Haunting the Night (4 page)

My first day in Charleston did not provide the warm and bright escape I had been looking forward to. For one thing, it was raining. Hard. And my plan to spend time with Annalise fell apart when she realized that the major paper she thought was due in two weeks was actually due in a few days. So I ended up spending the morning after my arrival holed up in Annalise’s apartment, flipping through the channels on her tiny TV, listening to the rain pelt her windows and trying not to think about the one thing that occupied my brain.

The shadow creature had followed me to Charleston.

I didn’t want to think about how, but I had an image in my head of it running alongside the car as Annalise and I drove down the rain-soaked highway, an image that caused me to shudder. Of course, that reaction was nothing compared to the moment I saw it outside Annalise’s bedroom window, pointing one dark, foggy finger into the distance.

Seeing the creature only a few hours after my arrival affirmed my worst fear: I could not escape the thing. Running from it would not work, and there was no place to hide. It wanted something from me, and I needed to figure out what that something was before it became too big to avoid.

I glanced at the clock. Back at school, it was already second period. I wanted to hear Noah’s voice, though, so I called his cell. It went straight to voice mail, but it was nice to hear a friendly hello. I left a brief message telling him I missed him. It was funny how when I was in class, all I could think about sometimes was what I would be doing after the final bell rang. But when I wasn’t in school, I thought about what I would be doing if I was there, what classes I would be sitting in or who I’d see at lunch. In a strange way, I missed the familiar routine.

I called Avery. Surprisingly, she picked up.

“Aren’t you in class?”

“Hello to you, too, Charlotte. And no, I’m not in class. I’m working on a Prom-related project, so I got out of study hall. Speaking of which, have you changed your mind about coming?”

I laughed. “Why? Are ticket sales slow?”

She scoffed. “Hardly. In fact, we sold out. But I reserved two tickets just in case you change your mind.”

“Thanks, but that wasn’t necessary.” Even if I wanted to go, it was too late. Annalise was so busy with school that she wouldn’t be able to drive me back home and return in time for her deadline. And Noah wouldn’t have time to rent a tux. I wasn’t going to Prom, and that was final. A cheesy dance featuring bad lighting and mediocre music was not the venue to make lasting memories. I wasn’t missing anything. I was simply avoiding a long, sentimental evening.

So why did I keep thinking about it?

Avery filled me in on the daily gossip, which basically involved who was going to Prom and the melodramatic meltdowns taking place in the girls’ bathroom.

“The entire sophomore class should be committed,” she said. “They’re desperate for a date, and every day they wear less and less. I swear, it’s like a bathing suit competition over here.”

“Their desperation means that you’ve put together an event people are dying to go to,” I said. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“I guess.” She sighed. “When I decided to serve as chairperson I didn’t think it would come with all the drama. I thought it would be about selecting main courses and table decorations.”

“You sound really stressed.” I wanted to be there for my best friend the same way she had been there for me. But I was over a hundred miles away. There was nothing I could do except listen to her justified complaints.

“It’s a dance,” Avery said. “I keep telling myself that: it’s just a dance. But people have such high expectations. They don’t see it as a dance. They see it as a defining moment in their lives.”

I almost smiled. Did people really believe that a defining moment was one that was meticulously planned? Weren’t the truly important moments of our lives the ones that happened almost accidentally, without any preparation? I wasn’t ready for my mom to get hurt. I wasn’t ready for my first kiss with Noah. Those were defining moments, and I had stumbled into them without planning my outfit or bringing a camera.

“In the end, it will be a great evening,” I reassured Avery. “People will remember it. They’ll talk about it for years.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she admitted. “If it’s great, I’m happy. If it’s a train wreck, I’ll have to endure a legacy of organizing the worst prom ever.”

“Is it bad if I tell you that no one will really remember ten years from now?”

“But they will!” I could almost see Avery shake her head. “They’ll remember how they felt that night.”

“You can’t control that. Whether or not they have a good time is up to them. All you can do is make sure the decorations are perfect and the food is hot.”

“Yeah.” Avery was quiet. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I can’t fix everything.”

