Dark Hollow Road (Taryn's Camera Book 3) (21 page)

Slowly letting herself out of the bed so as not to wake him, she tiptoed from the room and made her way downstairs. They’d left nearly every light in the house on, something that felt foolish at the time, but now she was glad. There was another television in the living room and she turned it on and flipped through the channels while her laptop booted up. Miss Dixie gazed forlornly at her from across the room. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” she muttered, feeling guilty. “I need to get you back out.”

There is a point in the night where the thrill of being up late and working in the stillness loses its luster. Suddenly, the nighttime is no longer another world, another time, but just an extension of the day. Taryn usually started feeling depressed at about that time, as she was reminded of the fact that it was going to be daylight soon and instead of feeling like she’d made the day before longer by not going to bed, she was hit with the realization that she’d made the new day shorter. She’d go to bed around 6 or 7 am and wake up after noon, justifiably having slept half of the day away. In the darker months, when daylight was shorter, there were times in which she’d only see a little bit of daylight at all. She didn’t prefer being up at night; she just got tired of fighting her fears in it and gave in to it. She’d taken numerous prescriptions to try and help her sleep, both prescribed and over the counter, but all they did was proceed to make her exhausted so she’d sleep just as long. It was a battle she’d been fighting most of her life.

As scared as she’d been lying in bed, now that she was up and her senses acute, the fear seemed silly, whatever was in the dark beatable. Her courage gathered and fighting back demons felt possible. The idea of being asleep, defenseless in bed was what bothered her the most–the feeling of being out of control. This was one of the reasons why she had no trouble rambling around old, spooky houses in the daytime or even seeking out ghosts and yet felt terrified by the shadows that crept around her bed in the dark.

“
I
hereby call to order this meeting of the Justice Club, okay guys I’m just trying different things out, and party planning meeting,” Lindy announced with fake sternness.

Brad rolled his eyes and Eric snorted, but Mike (good looking but he was ten years younger than Taryn so it felt like cradle robbing) managed a mega-watt smile.

It was the first time she’d been back to Emma’s apartment, and she’d only decided to show up last minute. Matt was busy working on something she didn’t understand and, although he might have been too polite to say so, she was distracting him with his constant interruptions. For some reason Taryn just felt restless and couldn’t get it under control.

“’Justice Club’?” Brad smirked. “That’s a little lame, Lin.”

“Yeah, well, you come up with a better idea,” she sniffed.

They’d opted out of pizza tonight and were, instead, all gathered around the coffee table with Chinese. The town might have lacked fine dining options and alcohol sales but they managed to fit in three Chinese and four Mexican restaurants.

“Well, before you all start bickering, any news on the party?” Emma interjected.

“I got my costume,” Lindy boasted. She was wearing a bright pink velour track suit that ended just a few inches below her breasts, her tanned stomach a stark contrast to Taryn and Emma’s paleness. Her hair was glossy and perfectly styled, as it had been every time Taryn had seen her, and she wore full eye makeup. Taryn found herself wondering how long it took her to get ready every morning and grudgingly admired her dedication. It then struck her that she didn’t actually know what Lindy did.

“Lindy,” she butted in before anyone else could speak. “What do you do?”

They all turned to look at her and in that instant Taryn felt embarrassed by her bluntness. “Man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I just meant, are you a student, do you work somewhere?”

Flipping her pert ponytail over her shoulder Lindy sent Taryn a brilliant smile. “I’m taking some nursing classes, and I work at AMT. It’s a temp agency.”

“I just can’t see you being a nurse,” Brad muttered. “You’re terrible around sick people.”

“Yeah, well, I like kids,” she reasoned. “And I’m no dummy. Nurses are almost guaranteed jobs around here as soon as they graduate. Besides, you’re getting a degree in English, and we all know your command of the language isn’t going to win you any awards,” she added sweetly, batting her eyes.

Brad’s face reddened briefly and then he shrugged it off. “I want to teach,” he explained to Taryn, “or else maybe go into journalism. My dad runs the local paper, and I’m guaranteed a job there, but I’d like to know what the heck I’m doing with it and not just walk in and take over.”

“Well, that’s a good idea,” Taryn said encouragingly. “And Mike?”

“Nothing declared yet,” he shrugged. “Just taking some electives and general ed. Maybe criminal justice.”

“He works at the student union,” Emma volunteered, flashing Mike a smile. Taryn thought she might have caught a spark pass between the two of them. “That’s how he met Brad.”

“Work study,” Mike added.

“I’m taking a semester off,” Eric declared. “I got burnt out last spring and just needed some time. I work at a paint store here in town. The pay’s decent, and I don’t do much.”

