A Whispered Darkness (22 page)

Grant looked thrilled, and though I wanted to get it finished, I appreciated the attempt to make us feel more like teenagers.

“How are you feeling?” I asked him.

We headed out into the mall. He shrugged. “All right. Worn out, but much lighter. I’ll be okay. Honest.”

“All right then,” I said. “Let’s go pick out a movie and get out of here.” I waved a finger at Grant. “
Not
a horror flick either. I know you.”

He held up his hands. “No danger of that this time. I think I’m done with those for a while.”

I let Grant move several feet ahead, tugging on Haven’s hand to slow his steps. When he was out of earshot, I glanced at Haven and said, “Do me a favor, will you?”

“What?”

“I’ll disappear into a store or something for a little bit. Talk to Grant. He’ll tell you things he won’t tell me. Please make sure he’s really okay.”

Haven released my hand and put an arm around my shoulders. I slid mine around his waist and we continued walking. “Sure thing.”

“You really are pretty awesome.” I paused and kissed his cheek. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

He smiled and warmth flickered in my belly. “I’ll do my best.”

I stopped at two places, trying to get Grant to go with Haven, but he followed me in, despite whining about clothes shopping with a girl. In a last-ditch effort to get him to hang out with Haven alone, I headed into a lingerie store. Grant took two steps in and then turned bright red.

“I’ll just wait out here with Haven. Don’t take forever!”

I nodded and then headed to the back, pretending to look through racks of bras, checking my phone periodically. After fifteen minutes, I could feel the sales clerk starting to watch me, and decided they’d had enough time.

Haven nodded over Grant’s head at me when I came out. Neither of them looked upset, and my stomach unknotted a little. We headed a few doorways down into the movie store and browsed through the titles, giving the horror section a wide berth.

We settled on an adventure movie—mindless entertainment we could all enjoy. The closer we got to leaving, the quieter everyone grew. It felt like we had our own little black rain cloud forming overhead.

Grant lifted a brow when we headed out of the mall. Haven moved ahead, giving us some privacy. “You need to chill out, Sis. Next time, you don’t have to hide in the bras to get me to talk to Haven. I’m not three years old. I’d have talked to him later anyway.” He wagged a finger at me. “Just for trying to pretend like I’m that stupid, I expect a giant bag of cheese balls as an apology.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. And where am I going to get these cheese balls?”

“On the way to get the pizza. Haven and I also decided what dinner was while you were pretending to shop.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I checked the screen. Bryan’s name flashed across the screen. I opened the text message and uneasiness returned like a fist to the gut.

You aren’t going to screw this up, Claire. I can’t let you.

“Who is it?” Haven asked.

For a split second, I paused, and then shoved the cell back in my jeans and climbed in the car. “Nothing. Just Mom giving me a hard time. Make sure we stop at the grocery store on the way. I’ll get Grant his stupid cheese balls.”

He glanced sideways, suspicion in his gaze, but didn’t say anything else. Why I’d lied, I wasn’t sure. The interactions between Bryan and I were strange. Every time I thought I understood him, he did something like this. It worried me. The house was connected to so many people in so many ways, I supposed it was possible. I relaxed into the seat and listened to Haven and Grant debate pizza toppings. I’d deal with Bryan’s temper tantrum later.

***

Grant had opened the front door to Haven’s before we even had all the bags out of the car. His eyes went straight to the frozen pizza like a dog senses a treat.

“I’m starved. Give me that thing, and let’s get this in the oven.”

“We just ate less than two hours ago,” I said, handing him the pizza. “You really are insatiable, aren’t you?”

“Being possessed will do that to you.”

I smacked him with one of the bags of groceries. “Not funny, doofus.”

He shrugged. “Truth hurts. Now where are my cheese balls?”

I pulled the bag from his grasp and handed him the one full of soda. “Not a chance. You take this and then we’ll see if you get your cheese balls.”

A fine mist fell as we walked inside. Appropriately dark and gloomy. I glanced at the sky before we headed for the door. Haven caught my movement.

“You know it’s supposed to be rain off and on until Halloween. The weather guy predicted storms.”

