Wraiths of Winter (The Haunting Ruby Series Book 3) (40 page)

“One night after a rousing sermon against sins of the
flesh, about a dozen drunken men marched to The Red Horse
Saloon armed with shotguns and cans of kerosene.
What
started out as a wage against sin, turned into a display of the
worst depravity imaginable.
The prostitutes were tied to
their beds and raped before the place was set on fire. Most of
them died from the smoke but one young girl in particular,
Rosemarie, was said to have actually burned to death.
Her
screams could be heard well into the night.”

“By morning, the saloon’s occupants were nothing but
a pile of charred bones and ashes. The perpetrators of those
heinous crimes were never brought to justice—there were far
too many
prominent
members
of society
involved.
The
townspeople simply looked the other way and pretended that
nothing
ever happened.
Over the years, many
different
structures were built on that site—a slaughterhouse, several
factories, an office building, and eventually even a department
store.
Each one of them ended up the same as The Red
Horse—reduced to rubble.
fires
or
explosions.
The
leveled by what shoppers claimed was an earthquake.
The
Texas
Seismology
Institute located only
ten
miles
away
reported no seismological events that day within 500 miles.”
They all fell victim to mysterious
department
store was
actually

“Gerald came across the spot accidentally. He was
doing a lecture series at the local university on the scientific
approach to paranormal
research.
The
lecture
hall just
happened to be situated over the remains of the saloon. The
very first night he was there, he said he could feel a presence
unlike any
he
had ever
felt before—something
dark and
menacing.
With
each
passing
night,
he
grew
more
uncomfortable there.
He experienced
burning
sensations
throughout his body and smelled the unbearable stench of
charred flesh that wouldn’t go away. The lecture hall itself
appeared to be scorched and blistered but when he noted that
fact to another lecturer, she acted like he was crazy.
His
microphone caught fire two nights in a row.”

“Eventually, he began researching the history of the
property. That’s when he made the connection between
Rosemarie’s death and the seemingly unavoidable destruction
of any structure built there. I wasn’t aware of this but Gerald
actually coined the term wraith to describe her.
He dropped
out of the lecture series and that very night the hall became
an uncontrollable inferno. The fire originated at the podium
just minutes after the building emptied. As the final speaker
on the program, he would have been at that podium when it
went up in flames. To this day, he remains convinced of two
things—that Rosemarie was most powerful when there was a
‘seer’ in the building and that her intention was to kill him.”

I slumped down in my chair in defeat. “So what you’re
telling me is that Allison’s plan is to kill me and take the
Bantam down in the process.”

Rita closed her notebook and rested her elbows on the
desk. “Possibly, Ruby. Gerald theorized that a wraith’s
intended target is the person responsible for his or her death.
But if that isn’t possible, they will settle for killing anyone
who
can
see them.
There really isn’t enough information
about wraiths for me to say for sure. The only thing I’m
certain of is that every time you go into that theater, it could
be your last. Please reconsider this little project of yours.”

Now I knew what they meant when people spoke of
being caught between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, I
felt like that theater was the only place where I could find
what I needed to stop a serial killer. On the other, going in
there was dangerous and someone else could end up dead—
that someone being me, of course. Now what?

I couldn’t make up my mind. So I didn’t. “I’ll think
about it, Rita.”

 

She frowned disapprovingly. “Think long and hard.”

As she picked up her bags and headed for the door, I
remembered what Brian
said to
me about the legendary
Phantom of the Bantam. Why hadn’t I thought to ask Rita
about it sooner?

“Hey, before you leave, I have one last question for
you. I heard the rumor that the Bantam has been haunted for
decades—long before Allison could have been the culprit. Do
you know anything about that?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Years ago, theater workers
claimed to hear the sound of footsteps at night when the
theater was quiet. I checked the place out about ten years ago
and found nothing.
The mythical phantom is just that—a
myth.”

“Awesome! Thanks, Rita.” Finally a piece of
good
news from her lips.

“Don’t get
too
excited.
Allison is still very much a
threat—don’t forget that,” she replied as she walked out the
door. “You’re messing around with something even
I’m
too
afraid to touch.”

Once again, my joy at hearing good news was short
lived. I had a lot of serious thinking to do.

And think was all I did—not just about Allison, either.
Lately, my life had boiled down to nothing but a series of
tough choices. Zach or Lucas. Pendleton or Trinity. Protect
my own life or save someone else’s. Do what my dad wanted
me to do or trust in myself?
They were no win situations, all
of them. No matter what, I would hurt someone I cared about.
Was there even a right answer to any of it? Life used to be so
much easier.

When I was younger, growing up used to seem so
glamorous and carefree. I couldn’t wait for the day that I
could do whatever I wanted without having to ask anyone for
permission. But I was quickly finding out that it didn’t exactly
work
that
way.
Doing
what
I
wanted
came
with
consequences. And, hell, sometimes I didn’t even know what
it was I wanted. It was even possible to want two conflicting
things at the same time. People always ask little kids what
they want to be when they grow up. If someone asked me
now, my answer would be “little again”.

I struggled with the big questions until closing time,
no closer to any decisions than when I started. When Lucas
knocked on the door just after I locked it, at least one decision
was made for me. There wasn’t enough time for him to drive
me home without making himself late for rehearsal. Look out,
Allison. Here I come.

With only three weeks until opening night, Jonas was
starting to feel the pressure of so many interrupted rehearsals
bearing down on him. In return, he passed that burden along
to us.

“No, no, no! The line is ‘Come away with me, Kira for
all time!’” he shouted to Lucas when he flubbed his line. “And
you have to say it like you mean it!”