“Focus on the things you can fix,” I said. “Make it beautiful. That’s all you can do. And trust me, you’re good at making things beautiful.”

She laughed, and the sound was a relief to me. “Deal. Thanks, Charlotte. I’m glad you called.”

“Bye, Avery. Have a great day.”

“See you on Monday, Charlotte.”

Frustrated with my television options, I turned off the TV. Outside, the rain showed no sign of letting up, and although the weather was a good excuse to stay inside, I had work to do. If Zelden wanted to ignore my calls, I would have to track him down some other way. And I knew the one person in town who could help me.

I searched the closets for an umbrella then figured that if my sister had one, she had taken it with her to class. I settled for a ball cap and a wrinkled yellow poncho I found stuffed behind her winter gear. No one would accuse me of good fashion sense in the getup, although there was a chance I would be mistaken for a crossing guard.

Luckily, I didn’t have to walk far. Annalise had pointed out the library to me when we drove through campus the night before. Three blocks and one soaked poncho later, I arrived at the building. My wet shoes squeaked across the shiny floor, causing students to look up from their tables and glare at me. I ignored their disapproving looks and hurried to the main desk. “I’m looking for the genealogy room,” I whispered to the student reading behind the counter. He barely looked up.

“Upstairs, end of the hall.”

Relieved that he didn’t ask me for a student ID and not wanting to attract more attention to myself, I took the elevator. The quick ride gave me a chance to wring the water out of my baseball cap. It left a dark puddle, and I hoped the serious-looking students who got on when I stepped out didn’t think I’d peed the floor.

The genealogy room occupied a small corner at the end of the hall. It was decorated with old photographs showing the construction of the library in its different stages. I was the only one in the room, so I spent time examining each of the framed black-and-white pictures until a woman walked into the room.

“May I help you?” Her question was marked with both surprise and suspicion. I guessed not many students visited the place.

“I’m looking for Mills Davidson,” I said. “He’s kind of helping me with a project.”

“He’s in the basement right now. Perhaps I could assist you with this project?”

I wasn’t planning on this. Mills was the only one I trusted to help me. Anyone else might think I was a stalker.

“Um, do you know when he might be available?”

The woman frowned. “I could call him for you, I suppose, Miss?”

“Charlotte Silver.”

A smiled replaced her frown. “Are you Annalise’s sister?”

I nodded.

“She’s been talking about your visit! We adore Annalise here. She brings us bagels every Monday.” The woman went to her desk, hit a button on the phone and asked Mills to come upstairs. “I’m so sorry to hear about your mother, dear. My prayers are with your family.”

“Thank you.” Her words were kind, but they also made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure how to respond. Thankfully, Mills arrived a moment later.

“Charlotte!” He gave me a quick hug. “Tired of being cooped up in the apartment, huh?”

“Yeah.” The woman was still at her desk and I needed to speak with Mills alone. I lowered my voice. “Actually, I need your help with something.”

“Sure.” He looked over at the woman. “Sue, I noticed a problem downstairs. Someone is stacking the census reports instead of shelving them.”

“What?” Sue got up from her desk. “How many times I have I told them not to do that?”

She rushed out of the room, muttering something about careless student workers.

I smiled. “You certainly know how to clear a room.”

Mills shrugged. “One of my many gifts. Let’s sit down and you can tell me what’s going on.”

We sat across from each other at the wide wooden table in the center of the room. “So, I know you’re an expert at research and finding people online,” I began. “And I need information about someone. The thing is, I really don’t want anyone to know about this. Not even Annalise.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t keep secrets from your sister.”

“I know.” I looked down at my hands. “But it’s not exactly a secret. I just don’t want you to tell her yet.”

“Why don’t you explain what you need, and I’ll let you know if I can keep it quiet for a little while.”

“Okay.” What I wanted was simple. Asking for it was not. “I need to know where Marcus is buried.”

“Marcus?”

“Marcus Archer, the guy I—the guy who died.”

“I see.” Mills took off his black glasses, inspected them then put them back on. “Charlotte, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

His reaction was a possibility I had considered, so I had my rationale ready.

“I can’t stop thinking about him, about who he was. And I don’t think I can move on until I know more.”

