passed Mom a plate, taking one for myself and loading it with pizza. After pouring a drink, I trudged into the living room and flopped down with my dinner.

Grant hopped up, having connected everything, and hunted through the box of electronics and cords next to the set. After a few moments of rummaging, he emerged, brandishing the remote over his head. “Ha ha! The scepter is mine!”

While the cable box found a signal and the television flipped through the channels, he dashed back to the kitchen, returning with the entire pizza box and sat on the floor with it balanced on his knees.

“You can use a plate, Grant,” Mom said.

He shrugged, flipping through the channel guide. “Why dirty the plate? I’m starving.”

Her mouth pulled into a frown, but she didn’t push the issue.

I rolled my shoulders. They needed to end their battle of wills soon, because I wasn’t sure I could handle months of it. Too much more and I’d lose
my
cool.

That’s what had started all this in the first place.

Mom spread her sleeping bag on the couch while Grant and I took two air mattresses on the floor in the living room. Mom went into the bathroom armed with sponges and cleaners to tackle the mess before we showered.

While she was scrubbing, Grant turned on a movie and we sat back on the floor.

“Does this place give you the creeps?” I asked during a commercial.

“You mean like ‘ghosts’ or ‘death by decay?’”

“Ghosts. I know it’s scary by any other definition. The prospect of cleaning this place sends me into cold sweats as it is.”

He paused, his eyes never leaving the television. “I think it’s creepy. But it’s an old Victorian house. They’re made look creepy. Hopefully we’ll get used to it.”

“I hope so.”

Silence fell between us, until Grant scratched his neck and glanced over at me. “You don’t think what you heard was rats, do you?”

I shook my head.

“Great,” he muttered. “Let’s add freaky ghosts to the list of things we have to deal with.”

“Maybe it was rats. Maybe it was me. It could have been a lot of things.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I guess. But I know you, and I don’t believe it.”

“In all honesty, it was probably in my head. Old houses settle. Things fall.”

“Especially here.” His gaze skimmed over the dusty corners of the room. “If you think it was nothing, I believe you.”

I wished I could take the question back. The last thing I wanted to do was scare Grant. Or put ideas in his head. “I think it’ll be okay.”