A Whispered Darkness (6 page)

Mom’s face dropped into a fierce frown. “Been snooping around, have you?” My eyes moved to her, the strange gruffness in her voice sending a chill down my arms. As soon as it came, her facial expression softened and she smiled. “Well, I shouldn’t be surprised. They aren’t all locked. Just a few. And there’s plenty up there, believe me.”

Grant mumbled something and resumed stuffing his face. Ignoring the strange moment, I flipped a hand at the back of the house. “You know there’s more stuff in the back rooms down here, right?” I asked.

Mom hand stopped mid-way to her mouth. “Which rooms?”

“The two back parlor rooms, or whatever they are. I looked in the one at the end of the hall the other day. It’s full of boxes of paperwork and crap. I think there’s even some old furniture in there.”

She tilted her head and gave me a strange look. “Claire, those rooms
are
locked. I’m supposed to pick up the key from the agent tomorrow.”

Silence fell like a heavy blanket. I blinked and forced a smile. “Oh.”

“I believe you, honey. But—” she bit her lip and reached across the countertop to squeeze my free hand. “Are you sure you saw it with your eyes? Or was it one of those psychic things?”

I hadn’t imagined it. But there was no way I could tell Mom that. So I pretended to think about it and then shrugged. “Must have been a psychic thing. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Everyone has gifts. Yours are a bit more unconventional.”

“Sure.” She squeezed my hand again and released me, turning to Grant and asking him about his plans for his rooms. Her cheerfulness was overdone, but I wouldn’t argue.

I loved Mom for trying to make it sound like she wasn’t freaked out. Despite her support, I could see it in her eyes. She might say she understood, but it was hard for her. At least she made the effort. It was more than Dad had done.

More than most people had done.

***

Claire. Help us.

I blinked in the darkness, confused. Mom snored softly on the couch next to me, and Grant was a dark lump nearby. I shifted, then realized that my arm resting on the outside of the sleeping bag was so cold it hurt. Like I’d just carried a bag of ice for miles.

I chalked the whisper up to my dreams and laid back against the pillow. Whimpering echoed around me. The sound was faint, but undeniable. Sobbing followed, getting only slightly louder. My heart pounded, but sympathy coursed through me. It sounded like a woman whose world had been torn apart. Raising my head from the sleeping bag I searched for the source.

In front of the now-blank television, Grant moaned softly and rolled over. The sound ceased, instantly. I waited for what seemed like hours. As I laid down, I grabbed the ear buds from where they’d fallen next to the pillow and put them in. As the music began again, I heard noise again. I popped then out. Grant was crying in his sleep.

I pulled myself out of the sleeping bag partway, reaching over to shake his shoulder. At my touch, he jumped, his arms flailing wildly.

“Grant,” I whispered. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

I could make out his outline as he sat up and rubbed his hands over his face.

“Are you okay?”

There was a pause, and I wasn’t sure he would answer me. “I don’t know.”

“You were crying in your sleep. I figured whatever it was, you probably wouldn’t mind if I woke you up.”

I tried to be light hearted, but I was concerned.

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely okay.” He sighed. “Just a nightmare.”

“Sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”

I waited until he lay back down, and then crawled back into my makeshift bed. But now I was wide awake. All the same, I lay there quietly, willing sleep to come. Just when I thought I’d managed it, I heard a soft scraping noise. My eyes snapped open, and I watched Grant’s outline as he scooted his sleeping bag closer to Mom and I.

Without commenting, I closed my eyes, slid my hand under my pillows, and restarted my iPod.

Two days later, the house almost looked like a real home. Walls sported fresh paint, the floors were polished and the corners cleared of cobwebs. After putting the last curtain up, I stood back to survey my room.

Perfect.

They were wide enough to cover the whole window and window seat if I wanted. For the moment, I pushed them aside and tucked the fabric into two hooks on either side of the alcove. My bed had a canopy of sheer white fabric, and I’d picked a comforter with bright Caribbean colors to match. Wicker furniture painted white filled in the rest. If I closed my eyes and concentrated, I could almost hear the waves crashing outside my window.

Some parts of the move were beginning to improve.

“Looks very tropical, Sis.”

