A Whispered Darkness (2 page)

“If you tell me this will all turn out for the best, I’ll fart in your sleeping bag.” He groaned, the mood lightening. “Mom’s been repeating it to me for the last week.”

I chuckled. “I know. It’s a little annoying.”

“A little?”

“Okay, a lot.”

Mom’s footsteps vibrated through the floorboards beneath us as she came in. Her long, dark hair floated behind her in a tangled cloud that still looked gorgeous.

“Done. The bathroom is good to go. Who wants to shower first?”

I pointed to Grant. “He smells worse.”

He rolled his eyes and stood. I giggled as Mom went into the other room to put down the cleaning stuff. I tugged on his pant leg as he walked past and whispered, “You can check to see if there’s actually hot water.”

“You better hope there is.”

I smiled as he grabbed some clothes from a duffel on the floor and rounded the corner to the bathroom. I was thrilled there was a full bath downstairs, because the thought of going upstairs made my skin crawl. Every time I turned my attention to the upper level, I could feel someone waiting for me, daring me to creep up the steps.

I shook my head as Mom sat down on the couch behind me. Dreaming up ghosts wouldn’t help anything. Eventually I’d have to pick a room and sleep up there. Alone.

In the dark.

“Is your brother going to be able to handle this?” A tremor ran through Mom’s voice. The sound of water rushing through pipes in the walls indicated Grant couldn’t hear us.

“I think he’s upset. But he’s a guy. They never handle things well. It’s in their DNA.”

Mom chuckled, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “That’s an understatement.”

I turned to look at her. One hand rubbed her forehead, and her eyes were bright with moisture.

“You keep telling us things will work out. Don’t have second thoughts now.” I spread my arms, gesturing to the piles of boxes. “We’ve already moved all this crap. If you want it moved again, you’re going to have to hire someone.”

“I’m afraid maybe this was too much. For both of you. But I really feel like this is the start we need. A foundation we can build on and make something that belongs to us alone.”

Something without Dad in it.
I got the message. The divorce had been civil, but it hadn’t been pretty. Where Grant and Dad were concerned, it got downright ugly. Grant had asked Dad when we’d see him next. He avoided answering until Grant couldn’t stand it and demanded a response. So as he’d slid the last packed suitcase into his car, Dad told him he didn’t know. He needed space to work out his life.

Grant had flipped him off and suggested some anatomically impossible things he could do with himself while he was out soul-searching. Dad tried to speak to me before he left, but all he managed to do was flush an amazing shade of red and climb into the car, driving off without a second glance.

It hurt more than I thought it would, but it wouldn’t kill me. Dad and Grant had been inseparable when he was younger. But once Grant grew out of T-Ball and Cub Scouts, Dad’s interests had turned to other pursuits. Ones with short skirts, implants, and blond hair.

I focused back on the television. Mom’s voice grew even softer. “What about you, Claire? Are you all right?”

And there was the opening. The place where I lied and pretended like it was nothing big. Like the world hadn’t fallen to pieces. I didn’t take it. I wrapped my arms around my knees. “No. Some things take time. I’m sure some day it will be all right.”

Mom rubbed my shoulders. “I am sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault. Dad made his choices. We’ve made ours. Now we’ve got to move on.”

“You are always so much older than your age. Sometimes I forget you’re a teenager too. I have to stop talking so much when you’re listening.”

A statement Mom made often. I bit back a remark. Everyone told me things they wouldn’t necessarily tell anyone else. They always had. Maybe it was my face, or the way I listened, or maybe just because I was there. I didn’t know.

“It’s okay, Mom. I know you need someone to talk to. No biggie.”

The fingers moving over my shoulders dug in a little harder. “Yes it is. You’re too young to listen to your mother complain about life. I’ve said too much about your father, your brother…everything.”

“No, of course not. I don’t mind at all.”
But I do. I’m your kid, not your shrink.

Mom patted my back and sighed. “I mind. I’ll try to do better.” She paused, shifted, and sighed. “Tomorrow we’ll get the rest of the boxes, clean up things, and then on Monday we’ll go and get you two registered for school.”

“I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t mind skipping that.”

She tugged on my hair. “Maybe so, but we will. It’s your senior year. The best time you’ll have in high school.”

