Phobic (38 page)

It gave us enough money to find an apartment. A modern one—something built within the last fifty years. And Joel has agreed for me to get a job once I turn sixteen next month.

Minutes earlier, we brought a space heater and placed it strategically close to a piece of dry, sagging wallpaper that peeled away from the wall and hung toward the floor in the dining room.

“You knew what was going on, didn’t you?” I asked Joel as he plugged it into the wall and turned the knob to high.

He kept his sight on the crippled wainscoting. “Dad told me. But I didn’t want to do it.”

My father. The type of man who promoted murder. Who consigned his son to do the same. The thought gave me icy shudders regardless of the cold, desiccated house.

“Don’t blame you,” I said.

Joel’s head stayed bent toward his chest. “I’m sorry, Pipes. I should have told you. But I thought like Dad—the less you knew, the better. Dad told me some of it before he died. And then Ada appeared to me after his death. She got me to go downstairs to talk to Garrett.”

It didn’t surprise me in the least. I waited for him to go on, staying silent, enjoying this newfound camaraderie between us.

“After I heard what Garrett wanted me to do—what he had Dad do, I threatened to burn down the house.” Joel lifted his eyes to mine, striking me by the glossy sadness in them. “Garrett said he’d kill us, Pipes. Both of us. And that Ada wouldn’t allow the house to burn because she wanted to keep living. Dad couldn’t destroy the house either, but he wouldn’t subject somebody else to the life he was forced into since he was a kid. So he moved the whole thing.”

Hmm, maybe my dad wasn’t as deranged as I thought. Still, I wondered how Garrett could follow up on a threat to kill us when he needed one of
us
to get his final victim for him. I wasn’t about to mention how the threat was probably an empty one.

Joel straightened, and I rubbed a hand along his back. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “Sorry you had to deal with all of that.”

Heat quickly filled the room, making it impossible for us to say anything else. The two of us did a sort of jump-and-roll across the decaying porch which had threatened to collapse on our way back in.

Excitement bubbled up my throat. I couldn’t believe we would be rid of it. I glanced back at the wilted vines crawling along the gazebo, to the once vibrant patch of roses that were now barren and skeletal. The sight brought up my last reservation. “Kick the house, Joel,” I said.

“Uhhh—”

“Just do it.”

I closed my eyes. The sun beat red under my lids, but I wanted to be sure. After a few ticks I peeled one eye open.

“Did you do it?”

“Yeah, I did.” His brow was creased.

“Do it again.”

I kept my eyes open that time. I had to see, to know for sure. Hands in his pockets, Joel strode over and whacked the fallen porch with his foot. The entire wooden entry swayed. And I didn’t feel a thing.

“Time to torch it,” Joel and I said in unison, and then laughed.

Together, we moseyed back out front to the street, where Todd now joins us. Todd slings his arm around me, and the three of us stand. And wait. Lives and memories—and not just my own—are about to go up in flames.

Joel’s forehead pinches in concern, and I know he’s wondering the same thing I am—if this is really going to work. Things inside are so decayed and dried. It shouldn’t take much. And with the space heater it should look like an accident. Todd wears his adorable grin, ready for the show.

I gaze up at the intricate, lacy eaves, the shutters hanging on by hinges, the edge of the roof peering back down at me. The house gives off no warnings, no groans of disapproval, but even if it did, I doubt I would care.

A brief hint of smoke tickles my nostrils, and orange light gleams through the dining room window. The sight lifts me inside, and I look to Joel, who beams back at me.
Yes!

It isn’t long before heat hits my exposed skin. The three of us huddle and wait, watching the orange flames pierce the sky. Ravenous, they rise and devour the exterior, licking their tongues through windows and back into the center. And a short time later sirens wail and cry, and firemen stand guard with their hoses, ready to suppress the powerful inferno.

With a great, shuddering screech, the upper level collapses, giving in to the hotness. Smoke fills the air, swarming, and I gaze at its upward trail to the sky. The neighbors have stepped out and watch with us. I wonder what they’re thinking, how much they know. A few of the small children let out catcalls and shouts. And I want to join them, though mine chime off inside my chest.

It’s done. It’s over. And we’re free and safe
.

I stand, linked at the elbows with Joel on one side and Todd on the other, and watch the giant bonfire devour my house. The neighbors only last a few minutes after the firemen begin squirting, and soon the sun is higher in the sky, the flames are doused, and it’s just Todd and me, sitting on the curb in front of a black pile of rubble.

“Party tonight?” Todd asks, nudging me with his leg. I nudge him back and lower my head to his shoulder.

I don’t stay long there, though. A supernatural breeze gushes across the air, pricking goose bumps down my skin. One look at the motionless branches tells me the breeze affects only us.

