Experiment in Terror 05 On Demon Wings (13 page)

deciding to spend the evening watching sitcom reruns. I

couldn’t remember the last time I had done something like

that and mindless entertainment was long overdue.

After two episodes of
Friends
and two episodes of

Frasier
, I heard my dad pul his car into the driveway and a

wave of relief rushed through me. Subconsciously, I must

have been on edge, despite the antics of Niles Crane.

I heard the front door open and my mom saying

something to him. Then I heard their footsteps cross the

driveway and the car doors close.

“Nooo!” I cried out and ran to the window. My dad’s SUV

was backing up down the drive, my mom in the passenger

seat. They pul ed onto the street and disappeared into the

darkness and waving trees.

“Fuck,” I swore. They probably just went to a friend’s

house or out to get food, but that meant I was al alone in

the big house for who knows how long. The wind whipping

around outside, the cold blasts, and shuddering windows

weren’t making the situation any calmer. Of al days, I did

not want to be by myself.

I tried to watch a rerun before prime time kicked in but

couldn’t get into it. I left it on so that the voices would keep

me company but my mind was al over the place. I kept

relaying the events from the day over and over again and

wondered what was next.

Twenty minutes later, an old episode of
The Outer

Limits
came on the tube. Now that was something I didn’t

need to see. I made the move to switch the channel and as I

picked up the remote I knocked the miscarriage pamphlet

off the bed. It made a solid sound as it landed on the floor.

Odd. It was essential y just a few pages and light as a

feather.

I looked over the edge of my bed and saw the pamphlet

sticking up at a funny angle, as if there was something

under it. Curiously, I reached down and picked it up.

The blue baby slippers were beneath it on the floor.

I dropped the pamphlet in alarm and leaped back in my

bed, my heart doing a jackhammer impression. I grasped

nervously at my hoodie and wished to God that my parents

were home.

Seriously, what the fuck was going on? Had Ada brought

them to me? I peered my head over. The slippers looked

clean and new, waiting for newborn baby feet. There was

no sign of them ever being in the trash but I know they had

been there. I had seen my father put them in there and I

even tossed an empty carton of orange juice on top of them

in the morning. I could have gone downstairs and checked

but leaving the false security of my room seemed out of the

question. It didn’t matter anyway. Somehow they had found

me again and I didn’t think I could ever ful y escape. Like

clock wheels that were just beginning to fit in place, I

realized someone, or something, was on a mission to

frighten me. It wasn’t al in my head. It couldn’t have been.

With my parents out and Ada on her date, there wasn’t

much I could do. But I could cal Maximus and I did just that.

I grabbed my phone from the table, keeping a safe

distance from the slippers in case they started moving on

their own, and quickly dialed his number.

“Perry,” he said warmly as he answered.

His voice fil ed me with a spark of hope. “Hi, listen, what

are you doing right now?”

“Right now?” he repeated careful y. I held my breath,

afraid he might already have plans. I was so scared though,

I would do what I must to convince him.

“Yeah, I could real y use some company. I need to get

out of my house,” I tried to say as calmly as possible, but it

stil came out flustered.

“Are you in trouble?” he asked, getting straight to the

point.

“I’m not sure,” I said honestly.

“I’l be right over. Where do you live?”

I told him and we hung up. The thing I knew about

Maximus was when you cal ed, he came running to you.

I passed the next thirty minutes by dol ing myself up. I

don’t know what possessed me to start thinking I was going

on a date – he was saving my ass from going crazy was

what he was actual y doing – but looking at it this way

eased the terror from my stomach and replaced it with

butterflies. The good news was when I final y found the

courage to look at myself in the mirror, my reflection was no

longer demonic. My eyes were back to normal, and though I

was pasty, I covered that up with a swipe of bronzer.

I ransacked my closet looking for something to wear but

couldn’t decide on anything until I spied a purple sundress

at the back. For some reason I was drawn to it and I

slipped it on.

I glanced in the mirror. It was startling to see myself in

that color but it went wel with my black hair and paleness. I

looked girly and for once I liked it. It felt oddly natural. I put

on my own leggings and black combat boots to even things

out and as I grabbed a cardigan from the closet, I heard a

car vroom up to the house.

Below was an old-fashioned red truck with white trim,

steam rising up from the exhaust and blowing away in cold

gusts. Maximus kept the truck running and got out. I

knocked on the window quickly to indicate I’d be right

down, then I grabbed my purse and went for my door.

I hesitated before I touched the door knob. There was a

tingly feeling in my hands, kind of like when you think you’re

going to get a static shock. I wasn’t afraid of no shock;

however. I was suddenly, inexplicably afraid that I’d try to

open the door and there would be something on the other

side refusing to let me out.

“I’l just jump out the window then,” I said out loud to

intimidate things that were probably in my imagination.

It was true, too. The roof below my window sloped gently

and with an oak tree at the corner of the house, it was easy

to stealthily move across and then climb down the tree. It

was an escape route used many times in high school.

But this wasn’t a time to sneak around. I breathed in

deeply and grabbed the door handle. It swung open with

ease I wasted no time running down the hal and stairs and

to the front door. The lights were on, which made things

less creepy, but I didn’t want to spend an extra second in

that house anymore.