I wanted this year to be better than the others. But I wouldn’t hold my breath. The sound of water stopped and my shoulders slumped in relief. Grant emerged a few minutes later in pajama pants.

“That was the shortest shower ever.” I pretended to sniff the air around him.

He shrugged. “I’m clean. Who cares how long it takes?”

I rose. “My turn.”

I slipped from the room, clutching clothes to my chest and taking deep breaths. This would be a new start for us. Whether it would be as good as Mom believed had yet to be seen. For all our sakes, I hoped so.

***

With the lights off, the house was a different kind of dark, even with the small nightlight plugged into the wall near the doorway. Mom claimed it was to keep anyone from tripping in unfamiliar surroundings, but I knew better. It was for my benefit; a teenage girl who couldn’t stand being in the dark, alone or not.

The fact made me feel small and ashamed. Not because my family said much about it. Grant never did, and Mom, after a few tries at a shrink, had been supportive. Dad was the one who tried to break me of it, but even he stopped after the first few night terrors.

It was better for everyone if there was a little light.

I slipped headphones on and turned my iPod on repeat. The sound of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata gently soared over the sound of waves against the shore. It was the water. The rhythm of it. No matter what season or time of day, it kept a steady beat. The surf might be rough and angry, punching the air with loud throbs, or it could be soft and gentle, whispering its endless tune. Beneath it all, the steady intervals never changed. It was a way to focus.

I rolled over, pressed back against the front of the couch, and pillowed my hands beneath my cheek. I could do it. Had been doing it. This was all an upset to my routine, but it would be okay. The waves helped, reducing my elevated heart rate to its normal, steady beat—perfectly in line with the ocean.

Still, sleep wouldn’t come. My eyes were swollen with fatigue, and my body ached with it. But the feeling of something in the thick blackness outside the doorway nagged at me. I tugged off one earpiece and waited.

A creak whistled through the air, then what seemed like a sigh. Could have been the wind. A small breeze curling from beneath a window frame. But I didn’t think so.

“Enough,” I whispered. “Go away.”

To my surprise the house stilled, silent as a tomb and tense as a funeral. Then another creak shot through the dark, and the feeling of being watched lessened, then left. I risked a glance at the doorway again. The darkness lost some of its texture.

I rolled back over, replaced the earpiece, and tried to calm my beating heart back into the rhythm of the music.

Peace didn’t come for a long time.

“How did you sleep?” Mom’s cheerful chirp made me cringe. My head pounded and I rubbed at my eyes with the heels of my hands as I sat up.

“All right, I guess. But I’ve got a crushing headache.”

Mom frowned from where she leaned against the doorjamb. “I’m sorry. Let’s get some breakfast in you and see if it helps.”

Grant rolled over and groaned, flopping an arm across his face. “Dear God, let us sleep.”

“Come on, butthead. It’s time to get up and get moving. Pun intended.”

“Moving? Ha, ha.” He peered from beneath his elbow and sneered. “Being clever so early in the morning?”

I shrugged. “Who can argue with brilliance?”

“Whatever.”

“Want the bathroom first, or can I have it?” I stood and stretched.

“Go ahead. Wake me up when you’re done.” He rolled over and started snoring again.

I changed clothes, brushed my teeth, and pulled a comb through my hair. I twisted it into a loose braid. With each tug of my fingers my head throbbed, but my hair would be wild if I didn’t pull it back.

That done, I returned to the living room. Putting my pajamas on my pillow, I nudged Grant with one socked foot. “Your turn, bro. Get up!”

He mumbled a few rude words, but staggered to his feet and toward the bathroom. I padded into the kitchen. Half the cabinets were open and a bucket of soapy, brown water sat in the sink. Shelf liner had been cut and stacked on the counter.

“I got a head start on things. You two were really out. I figured you’d be awake the second I started making any noise, but you never twitched.”

Sliding into a seat, I accepted a glass of orange juice and snagged a piece of toast. “Being used as child labor does that to you.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re so mistreated and abused.”

I smiled at Mom, who returned to the cabinets. A step stool sat out next to the counter, and she climbed up, scrubbing the wooden shelf with a thick sponge. Dirt and grime caked it, floating on top of the bucket of water.