Todd’s warm eyes graze mine in wonder, and then a pair of ghostly blue apparitions appears before us. Ada and Thomas, hand-in-hand. They’re see-through like water. The car parked across the street, even the tree in the yard behind it holds a shimmery quality through them.

Ada gives me a maternal smile, and Thomas’ mouth offers a soft smirk. My pulse picks up speed, just to show it can. I stagger to my feet, and Todd joins me, his eyes expanded wide. I don’t question if the rest of the street can see them. I’m almost sure they can’t.

“How can we ever thank you?” Thomas asks. Todd’s mouth hangs open; his fingers grip so hard between mine they’re like crab claws.

“I’m so sorry, Piper,” Ada says. Her hair spills in waves to her shoulders. She looks lovelier than ever. “I had no idea I would be released—that it all would have ended—if the house were destroyed. I beg for your forgiveness.”

I hold up my hand. “Whoa, no begging,” I say. Feelings filter through my chest like they’re being filed in a cabinet, but among the pity and relief, and the sadness, I hold no anger or resentment. In fact, I wish I could hug her. “I know why you did it.”

To my surprise, she does hug me, and she’s substantial enough for the hug to work. She’s eerily stony, like embracing an ice sculpture.

“I’m sorry, too,” I say. “Sorry for your death.”

“That’s what Garrett didn’t understand,” she says, pulling back and sharing a steamy glance with Thomas. “Death isn’t the end. It’s only a doorway.”

Her words pour shivers over my entire body. Most people fear what they can’t see or don’t know, and sure, death is scary for those reasons. But Garrett was the worst kind of coward, unwilling to take that leap.

“And have you, like, seen him? Mr. Garrett?”

“No,” Ada says, tucking her chin to her chest.

“And he better hope it stays that way,” Thomas adds with vehemence. I meet the stern lines on his handsome face.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Todd jokes to him.

You can say that again.
We all exchange smiles, and then Ada and Thomas vanish, leaving Todd and me alone on the sidewalk.

First, I’d like to thank my brother, Chad, for sharing a love of the creepy and also for taking the time to help me with ideas. Mr. Garrett wouldn’t have happened without you!

Enormous thanks to all my beta readers. Megan Whitman, you were the first, even if it was just the opening pages. Also thanks to Juliana Brandt, Ryan Dalton, Karen Akins, Rachel Searles, and Jolene Perry. You guys are the best!

Thanks and big hugs to Anne Pfeffer for her awesome critique, support, and friendship.

To Tiana Burbank and Sandy Warren for reading—love you ladies!

Morgan Shamy, my sanity wouldn’t be in tact if it wasn’t for your texts and constant positivity!
So it’s come to this
. Morg, you’re the best friend a girl could ask for.

And to my pal Elizabeth Briggs, for being the queen of information and plot. Liz, what can I even say? It’s fully probable that
Phobic
and I wouldn’t be where we are without you and all your help. You’re amazing!

Gigantic hugs and multiple exclamation points in each of your honor: !!!!!!!

To my mother, for always standing by me. For never letting me give up all along, for telling me I could do anything and believing it.

Heaps of thanks and scoops of ice cream and sprinkles to the bedazzling writing community, and especially to the rest of my family and friends, for sticking with me and always asking, “How’s your book doing?”

To the agents who considered
Phobic
and loved it enough to give feedback, thank you.

Thanks to my Heavenly Father. For answering my prayers.

To my adorable sons, you are a constant joy to me.

And to Duane. Love of my life and my biggest support. Here’s to the sting of ten thousand scorpions, babe.

Coming Soon!

SEALED WITH A KISS
, a YA sci fi/fantasy

Three world leaders have been assassinated, and sixteen-year-old spy-in-training Remi Karrin is out to get a weapon that is vital to discovering who the assassin is (or so she’s told). But when a masked boy beats her to it, she kisses him as a mere point of distraction from the weapon they’re both after. Too late, she finds out she’s not only just kissed the prince, triggering a century-old curse dooming any girl who kisses one of the Ruben royal line to imminent death, but that the prince might also be behind the assassinations themselves. Now Remi must root out the truth about the prince she’s coming to care for, all while breaking the curse and saving her world.

This whirlwind blend of action and romance is coming December 2014!

For updates on this and Cortney’s other upcoming novels (including
PANIC
, the thrilling sequel to PHOBIC), as well as fun things like teasers and giveaways, sign up for
her newsletter
!

Copyright © 2014 Cortney Pearson Published by Cortney Pearson All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, printing, recording, or otherwise—without the prior permission of the author, except for use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, incidents, or events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.