“So, back to the party?” Lindy pouted, and they all turned their attention back to her.

“Yeah, well, Chris said no hard liquor, just kegs,” Brad warned. “I’ve got those covered. Emma’s coordinating food.”

“I’ve got accelerant and firewood covered,” Mike threw in. “My cousin has a tree removal business and said I could take what I could haul off.” Taryn remembered seeing the big pile of wood already stacked in front of the house. They probably wouldn’t need much more.

“And I’ve got music and lights,” Eric concluded. “So that’s everything.”

“If it rains we can take it inside, but I don’t want anyone on the second floor,” Emma warned. “The last thing we need is for someone to wander off or get hurt and have all hell break loose again.”

“Which brings us back to Cheyenne,” Eric intoned. “Any news?”

They all shook their heads and the room grew quiet, save for the radio softly playing Keith Urban in the background. A lot of his songs ran together for Taryn but this time she was a little grateful for the familiarity of their sound. All of a sudden she was feeling alone and vulnerable in this group of strangers, all younger than her and most likely to forget about her once she was gone. It was funny how music didn’t change and traveled with you through the rough times, weird times, and happy times. Like a best friend, almost.

“Do you think Evan’s going to come?” Emma asked, breaking the quietness.

“I don’t think so,” Eric replied. “He’s working nightshift at Sieko. I asked him. He said he’d try to get off but he didn’t think he could.”

“It’s not really his scene anyway,” Brad proclaimed. “He’s been going to church a lot, swore off drinking. Quit smoking or some shit like that. I think he found God.”

“Evan’s a nice guy,” Lindy sniffed, picking at the bright pink polish on her nails. “He can’t help it if he doesn’t want to slum it with you guys.”

“Remember, honey, you’re one of us, too.” Brad smiled as he spoke but there was a hardness in his eyes that made Taryn inspect him closer.

“Evan and I are friends and have been for a long time,” she retorted. “I talk to him all the time.”

“Who’s Evan?” Taryn asked, hoping it was an innocent question, although Lindy clearly had some interest there. Her normally confident stance was shaken a little and it was visible in the way she continued to pick at the polish, watching it flake way and land on the carpet.

“He’s a guy we went to school with,” Emma explained. “Nice guy, Lindy’s right. She and him went out a little in high school.”

“Yeah, but he only had eyes for Cheyenne,” Brad laughed.

“That’s not true, you asshole,” Lindy protested, raising her voice an octave. “We dated for almost six months, and he never even looked at another girl.”

Brad shrugged and Mike laughed. “Whatever. I thought they were going to hook up that night at Chris’. I don’t know; maybe they did. He told me he was looking for her, but I never saw them together.”

“That’s because he was with me almost all night,” Lindy pouted. Then, with a flounce, she got up and stalked down the small room to the bathroom, slamming the flimsy door to behind her.

“It’s a sore point for her,” Emma explained. “She’s had a crush on Evan off and on her whole life. I think maybe their timing has just never been right.”

“It’s because all he wants to use her for is to get laid,” Eric explained. Emma shot him a dirty look. “Hey, it’s true! Tell me he doesn’t ever want her except when she’s with another guy? They could be going out now, but they’re not.”

Since nobody spoke up in Evan’s defense, Eric continued. “I like him, he’s cool. But he’s not going to date Lindy. When it comes to relationships he’s more into the sweet, soft-spoken, innocent girls. Like Cheyenne. And that bugs the hell out of Lin.”

By the time she came back into the room, with slightly puffy cheeks and less lipstick than before, the conversation had rolled into something else, and Evan wasn’t mentioned again.

Driving back home in the dark, cranking up Kelly Willis’ “Teddy Boys” and singing as loud as she could stand it, Taryn felt a little lighter. Despite the fact that they weren’t her friends, it wasn’t her party, and this wasn’t her town she was starting to feel somewhat accepted. She’d never had a group of friends before; the feeling of being a part of something was intoxicating.

A
re you sure you want to do this?” Matt looked at Taryn with skepticism, and she nodded with outward confidence. Inside, she was shaking like Jell-O.

“Okay,” he signaled towards the front door with his head, since his arms were full. “Let’s do it then.”

Together, they walked out into the cold, damp evening and started for the woods. Taryn wore a heavy backpack, its weight pulling at her muscles almost immediately and making them sore. She, someone who backpacked Eastern Europe in college, was getting to be such a wimp. An achy back, painful joints, tired all the time… what was she, eighty? Pretty soon she’d be like her grandmother, slathering herself with Icy Hot every night and sleeping curled up next to a hot water bottle with an electric blanket cranked up high in June.