I spun toward Grant’s voice. “I know. Wait until I get the pictures up.”

“Is that what you disappeared in the craft store for yesterday?”

I nodded. “Yup. Destination photos. Beaches. Castles. All the things I want to see someday.”

He sat down on the window seat. “Your lover boy called earlier. I told him you were out.”

My mood deflated a little. “Bryan? Again? That’s three times this week.”

“Why don’t you tell him to get lost? He’s weird.”

With a snort, I picked up one of the framed photos I had stacked next to the bed. “It might sound hypocritical coming from me.”

Grant shrugged. “He doesn’t know that.”

I set the picture down with a sigh. “I don’t really like him all that much either, but he’s a start. I don’t want to begin school as the strange new kid. Bryan acts like the kind of person who knows everyone. So I’m trying to be nice.”

Grant laughed. “You’re using him for his social connections?”

When he put it that way, I felt like pond scum. “Shut up. That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s okay. Please promise me you aren’t going to date him.”

“Why would I? He’s just being nice.” I refused to see it as anything else.

His brows rose. “The boy is crushing on you hard. If you told him to bark like a dog, he’d ask what breed.”

“Grant, stop it. I’m not trying to be mean. I want to be normal here. I want to make friends.” I glared. “Bryan seems like the kind who can either make sure I never hang out with anyone, or introduce me to the whole student body. If he’s too friendly, I’ll deal with it. It’s a small town, and eventually the novelty will wear off. Then he’ll go fixate on someone else.”

My brother blinked at me, then rubbed a hand through his hair. “I guess I never really considered that. Sorry.”

“I am what I am and I’m okay with it. But I’d like to keep my secrets to myself as long as I can.” Though it had never worked before. Eventually I’d slip up and know something I shouldn’t, and the rumors would start. Until then, I could pretend I was normal.

“Well, I like you.”

I laughed. “Thanks.”

He paused in the middle of the room. “Have you noticed Mom lately? She’s seriously wrapped up in this place.”

I followed him to the door. “I know.”

Mom had gone from being a little obsessed to borderline freaky. She went into work to set up her schedule and then to stop to talk to the real estate agent about the junk in the house and the keys. She’d shown more interest in the keys than anything else, getting seriously angry when the real estate agent refused to come out to the house. He’d spent fifteen minutes on the phone with her, citing several important appointments which could not be missed. No matter how much she yelled, he wouldn’t budge.

Mom had muttered some choice words about his work ethic. In the end she decided to wait and get the keys for the extra rooms and talk to him about the junk upstairs when she had to go into work for her first day.

“I have to tell you, Sis, as far as I’m concerned, school can’t start soon enough. At least then we won’t be trapped in this place.”

As if she’d heard us talking, Mom’s voice echoed upstairs. “Grant! Claire! Great news!”

With a half-smile, I clapped Grant on the back. “Me too.”

***

Mom walked into the living room, brandishing an old skeleton key over her head like a wand. “Tada! Come on, we’re checking out those back rooms.”

She didn’t give us time to answer, just continued down the hallway. Grant and I followed, exchanging a glance. When we didn’t move fast enough, she called our names again. Once we were within sight, she slid the key in and twisted, throwing the door open dramatically. Cold air blew thin fingers through my hair, stale odors of damp and yellowed paper sticking inside my nose.

She stepped back, clapping her hands. “Look at it.”

“I’m not seeing what you are,” I said. “It’s a ton of junk we have to get rid of and clean up.”

“This is
history
. Someone’s life in these old papers and boxes,” Mom scolded, moving into the room. For a second, her eyes seemed to change. They darkened, the color almost black. I blinked, and the effect was gone. I shook my head. Too much paranoia.

Phantom fingers brushed down my spine and I lurched forward, farther into the room. When I glanced behind me, Grant’s face was white, jaw clenched tight.

He saw me staring and took a heavy step forward, his eyes narrowed on Mom’s shoulders. He released a long breath, and I turned my attention to where he was looking.

Mom stood in front of the desk, already flipping through a stack of brittle papers. The cold back here brought goose bumps to my arms and I resisted the urge to hug myself. Something watched us back here. There was an uncomfortable itch between my shoulder blades. Whatever was here knew I felt it, and it enjoyed my discomfort.

