Party Games (14 page)

“First they kill someone. Then they leave a stupid note. It's so sick,” Brendan said.

“We know who is writing them,” I said. “We saw them break into the house. But—
why
? Why are they killing us? What do they want?” My voice cracked again.

Eric moved away from me. I watched him walk off to be by himself at the side of the house. I could feel my panic rising, like the ocean tide climbing higher … higher. I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe, like I was about to drown.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Brendan, studying me, his face filled with concern. “You okay?”

“No,” I said. “Not really.” A tear rolled down my cheek.

He held onto me. “What are we going to do?”

I couldn't answer. I just stared at him. He looked totally lost. His eyes kept darting around crazily.

“I should ask if
you're
okay,” I said. “You don't look so good.”

I let out a short cry of surprise as he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me. His cheek felt blazing hot against mine. He let go quickly and turned away as if embarrassed. He didn't say a word. I watched him walk over to Eric, taking long strides.

I rubbed my face. I could still feel the heat of his cheek on mine.

Weird.

That was not what I expected.

Eric turned to Brendan, his expression tense. His hands were balled into tight fists. “What are we going to do?” he demanded. “What is the plan here?”

Brendan lowered his head. “I don't have a plan. I … I'm trying to think of a way to get us home safely. But…” His voice trailed off.

“Should we search the island?” Eric asked. “See if anyone else came here this weekend? Someone who could help us?”

“The island is empty,” Brendan said. “I know this for a fact. There are only eight other houses on the island. And a few fishing cottages. No one here.”

“But maybe someone left a boat we can use,” Spider said.

“The boats have all been taken up for winter,” Brendan answered. “And no one else has a catamaran or a boat big enough for all of us.”

“But even if there's a canoe…” Spider insisted, rubbing a hand tensely through his curly brown hair. “Someone could take it to town and get help.”

Brendan shook his head. “No one leaves canoes out after the season.”

Kenny took a few steps toward Brendan. “We could break into a garage or a shed. Take a canoe.”

“That's not as easy as it sounds,” Brendan told him. “We'd need tools to break locks.”

Kenny scowled at his cousin. “We have to try
something
. Do you want to get out of here or not?”

“I want to get away from here as much as you do,” Brendan said. “Think I want to stay here and watch us get picked off one by one? I'm thinking hard, Kenny. I'm thinking as hard as I can.”

Kenny took a few steps toward Brendan, as if challenging him. “And what are you thinking, Brendan?”

Brendan hesitated. “I'm thinking we need to stick together. We need to stick close together. Keep an eye on everyone.”

Kenny laughed … a harsh, scornful laugh. “Stick together? That's the best you can do?”

“Take it easy, Kenny,” Morgan said. “Picking a fight with Brendan isn't going to help anyone.”

“Brendan always was a wimp,” Kenny muttered. “Stick together. That's the best Fearless Leader can do. Two people are dead. Someone is playing a game with us. Writing those notes. Someone thinks that killing us is … is … funny.”

Brendan sighed. “Patti and Kerry … They went off on their own,” he said. “I'm only saying it's safer to stay with the group.”

“Maybe we could hide in one of the other houses or cabins on the island,” April suggested. “It wouldn't be so hard to break into a house, right? We could hide till the new boat pilot arrives.”

“But what if there
is
no new boat pilot?” Kenny demanded.

The discussion continued, but I couldn't bear to hear any more. I covered my ears with my hands. I had a loud buzzing in my head. Tension. Tension and panic.

I couldn't stand there one more second. I couldn't stand there seeing Kerry's legs stretching out from under the slab. Kerry's crushed body underneath.

I started to back away from the others. My head spinning, I reached the house and went inside. I pushed the door closed behind me. The buzzing in my ears faded. So did the voices of my friends.

Are any of us going to survive?

Are any of us going to get off this island and back to our homes?

I tried to force the questions from my mind. But how could I?

