Hades (5 page)

charming smile, the shock of nutmeg hair fal ing across his

forehead and know that he could have his pick of girls.

They would simply assume that like any normal teenage

boy, he would be out enjoying the perks of being young and

attractive. Only those close to him knew that Xavier was

completely committed to me. Not only was he

breathtakingly gorgeous, he was a leader, looked up to and

respected by everybody. I loved and admired him, but I stil

couldn’t quite believe he was mine. I couldn’t fathom that I

had been so lucky. Sometimes I worried he might be a

dream and if I let myself lose focus, he might fade away.

But he was stil sitting beside me, solid and secure. He

answered Ben when it became apparent that I had zoned

out.

“Relax, Carter, it’s a party,” he said, laughing.

“Where’s your costume?” I asked, forcing myself back to

reality.

“I don’t do dress-ups,” Ben said cynical y. Ben was the

sort of guy who thought everything was puerile and beneath

him. He managed to maintain his contemptuously superior

persona by engaging in nothing. At the same time he

always turned up just in case he might miss out on

something. “My God, they’re sickening.” He wrinkled his

face in disgust at the lacy underwear lying on the porch. “I

hope I never fal for someone so hard that I agree to have

sex in a tractor.”

“I don’t know about the tractor,” I teased. “But I’m betting

one day you’l fal in love and there won’t be a thing you can

do about it.”

“Not a chance.” Ben stretched out with his arms crossed

over his head and shut his eyes. “I’m too bitter and jaded.”

“I could try and set you up with one of my friends,” I

offered. I quite liked the idea of matchmaking and was fairly

confident in my skil s. “What about Abby? She’s single and

pretty and wouldn’t be too demanding.”

“Dear God, please don’t,” Ben said. “That would have to

be the worst match in history.”

“I beg your pardon?” Ben’s lack of confidence in my

abilities was disappointing.

“Beg al you want.” Ben snorted. “My decision is final. I

won’t be set up with a cooler-drinking, stiletto-wearing

bimbo. We’d have nothing to say to each other except
bye.
”

“It’s good to know you have such a high opinion of my

friends,” I said crossly. “Is that what you think of me?”

“No, but you’re different.”

“How so?”

“You’re weird.”

“I am not!” I exclaimed. “What’s so weird about me?

Xavier, do you think I’m weird?”

“Calm down, babe,” Xavier said, eyes twinkling with

amusement. “I’m sure Carter means
weird
in the most

flattering sense.”

“Wel , you’re weird too,” I hit back at Ben, realizing at the

same time how petulant I sounded.

He chuckled and downed the rest of his beer. “Takes one

to know one.”

The sound of raucous voices coming from inside drew

our attention. The screen door was thrown open and a

group of boys from the water-polo team appeared on the

porch. It was amazing, I thought to myself, how much they

reminded me of young lion cubs, jostling and tumbling over

one another. Xavier shook his head in gentle

admonishment as they stumbled toward us. I recognized

the faces of Wesley and Lawson among them. They were

easy to pick out; Wesley with his slick, dark hair and low-

set brows and Lawson with his white-blond crew cut and

hooded blue eyes. They were a dul blue, I noticed, they

didn’t sparkle like Xavier’s. Both boys were shirtless and

striped with war paint. They acknowledged my presence

with a curt nod in my direction and I thought fleetingly back

to a time when men would click their heels and bow in the

presence of a lady. I returned their acknowledgment with a

smile. I couldn’t bring myself to do what my friends cal ed

the “s’up nod”—it made me feel as if I were in one of those

music videos Mol y watched on MTV where men in hoods

rapped about “homies” and something cal ed “bling.”

“Come on, Woods,” the boys cal ed. “We’re headed to

the lake.”

Xavier groaned. “Here we go.”

“You know the rules,” Wesley cal ed out. “Last one there

has to skinny-dip.”

“My God, they real y have discovered the pinnacle of

intel ectual stimulation,” muttered Ben.

Xavier got up reluctantly and I stared at him in surprise.

“You’re not going, are you?” I said.

“The race is a Bryce tradition.” He laughed. “We do it

every year wherever we are. But don’t worry, I never come

in last.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Lawson crowed as he leapt off the

porch and pelted toward the woods at the rear of the

property. “Head start advantage!” The rest of the boys

fol owed suit, shoving one another unceremoniously as they

ran. They went crashing through the overgrown shrubs and

headed for the open fields like a stampede.