I leaped out the door and quickly locked it behind me

before speed walking toward Maximus, who was holding

open the passenger door.

“Nice truck,” I said with a smile.

He returned the smile with extra wattage. “Nice dress.”

I was too cold and uneasy to blush. I jumped in the seat

and he shut the door just as the wind picked up again.

He got in his side and gave me the once over. “Where

to, little lady?”

“Somewhere far away from here,” I said, eyeing my

house. It looked menacing, ominous, and not at al like the

house I grew up in. “And somewhere with booze. A lot of it.

This little lady needs a fucking drink.”

Maximus ended up taking me to a quaint little wine bar that

overlooked the river at the end of Waterfront Park. In the

summer, the patio area would be packed with tourists and

locals snapping up the breezes off the water, but in the

winter it was smal and cozy. If I were in the right frame of

mind, I might have even cal ed it romantic, especial y with

the lights as they twinkled off the black, waving currents

outside and contrasted against the soft glow inside.

I wasn’t in my right frame of mind, though, and Maximus

knew it. As he drove us here, he kept the conversation safe

as a disoriented Tom Waits crooned from his stereo,

mimicking how I felt. I tried to keep my mind somewhere

else. But once we settled down in our tiny, windowside

table, his large frame looking almost comical in the narrow

spot, and ordered our first drinks, he started giving me the

expectant eye.

The waiter placed a shot of tequila down in front of me

and I raised it in the air at Maximus.

“To…,” I trailed off, unable to think of a single thing worth

toasting to.

“To us,” he finished, raising his Corona. I raised my

brow. His green eyes twinkled in the candlelight.

“Wel , it’s better than nothing,” I said with a smirk and we

clinked glasses. I tried to hold his eyes as I did the shot but

it burned hard in my throat and I coughed.

“Easy there, it’s not a race,” he chided, picking up my

lime and passing it to me.

I shoved it in my mouth until the bitterness took the

wincing away. I smiled at him, al lime mouth, and sat back

in my chair feeling more relaxed than I had in weeks.

“That’s a nice look for you,” he said with a wink. I took

the lime out and placed it in the empty shot glass.

“You’re looking very pretty tonight,” he continued after

clearing his throat. “I don’t know why I never pictured you

wearing a dress before.”

“Because I don’t wear dresses, unless it’s a special

occasion.”

It was his turn to raise his brow. “Is this a special

occasion?”

I shrugged as the waiter came by again and poured me

a glass of riesling.

“No. Maybe. Some part of me thought it was a great

idea to wear it.”

“Wel I’m glad that part of you did.”

“I just wish I knew what part.” I gave him a steady look.

I took a large sip of my wine and immediately felt the

smooth, golden liquid go straight to my head where the

tequila was already sitting. I don’t even think I ate anything

for dinner. Things like food were slipping my mind lately.

“So what happened tonight that made you cal me? I’d

like to pretend you just wanted my company, but it sounded

as if anybody would have done the job.”

My lips twitched slightly as I observed him. He looked a

bit put upon, like there was a chance I could hurt him if I told

him that actual y anyone would have done the job and I just

wanted to get out of the house, to be with people. But I

wasn’t sure how true that was.

“I think I’m being hunted,” I said, leaning in closer to him,

keeping my voice low. “Or haunted. Or I’m going crazy. One

of those three. Or al of them.”

He leaned forward too, and his forehead nearly bumped

against mine. He grabbed my hands with his large,

weatherbeaten ones and squeezed them. It was a

comforting gesture.

“Tel me everything,” he whispered. His drawl was

incredibly sexy when he whispered like that. I didn’t like how

I was noticing him in that way. Not tonight.

I dropped my eyes to the table and begun the long, crazy

tale of the last few weeks. I left out the miscarriage part

because it was none of his business. I just told him I had

severe “woman problems” and I’m not sure if he deduced

anything out of that. I concluded the story with the last straw,

the baby slippers in my room.

While I was talking Maximus kept quiet; his eyes were

squinty emeralds in the low light. I met them occasional y,

afraid to see signs of doubt in them. To his credit, he only

seemed engrossed by my story and then extremely

concerned. He finished the rest of his beer and placed it on

the table so that the bottle spun around like a top.

“I wish I wasn’t the designated driver tonight, darling,” he

said final y, “because after hearing that story, I reckon I want

another drink. And I know you do too.”

The idea of throwing caution to the wind and convincing

Maximus to get loaded with me was suddenly very

tempting. But I had a mystery to solve.

“Wel , what do you think?” I asked cautiously.

He gave my hands a quick squeeze again and leaned

back in his chair.

“I’m going to speak my mind here, Perry,” he said. My

heart thudded around a little. He thought I was crazy. He

thought I was nutso. He thought I was losing my mind.

“I do think you are being haunted,” was his matter-of-fact

answer. “And I’d love to come over, spend some time in

your house, and do a reading. Get to the bottom of this.”

Oh.

“Are you serious? You believe me?”

“Of course I do. Not every haunting is a clear-cut case.

There’s no guide for ghosts to fol ow. If you’re being

haunted by something, it could mess up a lot of things in

your life.”

“But it doesn’t explain everything…”

He stroked his chin for a few moments and observed

new people entering the bar, the cold blast from outside