I gazed down the long hall, dark as a tunnel. I couldn't hear a sound over the low buzzing in my ears. My throat ached again. I felt like I was choking. I had to get water.

I started down the hall, trying to remember how to get back to the ballroom. My legs felt unsteady as I walked. My knees wouldn't work. I had to force myself forward.

I knew Brendan said we should stick together. But my throat was throbbing. I really needed water.

My footsteps scraped softly in the empty hall. I kept glancing from side to side, expecting someone to jump out at me. My parched throat throbbed.

I turned a corner, peered into the inky darkness—and stopped.

A thin rectangle of light escaped the room in front of me. The door was nearly closed. I froze and listened hard. My whole body tingled with fear.

Someone was in that room.

I forced myself to the edge of the doorway. Stepping into the beam of light, I pushed the door open a few inches more. Peering inside, I could see tall shelves of books against the wall. This was some kind of library or study.

I gripped the side of the door. I wanted to slide it open more so that I could see the front of the room. But in my fear, I slipped—and pushed the door all the way open.

I stumbled into the room—and stared at the woman behind a long table. I had to squint. She stood in a gray mist, as if the room was filled with fog.

She didn't look up at the sound of my clumsy entrance. I gazed at her scraggly white hair down to her shoulders. She had tiny black eyes over a long, pointed nose. She wore a gray, high-necked blouse over a long gray skirt. Her face, her skin all matched, the same gray as her clothing.

She had no color at all. As if I was staring at a black-and-white photo. She kept billowing in and out of focus as I studied her through the mist.

She stood behind the table, head down, working on something. I focused on the table—and held my hand over my mouth to keep from uttering a cry.

The table was covered with animal parts. I saw squirrel heads and a pile of squirrel tails. A cat's head. A stack of gleaming, round eyeballs. Claws. Paws. And a small, black dog's body without legs.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't stop myself. I took a step forward on trembling legs. And then another, watching her lowered head, her hand slowly moving back and forth.

As I drew closer, the fog seemed to lift. And I saw what she was working on so intently.

One side of her blouse was raised. And I could see a long, narrow opening in her skin under her ribs. She had a black needle in her hand—and she was stitching the opening in her body, sewing the skin together.

Victoria Fear?

The ghost of Victoria Fear?

I didn't want to believe it. But there she was. I was watching her sew herself together.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. But before I could make a move, she raised her gray face, the patchy white hair falling against her drawn cheeks.

She saw me. Her mouth tilted into a jagged smile. She raised the long needle, the black thread trailing beneath it.

“Come closer, dear.” Her voice was as dry as wind rattling dead, brown leaves. “Come closer. It won't hurt for long. I promise.”

 

24.

ANOTHER INTRUDER

 

I finally found my voice. A scream burst from my throat. I spun away from her, that long needle and the slender rip in her side lingering in my mind.

I took off running, out the door, into the hall. My head spinning, the floor tilted up to meet me.
Which way? Which way?

I finally remembered. I turned the corner and, breathing hard, ran full speed toward the back door. I didn't slow up when I saw the other kids trudge into the house, led by Brendan.

Brendan stopped short when he saw me barreling toward him. His mouth dropped open. “Rachel? Where were you? What's wrong?”

“Victoria Fear!” I cried breathlessly, gasping for breath, straining to get the words out.

Brendan hugged me. “Whoa. I'm glad you're okay.”

The others stared in confusion.

I took a step back, my heart racing. “Victoria Fear! I saw her!” I cried. “A ghost. A ghost, Brendan. I saw Victoria Fear's ghost.”

Brendan shook his head. “Rachel, I'm not getting this. You saw the security video. We have two murderers in the house. Why are you doing this ghost thing?”

“I … I saw her,” I insisted.

The others chimed in, everyone talking at once. “Rachel, did you hit your head?”

“You saw a ghost? Have you totally lost it?”

“Is she okay? Is she in shock because of Kerry?”