Matt carried a blanket, a bottle of wine, and a flashlight. At 6 pm it was already starting to grow dark and the sky was that murky blue color, not quite day and not quite night. She’d heard it referred to as the “gloaming” but only in books and songs; nobody she knew actually called it that. Too bad, really, because the word itself was pretty.

The woods were thick and dark and she was glad for Matt’s flashlight or else she was sure she’d have tripped over a root or random stick and gone sprawling down on her face. It didn’t take long to reach the other side and when they entered the field Taryn took over leading the way. She stopped in front of the house, near the wood pile but not too close in case there were snakes. She thought it was probably too cold for them, and too dark, but you never knew. She had images of one doing a sneak-attack on her, ninja style, and flying through the air. (In truth, despite all the places she’d stomped around, she’d only seen a live snake once and it was as scared as her as she was of it. They’d both quickly gone their separate ways, not looking back. But she was still terrified of them.)

“Here?” Matt asked. It was the first thing either one of them had said since leaving the house.

“Yeah, this feels right.”

Taryn slipped off her backpack and began pulling out the things she needed while Matt spread the blanket on the ground. Soon, Taryn had set up a makeshift altar with candles, oils, stones, and bundles of herbs. Matt fished the wooden matches, they had to be wooden, out of his pocket and handed them to her. She had to refer to her notes a few times to set up the little altar on the large shoebox she’d fished out of a bedroom closet but it only took her a few tries to get it right. Figuring it must have some energy considering where it had come from, a scarf she’d picked up in Bosnia acted as an altar cloth.

A large white pillar candle set in the middle. Flanking it were candles in various colors-blue, gold, indigo, purple, and silver. The myrrh Rob had sent them was carefully positioned by the white candle, the stones arranged according to the chart he’d drawn for them. Taryn also pulled a hand mirror from her bag. This she placed on the blanket next to her.

“You got everything?” Matt asked, settling in next to her. It wasn’t as cold as she’d thought it would be and now she felt stifled and a little claustrophobic in her big, bulky coat.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

Matt lit the candles, starting with the pillar. Their flames licked at the night sky, wavering in the slight breeze. Taryn was afraid they might be snuffed out, but the nearby wood pile served to shield them from the worst of it. While Matt busiest himself with the candles, Taryn folded her hands in her lap and began clearing her mind, meditating on the task at hand. Between her knees she balanced a photo of Cheyenne, a print off from an online article about her. She started by focusing on the things around her, the sound of the breeze rustling the few remaining leaves on the nearby trees, the chilly air nipping at her cheeks, the faint rays of warmth on her hands from the candles.

She’d never found it easy to clear her mind–just as soon as she tried to do it, it would be filled with random television show theme songs. With Matt sitting next to her, though, his energy provided a calming sensation that made concentrating much simpler. Sometimes she found the fact that Matt rarely showed emotions irritating. Other times, his stillness was necessary to her often frantic-running mind. She was counting on his energy, and whatever they had between them, to make the task at hand easier. And more successful. Without him and left to her own devices she’d probably accidentally summon a demon and open the gates to hell.

Once he’d lit the candles she could feel him soften besides her, his breathing steady and intentional. Matt didn’t have trouble meditating; he did it on a regular basis, saying it was good for the chakras. She wasn’t real sure what that meant, but it sounded important.

Once she felt her body relaxing and was fairly sure the Broadway cast of “A Chorus Line” wasn’t going to break out into song, Taryn began bringing Cheyenne’s image to mind. She let her imagination draw her long black hair, big brown eyes, and her compact body. She could see her there, on the farm, on her last night. Using her imagination Taryn tried to see her standing by the bonfire, talking to friends, drinking… Obviously, they couldn’t do this at her last known whereabouts since it was highly unlikely Travis Marcum’s parents would let them in (“Hi! Can we come in and cast a spell in your basement? We’re just going to summon a spirit; it won’t take long!”) the farm was the next best thing. And maybe even the better option since Taryn knew it.

Now, feeling slightly silly, Taryn began repeating the chant Rob sent them. She’d never been good at reciting poetry and actually saying a spell out loud made her feel self-conscious, even when she was alone, but when Matt joined in with her it was easier to shake off the uncomfortable vibe. His voice was soft, yet strong, and together they repeated it three times.

At first, nothing happened. Taryn peeked out of one eye, like a kid cheating at hide-n-seek. It had grown darker now, the candles casting eerie shadows around them, but Cheyenne’s spirit was not waiting nearby, magically conjured from their words and ritual. Still, Taryn wasn’t ready to give up. Again, she closed her eyes and repeated the chant, forcing herself to be loud and strong and to forget about what anyone would think if they found the two of them there.