“How would that help?” Mills asked. “What if it makes you feel even worse?”

I looked at him. “I can’t feel worse. Please believe me, Mills. I cannot. Feel. Worse.”

My words had an effect. He frowned, but I could tell he was thinking about it. “I’m guessing you’ve already done a basic search online?”

“I found his obituary, but it doesn’t say where he’s buried. But it did say that Zelden held a memorial service at his house. So I was thinking you could track down Zelden for me.”

I explained that I had tried calling numerous times but hadn’t been able to get through. If Mills could find out where Zelden was—I thought he might be holding one of his seminars somewhere—then I could call his hotel and let him know that I wasn’t giving up.

Sue returned from the basement and sat down at her desk. Mills glanced at her then turned back to me. “Charlotte, I don’t like this.” His voice was soft. “Before I agree to help you, I want you to answer me this: what do you want to accomplish?”

I wanted to make the shadow creature go away. But that wasn’t the answer I gave Mills.

“I’m hoping to find closure.”

I thought it was the right answer, the one Mills would respond to. But he didn’t say anything for a while.

“So,” I prodded. “Will you help me find Zelden?”

“No.” Before I could say anything else, Mills stood up. “But I’ll take you to Marcus.”

The Courtyard Café looked like I remembered it. The small yellow building was surrounded by a wide porch and leafy bushes of blue hydrangea. For some reason, this surprised me. I had changed since my last visit here—shouldn’t the place have changed, too?

I followed Mills onto the porch. He had insisted we have lunch together so we could talk some more. I was still trying to figure out how he knew where Marcus was buried, but Mills wasn’t saying anything yet.

Once inside the Café, I was pleased to discover that it was quiet, with only a few tables occupied. A perky waitress with a thick southern accent showed us to a small table. It was next to a window, which I liked. I removed my cap and ran a hand through my still-wet hair, scattering rain droplets on the menu.

“Get anything you’d like,” Mills said. “My treat.”

I already knew what I wanted. There was only one thing I craved when I visited Charleston: shrimp and grits. Mills ordered the same.

While we waited for our food, I watched the people on the street. Black umbrellas seemed to sail down the street as anxious tourists rushed to their destinations. People tried to snap pictures without getting their cameras wet, which was awkwardly funny.

“Do you remember your first visit here?” Mills asked.

I turned my gaze away from the window. “Yes.”

It was the previous summer. My family was working on a new DVD, and my sister and I were helping. But our experience at the Courtyard Café was an unsettling one. Nothing had been the same since.

“Does it feel different?”

It didn’t. There was no echo of the chilling cold I had once experienced, no remnants at all of my encounters in this place. It was a strange relief.

Our food arrived. Mills and I ate in silence, and I liked to think it was because we were both enjoying the food so much. But I knew he was getting ready to tell me what he knew—and why he knew it. After all, Mills had never met Marcus—or Dr. Zelden, for that matter—so how was he connected to either of them?

“I attended the memorial service,” Mills said. I looked up, surprised. “For Marcus,” he clarified. “I was there, at Zelden’s estate.”

His statement was so unexpected that I could do nothing but stare at him, my brow wrinkled in confusion.

“After everything that happened, Zelden began calling your house. Sometimes three, four times a day,” Mills went on. “He was really worried.”

“Only about himself,” I muttered. He sure wasn’t in any rush to answer my calls.

“Trisha answered most of the calls, but sometimes I did, too.” He shrugged. “And you’re right. He was concerned about what we would tell the police and if we were going to include anything about him on the next DVD.

“But he was also dealing with Marcus’s death and his own injuries.” Mills poked his fork into his half-empty dish of grits. I had thoroughly devoured mine.

“When he told me there would be a memorial service, I offered to go so I could represent your family.”

“I had no idea.”

“Good.” Mills nodded. “You were all going through so much. I wanted to handle something, you know?”

He talked briefly about the service itself. Zelden was there, of course, along with his new assistant. A few friends from the area had shown up. Marcus’s older brother was also there, but not his father. There were some prayers and a few readings from the Bible. It lasted less than an hour.