“Great.”

“Well, I suppose God has a sense of drama.”

“Or a really warped sense of humor. Do me a favor—if you’re at my house in the next week during a storm or power outage, don’t run upstairs in your underwear. Those are always the first to die.”

Haven chuckled. “Damn. There goes my Halloween costume.”

***

October is a touchy month for those who can speak to the dead. The wall between worlds doesn’t fall at midnight on the thirty-first and then flip back up again twenty-four hours later. It’s a gradual thing, like flower bulbs that peek through in spring and explode overnight into full bloom.

As we sat in front of the adventure movie, listening with half an ear to Haven’s engraver buzzing across the metal in the kitchen, I caught the feel of another person in the house. It was faint, almost like it snuck through our midst.

I closed my eyes, opened myself and searched.

Behind Haven in the kitchen, a thin, flickering form hovered.

“I don’t freaking think so,” I muttered, jumping to my feet.

I slid into the kitchen, fisted my hands on my hips, and frowned. Haven turned off the small tool and looked up. “What did I do?”

I ignored him, keeping my eyes on the wall behind him. “Show yourself this instant.”

The flicker moved toward the door, and in a moment of angry impulse, I reached out with a mental hand and grabbed the tail end of it. I jerked, hissing and opening my fist. A red mark arced across my palm.

Haven moved from his chair, cradling my hand. His other arm circled me, pulled me against him. His muscles tensed. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. There was a spirit there, and I tried to hold it back.”

The mark was already fading, though the spot throbbed a bit. I opened and closed my hand gingerly.

“Is that normal?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea. I’ve never tried to hold a spirit before.”

He slid a hand under my chin. “Let’s not try it again, okay?”

“Not anytime soon anyway.”

He frowned at my word choice, but I didn’t take it back. No sense in making a promise I would probably break later. I rubbed the spot, the pain already faded away. “I think it was the one your mother talked about. Vale.”

Haven glanced around the room, then released me after a quick squeeze. “I thought there was a presence, but maybe it was my imagination.”

“Why would he be here?”

Haven shrugged and put the plastic safety glasses back on. He picked up the small engraving tool and positioned it over the silver disc, clamped carefully on a block of wood. “Sometimes he pops in. I don’t always notice anymore. I assumed if he was my father, he was looking in on me.”

“And if he’s not?”

“I hope Mom sent him.”

Blowing out a deep breath, I wanted to shake him. “You talk about me and my attitude toward things. You can’t assume. What if it is something from my house?”

“Why would it come here? They don’t seem to have any range outside the house, or we’d never have gotten the bracelet off Grant.” Haven shifted the tool in his hand. “Go back and enjoy the movie. A few more minutes, and I think I’ll have the engraving done. The lettering is a pain on this thing.”

“You’re done talking about this, aren’t you?”

He grinned. “Claire, we need to deal with one thing at a time. I believe it was Vale, and for right now, he’s not a problem.”

I stood there, debating, while Haven turned the tool back on. The grinding whine made me flinch and I backed out of the kitchen to the living room. Grant raised her brows at me.

“Nothing. I remembered something I needed to tell Haven.”

He rolled his eyes. “We’ve
really
got to work on your lying.”

Later, as the movie wrapped up, I left the couch again and pulled Haven with me. We gathered paper plates and headed to the kitchen under the guise of cleaning up.

“I need help, Haven.”

He dumped the plates in the garbage. “Whatever you need, I’ll do.”

“You’re sweet, but I mean real help. I need someone who can get rid of whatever is taking over my life. There has to be someone.”

Haven leaned back against the countertop, one hand rubbed through his hair. “Believe it or not, Bryan and the Spirit Searchers are the local experts.”

“Do you really think they can help?” I wanted help, but I didn’t believe Bryan or Laura wanted anything more than an exciting evening of ghosts and scares. They weren’t interested in anything more.

“You met them, didn’t you? What do you think?”

I squinted at him. “Are you sure you can’t read minds?”