She sighed and climbed down. “This is the third bucket already, and I’ve just started. The house has been empty five years, but it seems like it might as well have been five hundred.”

“Maybe whoever lived here before neglected things a little.”

Her voice grew hard, and she glared at me. “It’s a crime what they’ve let happen here.”

“Okay. But we’re fixing it.” I didn’t know what to make of her sudden anger.

Grant stifled a yawn and sat down next to me. “When are we getting the rest of the stuff?”

Mom’s shoulders relaxed, and the crease in her brows smoothed. “As soon as you’re done eating, we’ll get on the road. I want to make sure we get back early this afternoon so we aren’t unloading in the dark.”

Icy fingers stroked down my back. Alone all day in this creepy house. Great.

“Okay.”

Mom smiled. “I’ll get this set up for you, Claire, and then grab my keys and purse. By the time I’ve gotten everything together, you’ll probably be done.”

She dumped the dirty water in the sink, and I grimaced at the amount of sludge swirling around the drain. It was good I put on the oldest clothes I owned, because it looked like I’d be getting dirty.

Mom finished refilling the bucket, and dropped the sponge into the water. “I’ll be back in a few.”

Grant continued to hoover his food.

I propped my chin on my hand. “You can breathe between bites, you know. No one’s going to take it from you.”

He rolled his eyes and scooped out the last bit of sugary mix. “I’m a growing boy.” He wiped his mouth with the back of one hand. “Claire?”

I stared at him.

“Are you going to be all right if we leave you today?”

Surprised, I nodded. “Why?”

“You were doing a lot of moaning in your sleep last night. And you were crying at one point. Something’s bothering you, and it isn’t just Dad.”

“Did I wake up Mom too?”

He brushed shaggy hair from his face. “No. You weren’t loud. I only noticed because I had trouble sleeping too. Too much pizza, new place, you know, too much everything.”

I did know. “I’ll be okay. I have to get past it sometime, right? Sooner the better, because we’re stuck here now.”

He slid from the chair and put his bowl in the other sink. “Well, I’ll leave my cell phone in my pocket. If you need me, call.”

Tears burned my eyes. Considering my brother was two years younger, sometimes he acted far more mature than his age. Especially since my “accident” two years ago.

“I mean it, Sis. Call if you need me.”

I nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

He headed toward the living room. As he stepped outside the room, I called him back. Anxiety pushed at my chest. “You were up last night. Did you notice anything…weird?”

He paused, but didn’t turn around. My stomach sank. Of course he hadn’t. Only I seemed to have such unusual problems.

“Yes.” He continued on his way, leaving me to stare after him, confused.

And strangely hopeful.

***

“We should be back before three. Work on things downstairs for now. I hate to leave all this to you, but we’ve got to get everything out today.”

I waved at Mom from the porch, only partially listening to the list of chores and tips she rattled off. Half my attention remained acutely aware of the dilapidated structure behind me. There was a presence about it. The skin between my shoulder blades twitched, as if someone stood behind me on the porch, and they weren’t pleased to see me.

“Honestly,” I whispered as Mom drove the moving truck out onto the road. “I’m not thrilled to be here.”

I turned and glared at the open doorway, the black rectangle like the maw of some great beast. “But we’re here, and there’s nowhere else to go. So you’re going to have to deal with it. Like it or not, we’re staying.”

I thought I heard a low growl emanate from the depths of the house. But it was so faint and quick, I couldn’t be sure. All the same, my heart pounded in my ears.

I have to try.
I clenched my fists.
I can’t be ruled by my fear. Not again.

Still, it didn’t stop the chills running down my back. I yanked open the screen door and stomped inside, headed for the kitchen. The key to the supernatural was the same as with any other wild creature: never let them sense fear.

I’d always been able to sense spirits. But after last year, things were different. I’d gotten too comfortable. Cocky. And I paid for it. Oh, had I paid for it.

Cabinets were as good a place as any to start. Maybe if I kept busy, I could ignore the feeling of eyes watching me. Hauling the bucket onto the counter, I fished in the lukewarm water for the sponge. As my fingers squeezed the slimy foam, another growl echoed around me, this one clear as day.