I leaned forward. “So where is he buried?”

Mills smiled sadly. “He’s not.”

“I don’t—”

“Charlotte, he was cremated. His ashes were scattered.”

Why hadn’t I considered that possibility? All this time I had been looking for a gravestone. What could I do now that there was no final resting place? How could I get the shadow creature to leave me in peace if I couldn’t pay my respects?

“You told me you could take me to Marcus,” I reminded him.

“I know where some of his ashes were scattered.” Mills said that while his brother had taken an urn home to be buried in Michigan, Zelden had kept some of the ashes. The small group attending the memorial service had traveled to the Charleston Harbor, near the aquarium, to scatter those ashes on the water.

“If you’re ready, we can go right now,” Mills offered. “It’s not a long walk.”

But I wasn’t ready. I wanted to arrive prepared, with a bouquet of flowers and a few nice words to say. I wanted to do this right, so the shadow creature would have no excuse to keep tormenting me.

“Tomorrow,” I decided. “Can we do it tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.” As he opened his wallet to pay our bill, I caught a glimpse of the shiny silver fragment of balloon he kept there. Maybe that was my sign that I was doing the right thing, the necessary thing. I hoped so.

“I miss you.”

I smiled into the phone. “I miss you, too, Noah.”

It was just before dinner. I had stepped out of a hot shower and into a fluffy robe when my cell phone rang. I rubbed a towel to my wet hair as Noah talked about his day. I loved the little details: the pop quiz in history, the chicken tenders served at lunch. I loved his voice. He could recite the phone book and I would like it.

“What about you?” he asked. “How’s Charleston?”

“Wet.” A quick glance toward the window showed me that the storm showed no signs of letting up. The sky had deepened from a pale gray to a deep granite. Black clouds moved fast across the sky, as if they were being chased by something even darker.

“Tell me more about school.” I wanted to simply listen, without having to talk too much in return. Everything I needed to say to Noah felt like it had to be done in person.

“Prom mania has gotten worse,” Noah said. “It’s like a disease around here. The freshmen girls are basically wearing bathing suits trying to get a junior to ask them to go.”

I laughed. “I hope they’re not coming after you.”

“I think they know that the only girl I want to see in a bathing suit is you.”

“Yeah, well, I doubt I’ll get a chance to wear mine. This rain isn’t supposed to let up until Saturday night.”

“Prom night.” He said it quietly, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it aloud at all.

“You didn’t want to go, did you?” I felt a twinge of guilt. Was Prom more important to him than it was to me?

“No, not at all.” He gave a short laugh. “I really didn’t want to rent a tux.”

“Okay.” But something in his voice struck me as being off.

I didn’t have a chance to ask him anything more. Annalise came home, dripping wet and cradling a soggy bag of groceries. “Sorry I’m late. It’s awful out there.”

“Noah? I have to go. Talk with you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure. Say hi to Annalise for me.”

I said goodbye, dressed quickly and joined my sister in her little kitchen. “Special dinner for us tonight,” she said as she unloaded the grocery bag. “You like rainbow trout?”

“I think so.” Truthfully, I couldn’t tell most fish apart. As long as it was served with sauce and lacked tiny bones, it was fine with me. I grabbed a pot for the rice while Annalise arranged ingredients on the counter.

“What did you do today?”

I measured three cups of water and turned on the stove. “Besides trying to avoid drowning? I went to the library and had lunch with Mills.”

She smiled. “That’s nice. He’s stopping by later with dessert.”

The water was boiling, so I dumped in the box of rice pilaf and placed a lid on the pot. Annalise hummed as she sautéed butter and chopped some parsley.

“This
is
a special dinner,” I said. “When did you become so fancy?”

She shook her head. “Using fresh herbs does not make me fancy. Tell me more about your day while you cut this into wedges.” She handed me a ripe lemon.

“We had lunch at the Courtyard Café.”

“You did?”

I cut the lemon in half and pried some of the seeds out with my knife. “Yeah. It was nice, actually.”

“I know. I’ve been back there, too.”