Suddenly, she felt Matt’s hand closing over hers, his skin cool and smooth. The spark of electricity that passed between them was forceful, the shock enough to make her jump a little. She felt the heat of the flame grow stronger and when she opened her eyes she could the candle flames were much higher now, at least five inches, and danced in circles on their wicks. The air around them was a vacuum, sucking Taryn’s energy out of her in a slow, steady beat. She could no longer see the woodpile, the house, or the nearby forest. Matt’s breathing, something she’d been in tune with, was still. Willing herself not to break concentration, she fought down the fear rising in her stomach, shut out the images of someone sneaking up behind her and hurting her. She’d never felt so exposed and the fact they were out in the open tore at her and made her want to run. But this she pushed down, too, and tried only to think of Cheyenne.

Slowly, with her left hand so as not to let go of Matt, she picked up the mirror. The antique silver was heavy in her hand. Holding it at an angle so that she could see into it but not catch her own reflection, she peered into it and waited. The area behind her was dark, solid. She couldn’t see a thing–not even the glare of the moon or stars. It was as though there was a wall behind her, or an abyss.

But then, as her eyes strained on the glass, an image began to form. It was blurry at first, a ball of light that could’ve been a headlight coming onto the field or someone walking towards them with a flashlight. It had no definite shape or lines. As she watched, however, the shape changed and began moving. The light bounced up at a frantic speed, reaching for the sky. It became bigger, fuller. It wasn’t a solid color but rather a mixture of reds, yellows, and oranges. Taryn finally realized that what she was looking at was a bonfire. It was solid black around the fire, the way the space around them was now. But then, a figure formed. The red cowboy boots, the inky black hair, the long muscular legs… there was no doubt it was Cheyenne. She didn’t look at Taryn through the mirror or make contact with her. Taryn couldn’t see her eyes at all. In fact, she couldn’t even see her face. How could she when Cheyenne’s entire body was stretched out on the ground, engulfed by the flames?

“
I
feel like I should call Emma and ask more questions,” Taryn lamented.

“Honey, I think this is something best kept between the two of us now. We don’t know Cheyenne was burnt alive or anything. The fire was searched; you told me that. They would’ve found remains. Not to mention the fact that it would negate the whole idea of her going to Travis’ afterwards for the ‘after party,’” Matt pointed out.

Taryn stopped, her spoon of rocky road halfway to her mouth. Ice cream was her comfort food; she could eat it at any time–scared, cold, nervous, in sickness and in health…” Yeah, you’re right. On the other hand, Travis keeps insisting he’s innocent. Maybe he is.”

“Did you get a good feel for him at the restaurant?”

Taryn shrugged and took another bite. “Not a good one. He didn’t come across as very likable. But then, would you if you were being accused of murder? Besides, he can be an asshole. That doesn’t make him guilty.”

“True. I don’t know. I’ve never met a murderer before,” Matt mused.

Taryn snorted, nearly sending ice cream up her nose. “I have. And believe me, they come across a lot more normal than you’d think.”

“Yeah, well, I am seriously considering not letting you out of the house again.”

They were quiet, lost in companionable silence, the events of the night between them. Taryn still shuddered at the sight of Cheyenne’s body in the raging fire. She’d been lying down, lifeless. Maybe it was symbolic. Or maybe it was a different fire. She was sure of one thing, though: she’d seen something she was supposed to.

“Maybe another trip through the house?” she suggested at last. “I know I’ve been through it a dozen or more times, but I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something. Maybe I’m just not looking hard enough.”

“I don’t know. You’re trying awfully hard. Don’t stretch yourself too thin,” Matt warned her, his eyebrows creased in concern.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“Did you see or feel anything?”

Matt stared at the ceiling light. It flickered off and on, a short in it or maybe a bulb trying to burn out. Taryn knew he’d have it fixed by morning. “I didn’t see anything, but I felt something. Most of it came from you. I could feel you burning up, like you had a fever. And I couldn’t let go. Not that I would,” he added hurriedly, “but I don’t think I could’ve even if I’d wanted to.”

“I think it was because of you that it happened. I don’t know if I could’ve done it on my own,” Taryn admitted.

Matt was right, though. As much as she wanted to talk to someone else about what she’d seen and heard, it was probably best to keep it to herself for now. She’d never been good at playing it close to the vest but there was something off about the whole thing, and she didn’t want to end up somewhere she shouldn’t be. Again.