Beside me, Grant made a small grunt and spun. Mom looked up with a frown. “What is the matter, Grant?”

He shrugged, keeping his eyes down. “Spider, I think.”

“We can’t possibly tackle this before school starts.” I wanted out of here, and I knew Grant did as well. “The first day is tomorrow, and Grant and I still have to sort through the box of school supplies tonight.”

Mom ran her hands over the edge of a dusty, deteriorating box. “I know.” Her voice was wistful. “But I can get started on this tomorrow while you’re at school. I’m going to be working the night shifts at the factory, so I’ll do it during the day in my free time.”

“What did the real estate guy say about it? Are we supposed to be saving it for someone?” Grant sounded like it hurt to spit the words out.

“It’s ours,” Mom hissed. Her fist slammed on the box top, dislodging a puff of dust. There was a hungry, violent edge to the glare she shot the two of us.

Silence followed the comment, tension arcing in the air between us. Grant and I had identical expressions of confusion. Mom straightened, ran a hand over her hair and cleared her throat. “Sorry. Just a little stressed. No one wanted this stuff, and it’s such a shame. He said the former owners want nothing left here. All this history left to be forgotten.”

I raised my hands. “Okay. Got it. But Mom, what are we going to do with it?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said, rearranging a bunch of papers scattered over one box. Her fingers neatly aligned all the pages into a stack before caressing the top pages. “Maybe we can collect them, document everything, and give it to the local historical society.”

“Do we even have one of those?” Grant asked.

“Of course! Every town has one. We’ll have to find out who’s in charge here.”

“Can we eat now? I’m starved, and Claire and I have tons of things to do.” Grant blurted.

Mom jerked her thumb over one shoulder to the kitchen. “The last take-out meal of the week has arrived. We’re having subs.”

Grant turned and nearly sprinted down the hall to the kitchen. I took a few steps without turning, afraid to turn my back on the room. While Mom may have been comfortable, I couldn’t say the same. Tension coiled in the air, lessening the farther away I got.

Pausing at the door, I was torn between the need to distance myself, and the feeling that I shouldn’t leave Mom alone. I couldn’t forget the strange look on her face, and the way her face had seemed to shift a little. Like something else looked out through her eyes.

Goosebumps marched across my arms at the thought. Grant called my name and I took the easy way and headed for the kitchen. After only a few steps down the hall, I glanced back and my heart nearly stopped. Mom stood, a faded paper in one hand, engrossed in what she read. Behind her, one hand resting on her shoulder, hovered a tall black shadow of a man.

My heart pounded, and my voice shook as I called for Mom. She turned, and the dark shape dissolved. Another person would have chalked it up to hallucination. Too little sleep. Anything except what I knew was the truth. An entity had touched my mother.

Her eyes were glazed, and she seemed only half-aware of me. “What’s the matter, Claire?”

‘Mom, didn’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?” Her attention focused on me, though there was still a faraway look in her gaze.

“There was someone behind you. A ghost. Touching you. How did you not feel it?”

She came out and wrapped me in a hug, still holding a paper. “Honey, are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t make it up, Mom.”

She pulled back and stared down at me, but there was a strange mix of fear and sympathy in her eyes. “I didn’t feel a thing, Claire. It’s been a long day, and that room is full of all kinds of strange piles. Are you sure that it wasn’t just a shadow?” She paused, and a strange smile twisted her lips. “It has been a few months since you spoke to the doctor. Maybe I should make an appointment for you.”

The thought of having to spend more time on drugs and talking to psychiatrists who didn’t believe me made my blood run cold. Why she would bring that up and brush off my concerns, I didn’t understand.

“No, maybe it was just the boxes. I’m feeling fine. Really.”

“You sure?” Again, between one heartbeat and the next, I thought her eye color darkened. But I blinked and the impression was gone.

I pressed a hand to my forehead. “There’s just a lot going on. Old house, dusty corners. I’m just letting my imagination run away with me.” I pasted on a smile, then grabbed her hand and tugged. “Let’s get something to eat. If you get started in there, we’ll never get you out.”