This surprised me. It was less than a year ago that Annalise had declared she would never, ever return to the place where she had once felt overcome with sadness. In fact, her experience at the Café resulted in a serious threat to leave my family’s paranormal investigations behind forever. At the time, I didn’t understand her fierce fear. But now, I knew exactly what it was like to want to turn away from our family’s work. With Mom absent, I had no desire to return to the occupation that had made up so much of my life. That part of me was also absent.

Satisfied with my lemon wedges, I leaned against the counter to watch Annalise finish preparing dinner. “Why did you go back?” I asked.

She flipped the fish filets with a spatula. “I wanted to know that it was over. I wanted to walk through those doors and not feel anything.”

“And?”

“And it was fine. A nonevent. I walked in, ate a meal and left without ever once feeling anything strange. Case closed.” She turned to me. “Grab some plates. Dinner’s almost done.”

As I set the table, I mulled over Annalise’s words and my brief visit to the Café. I hadn’t felt anything, either. And if the occurrences we had experienced there could fade completely, so could my encounters with the shadow. Still, I wondered what the shadow was, exactly.

My family believed that people could leave behind an imprint of intense feelings after they died. Fear or terror was sometimes strong enough to echo for years, and so was simple repetition. We had investigated places where a rocking chair would move nearly every day at the same time, or a window would open and shut almost on a schedule. It fit with our theories that someone experiencing profound regret or guilt could also leave a trace of that emotion behind. Was the entity that was haunting the night simply the residual energy of my own remorse? Or was it more connected to Marcus’s energy?

The shadow creature’s presence in my life was tied to Marcus. It had to be. But if my search for answers led nowhere, what would I do? Was I destined to be followed by the eerie, unpredictable being for the rest of my life? Maybe pursuing Marcus was a bad idea. What if it was better to leave his ghost alone?

Annalise brought dinner to the table. “Smells great,” I said.

“I feel bad that our plans have been derailed.” She scooped rice onto her plate. “I had our entire weekend mapped out, but between this weather and my class paper, it’s fallen apart.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I didn’t mind having the apartment to myself. It was kind of nice to be alone. I missed Noah and Avery, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had hours of quiet time, away from my house and the memories it held.

Mills arrived as we were finishing dinner. He carried a bouquet of white lilies in one hand and a key lime pie in the other. Annalise beamed as she took the flowers from him and kissed his cheek.

Mills took off his wet jacket and began slicing the pie. Annalise went to find a vase for her flowers. “I haven’t said anything to Annalise about our plans for tomorrow,” he said to me. “But I don’t like keeping secrets, so I’m going to tell her after you’re back home.”

“Okay.” I appreciated his discretion. I didn’t want my sister to worry.

Annalise returned with the vase. “I have to meet my study group at noon tomorrow. Do you have plans?”

“I’m off tomorrow.” Mills slid slices of the dark yellow pie onto plates. “I thought Charlotte and I could go to the aquarium.”

Annalise kissed his cheek again. “Have I told you lately that I think you’re the world’s most amazing boyfriend?”

Mills blushed and adjusted his glasses. “Um, no.”

“Well, you are.”

I looked away as Annalise nuzzled his neck. Their intimacy made me long for Noah. After dessert, I left Annalise and Mills in the living room so they could have their privacy.

I flipped open my phone. Still no call from Zelden. Not that it mattered now, but it would have been nice if he could have acknowledged me. I hated being brushed off. I looked out the rain-streaked window in Annalise’s bedroom. Night had fallen while we had been having dinner, and a soft amber glow from the lamp posts outside filled the room. I stood up and went to the window so I could gaze out onto the empty street.

The glass was foggy with condensation. I wiped my hand against it, smearing the cold water in an arc. The fuzzy orange light of the lamppost illuminated the wet street but nothing more. I focused on the slender black steel, an elegant reminder of Charleston’s history.

And then I saw the shadow.

Like a swift animal, the black shape sailed past the light. I should have been expecting a visit, should have known it would still be there. Again, it looked up at me and pointed toward the harbor.

“I know,” I whispered.

My ragged breath fogged the window, and when I wiped at the glass, the shadow was gone, vanished into the curtain of night. I hoped it would be the final time I would ever see the thing.