The normal air of death and agony in the theater now
came with an extra layer—frustration.
Jonas set me to the
task of typing up the cast list for the playbill.

“Here’s my laptop—you can use one of the dressing
room tables as a desk,” he said hurriedly before scolding
Rachel for her unenthusiastic delivery.

I took the computer and the list of who was playing
which part and ducked down the hall to the dressing rooms.
Sure, I didn’t relish the idea of being alone in the theater after
what happened in the bell tower but at the moment, Jonas’s
temper was just as frightening as Allison’s.

It would have made sense for me to set up shop in the
closest dressing room but when was the last time I actually
made sense? Instead, I walked past every door until I reached
the one all the way at the far end of the hallway. It was the
same room where I’d hung the costumes weeks ago—the
room where I felt like I was being watched.

I opened the door and walked inside with just the
light from the hallway to guide me.
Everything felt normal—
no sense of watchful eyes on my back. Satisfied that the only
abnormal thing in the room was me, I flicked on the lights and
sat down at the dressing table. That’s when the feeling hit me.

I was being watched. The room was quiet and with
one glance in the mirror, I could see everything behind me
which was nothing but the bare wall. There wasn’t a single
person—or entity—in sight.
But even so, I had the same
feeling I would get in study hall when I would look up and find
some dorky
freshman boy trying
to catch
a peek at my
cleavage. Someone was in the room with me but where were
they hiding?

Just like the last time, I searched the room but found
nothing. What was causing me to feel like that?
I sat back
down at the laptop and began to type up Jonas’s list. But with
every other word I typed, I found myself glancing into the
mirror to make sure no one was creeping up behind me. The
scenery never changed but the feeling grew stronger until I
couldn’t bear it any longer. I closed the laptop and ran out of
the room.

I walked back into the auditorium
only
to find
something even more uncomfortable. The cast was seated in
the front row all looking like deer caught in the headlights.
Jonas was the oncoming car.

“I will NOT have
my
name
attached
to
such
sophomoric acting! This production was supposed to put the
Bantam back on the map!” He flung out his arms dramatically
and as if on cue, a sharp crackling noise followed by a high
pitched squeal sounded behind him.

The
microphone sitting
mid-stage began vibrating
from the feedback issuing forth. The noise increased in pitch
until it became too painful to bear with the naked ear. Jonas
clasped his hands over his ears as he gave a sharp yank on the
cord to unplug it. But once the cord was free from the outlet,
the noise grew even louder. He froze in place momentarily
then grabbed the microphone and began to beat it off of the
floor.
Jonas
smashed the head
of
the
mic
against the
floorboards until it was broken into multiple pieces. With a
slow whine, the noise wound down until the theater was
silent.

“JACKSON!!” he screamed until the lumbering
maintenance worker shuffled into sight. “Clean this up!”

Jackson ambled onto the stage and began to pick up
the tiny pieces one by one and throw them into the garbage.
Jonas lost it.

“Use your broom, idiot!” he said shoving the push
broom and dustpan in his direction. Jackson stared blankly at
him and continued to pick up the pieces singly by hand.

Jonas raised his hand as though to strike him. Jackson
creeped me out but I couldn’t just sit there and watch him
take a blow he didn’t deserve. He was an adult but he
probably had the mental capacity of a five year old, for cryin’
out loud! So I spoke up.

“Jonas!” I cried out. Jonas turned to face me, obviously
stunned. Suddenly, I wished I hadn’t called attention to
myself but it was too late to shut my mouth now. “I don’t
think he understands you.”

Jonas laughed mockingly. “He understands more than
you
think
he does. He got fired from his maintenance job at
the campus when they caught him selling top notch research
papers to students.
He sold hundreds of them on every topic
you can imagine—from psychology to ancient civilizations.
Imagine the dean’s surprise when he realized Jackson wrote
them all himself.”

What? I studied the face of what I’d always assumed
was a mentally retarded man and saw something I hadn’t
seen there before.
There was something cold and calculating
lurking just beneath the surface.
And I started to look at
things in a whole new light.

I said nothing more, just handed the laptop to Jonas,
and sat down between Lucas and Rachel. The looks I got from
both of them told me that I wasn’t the only one who was
confused. Once again, rehearsal was cut short. Jonas excused
us all and disappeared offstage.

“What was all
that
about?” Rachel whispered as
everyone filtered toward the exit.

 

“I don’t know. All I know is I feel like I don’t know
anything anymore.”

We were the last three to leave the theater.
Lucas
held the door open for us and Rachel stepped out onto the
sidewalk. As my foot was about to cross the threshold into a
more sane world, there was a tap on my shoulder.

Jackson stood behind me, a bouquet of artificial red
roses in his hand.
He held them out to me and I inhaled
sharply. My gasp caught Lucas’s attention. He let go of the
door and it swung back against its frame with a loud bang.
Snatching the flowers from his clenched fist, Lucas threw
them onto the floor.

“She’ll never marry you, you psycho!” Protectively,
Lucas placed his arm around my waist and ushered me out
the door. Without stopping to talk to Rachel, Lucas got me
into his car, locked all of the doors, and drove away.

32. Crystallized

Everything
suddenly
became
clear
and
sharply
focused in my brain. Drake wasn’t the killer after all, Jackson
was!
He very well could have been on campus at the same
time as Allison..
Mr. Fantastic could have been an alias he
used to keep his identity hidden from all but his most trusted
buyers. Allison probably approached him for a paper and he
became obsessed with her. When she started dating Drake,
he snapped and killed her. The pieces all fit neatly into place
now—it all made sense. And that made the whole game twice
as dangerous. Now that I knew the truth, I really needed to
watch my back.