Brendan stepped forward and tried to pull me into another hug. But I pushed his arms away. The words burst out of me in a torrent. “You've got to believe me. I saw her. I saw the animals she was stuffing. And she was sewing … sewing herself up. Brendan, she—”

He pressed a finger over my mouth. “Show us,” he said. “Rachel, take a deep breath. Then show us. Take us there.”

I followed his instruction. I took a deep breath, held it in, then let it go. But it didn't calm me. “She was a ghost, Brendan. I saw her. I'm not crazy.”

The other kids stared at me, murmuring to themselves. April stepped up to me. “You're in shock, Rachel. We all are. But we can't start seeing ghosts. We need to—”

“Show us,” Brendan repeated. “Show us the room. Where did you see the ghost?”

“It … it had all these bookshelves,” I stammered. “And she stood behind a long table.”

“The library on the first floor?” Brendan said. “Okay. Follow me.”

He took long strides down the hall. I hurried to keep up with him. The others followed, silent now.

We turned the corner. I saw the room, the door still open, the bright rectangle of light tilting out onto the hall floor.

“That's it,” I whispered. “She's in there.”

We stopped a few feet from the door, as if bracing ourselves for what we were about to see. Then Brendan and I stepped into the room together. We gazed at the tall bookshelves. Then we both turned to the front of the room.

I let out a sharp cry.

“There's no one in here,” Brendan said.

The other kids had crept into the room and stood huddled against the bookshelves on the back wall.

“No,” I whispered. “I saw her.”

“No one here,” Brendan said, still staring at the front of the room. At the long table, which was bare. Completely bare. The dark wood gleaming under the ceiling light.

Brendan turned to me. I couldn't read his expression. Was he worried about me?

“I didn't imagine it,” I said. “She was in here. She had animal parts … A dog's body. She stood right there.”

I turned and saw the other kids studying me intently. No one said a word. But I could read their thoughts.

Rachel has lost it.

Rachel is seeing ghosts.

Rachel is crazy.

“I'm not crazy!” I screamed. And then I turned and bolted toward the door. Without thinking, without even realizing what I was doing, I pushed past April and Geena, shoved them out of my way, and burst out into the hall.

I had to get away. I had to escape their eyes, their hard expressions, judging me, feeling sorry for me. Poor Rachel, who has lost her mind.

I ran blindly down the hall, turned, and kept running down another long hall. This one dark except for pale gray light filtering in from a high window at the far end.

I could hear Brendan calling my name, shouting for me to stop.

But I kept running.

Kept running until I saw something. Or someone.

A blur. Just a blur of color against the gray light. Someone crossed the hall up ahead of me. Someone running fast.

And I recognized him. Even in the darkness, I recognized him. But it was impossible. It couldn't be.

Mac? Mac Garland?

No. No way.

Why would Mac be here?

“Hey—Mac?” I shouted his name. I took off, running again. “Mac? Is that you? I saw you!”

Did he follow me here?

Why?

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wasn't Mac. But I thought I recognized his straight, dark-blond hair. Recognized the way he stands straight up when he runs. (I once told him he ran like a giraffe.)

“Mac? I saw you! Mac?” My voice rang off the hallway walls, shrill and high.

Peering into the darkness, I slowed to a stop. No sign of him. I'd lost him somehow. Did I make a wrong turn? Was he hiding in one of the rooms?

I bent over and put my hands on my knees. I took a deep breath, then another, trying to get my heart to stop pounding.

I straightened up, my heart still racing. I gasped when I heard rapid footsteps. Hard thuds. Behind me. Coming fast.

“Huh?” I whirled around.

And saw someone running hard, hands outstretched as if to grab me. A man in a black mask.

 

25.

MORE SCREAMS

 

I froze with a gasp. I raised my arms in front of me, shielding myself. Too late to run. Too late. I squeezed my hands into tight fists. Could I fight him off?

“Rachel?” He called to me. And as he hurtled closer, I saw that it wasn't a masked man, after all. His face had been covered by the deep shadow of the hallway.