“I don’t have to with you, Claire. It’s written all over your face.” He moved, grabbing the rest of the trash from the counter. “Laura and Bryan aren’t the best examples, but I’m surprised you didn’t find Cain more convincing.”

“He talked to Mom, not me. I didn’t see him because I was so irritated with the other two.”

“Ah, well, Cain can help. But you’ll have to talk to him alone. When it comes to Laura, he’s got a blind spot. If you tell him the facts, he’ll listen. If she’s there, she’ll convince him you’re full of crap. When she wants something, she gets it.”

“So how am I going to talk to him alone? She knows I don’t think this whole thing is a good idea.”

Haven winked. “Leave that part to me. I’ll set everything up, and then take you to meet him this week.”

“You really think they can help?”

He walked over, sliding his hands around my waist. “The truth?”

I nodded.

“I think we should torch it. But that does present some problems.”

The idea of the house in flames did have its appeal. “I’d have to move, for one thing.”

He leaned down, his breath fanning across my lips. “Definitely not okay with me.”

Any response was lost when he kissed me. All my questions sank away when his body pressed against mine.

Until Grant started making gagging noises in the doorway.

Haven pulled away and grinned at her. “Yes?”

“Save it, lover boy. Cleaning up the kitchen, my ass.”

He released me, and I tried not to look guilty. Even though I enjoyed it, I had to wonder if he’d known what I wanted to ask, so he’d distracted me. He’d done a damn good job of it too.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have to get home. Sooner or later she’ll come looking for us.” Grant’s smile faded and he grew pale.

“It’ll be fine, Grant.”

“What makes you believe I think different?” His words were surly, but I let it go. He tried hard to act macho about it.

Haven took the silver charm from the kitchen table where he’d been working, and held it up with the original, careful not to touch anything but the napkin the older jewelry remained wrapped in.

“Who knew you were such an artist?” I stroked a finger across the surface he’d etched. The delicate swirls and loops of the initials were exact copies of each other. He’d rubbed some sort of black polish into it to replicate the worn look, and without close inspection, they were the same.

Grant sucked in a deep breath and took the one Haven offered. I tied it around his wrist when he thrust it toward me.

“Now let’s get this show on the road. I don’t want to have to wait and see what horrible things happen when I get back to the house.”

We gathered our things and headed to the car. Nerves made my palms damp with sweat. Haven tried to make small talk, but worry painted his expression when he thought I wasn’t looking.

I glanced back at my brother in the rear seat, one hand fiddled with the copied charm around his wrist. It didn’t have to work for long. We only needed enough time to figure out what the hell to do.

***

Mom wasn’t home when we got there. She’d left a note on the counter, written in a strange mix of looping curves and mom’s round print.

Working a double shift, and then I’ve taken off the remainder of the week to prepare for this weekend’s festivities. I cooked dinner for you. It’s in the icebox.

I slid the paper to Grant and opened the refrigerator door. Two neat plates complete with parsley garnishes sat on the top shelf, neatly wrapped in cling film. I pulled them out, turned, and looked at Grant.

“Never, in our entire lives, has our mother made food that looked like the cover of a foodie magazine.”

Without another word, I ripped off the cling film and dumped each into the garbage.

“Good choice.” Grant was pale and pointed to the sink.

I turned, my heart plummeting to my gut. A box of rat poison peeked out from behind a bottle of soap on the counter. The flap was still open, and my stomach turned over.

“She wouldn’t. Would she?” I murmured.

“I know Mom wouldn’t,” Grant said. “But I can tell you from my brief experience, whatever is inside her would.”

“That’s it. Don’t drink anything you didn’t open. Don’t eat anything she fixes.”

“Not a problem. But if she’s going to be here all week, what will we do?”

My gaze returned back to the box of poison. “Refuse to eat anything she fixes or brings into the house. Gloves are off now, and I’m not worried about hurting her feelings.”

I pinched the box between two fingers and dumped it into the trash as well. One thought nagged me. “Why would she leave it out where we could see it? The spirit is smarter than that.”

“Maybe Mom’s not totally gone.” Grant sounded so hopeful. I latched on to the feeling.

“Let’s hope so. For now though, we have to find some food.”