Once they’d disappeared, I left Ben to his philosophical

brooding and went inside to find Mol y. She and the girls

had moved and were now huddled secretively in a little

cluster by the foot of the stairs. Abigail had a supersize

paper bag tucked under her arm and they al looked very

serious.

“Beth!” Mol y clutched my arm when I joined them. “I’m

glad you’re here; we’re about to get started.”

“Get started with what?” I asked with curiosity.

“The seance, of course.”

I groaned inwardly. So they hadn’t forgotten about it. I’d

hoped the plan would be abandoned once the girls started

having fun.

“You guys can’t be serious?” I said, but they were looking

at me with complete sincerity. I tried a different technique.

“Hey, Abby, Hank Hunt is out back. He looked like he could

real y use some company.”

Abigail had been crazy about Hank Hunt since junior high

and hadn’t stopped going on about him al term. But tonight,

not even he could distract her from the plan at hand.

“Who cares about him,” Abigail scoffed. “This is heaps

more important—let’s go find an empty room.”

“No,” I said firmly, shaking my head. “C’mon, guys, can’t

we find something else to do?”

“But it’s Hal oween,” Hal ie said, pouting like a child. “We

want to talk to ghosts.”

“The dead should stay that way,” I snapped. “Can’t you

go and bob for apples or something?”

“Don’t be such a party pooper,” Savannah said. She got

up and began to drag me up the stairs after her. The others

fol owed eagerly. “What could go wrong?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” I said, pul ing away. “What

couldn’t
go wrong?”

“You don’t actual y believe in ghosts, do you, Bethie?”

Madison asked. “We’re only trying to have some fun.”

“I just don’t think we should play around with this stuff.” I

sighed.

“Fine, don’t come,” Hal ie snapped. “Stay down here by

yourself and wait for Xavier like you always do. We knew

you’d bail anyway. We’l have fun without you.” She shot me

a betrayed look and the others nodded in support of her. I

wasn’t having any luck impressing upon them the danger

associated with their plan. How could you tel children they

were playing with fire if they’d never had the experience of

being burned? I wished Gabriel were here. He radiated

authority and he’d know exactly what to say to change their

minds. He had that effect on people. Here I was sounding

like nothing more than a wet blanket. Some ministering

angel I was turning out to be. I knew it wasn’t within my

powers to stop them, but I couldn’t let them go without me. If

anything happened, at least I could be there to deal with

whatever they encountered on the other side. They were

already climbing the stairs, clutching one another’s arms as

they whispered in excitement.

“Guys,” I cal ed out. “Wait up … I’m coming.”

4

Crossing the Line

UPSTAIRS the house smel ed musty and stale. On the

landing the striped ivory wal paper was peeling away in

sheets from the rising damp. Although we could hear the

party raging on below us, it was preternatural y stil on the

second floor as if in anticipation of some paranormal

experience. The girls lapped it up.

“This is the perfect setting,” said Hal ie.

“I’l bet this place is already haunted,” added Savannah,

her face flushed with enthusiasm.

Suddenly my concerns seemed disproportionate to the

situation. Was it possible that I was overreacting? Why was

I always assuming the worst and letting my conservative

nature bring down the mood of everyone around me? I

scolded myself mental y for always jumping to dire

conclusions—what were the chances of these fun-loving

girls actual y making a connection with the other side? It

had been known to happen, but it usual y required the

guidance of a trained medium. Lost spirits general y didn’t

appreciate being cal ed on as a source of teenage

entertainment. Anyway, the girls would probably get bored

when they failed to get the results they anticipated.

I fol owed Mol y and the others into what had once been

the guest bedroom. Its tal windows were opaque from a

fine layer of accumulated dust and grime. The room itself

was empty except for an iron bedstead pushed up against

a grimy window. It had a rickety iron frame that had once

been white but had tarnished to a buttery color over time.

There was an equal y faded quilt scattered with pink

rosebuds. I guessed the Knox family didn’t even visit the old

country house much anymore, let alone invite guests down

for the summer. The window frames looked weathered by

the sun and there were no curtains to block out the

moonlight. I noticed the room faced west and overlooked

the woods at the rear of the property. I could see the

scarecrow standing guard in the field, its straw hat flapping

in the breeze.

Without needing any prompting the girls arranged

themselves cross-legged in a circle on the threadbare rug

on the floor. Abby reached into her paper bag careful y as if

she were withdrawing a priceless artifact. The Ouija board

she unpacked from its green felt cover was so wel -worn it

might have passed for an antique.

“Where did you get that?”

“My grammy gave it to me,” Abby said. “I went to visit her

in Montgomery last month.”

She placed the board with exaggerated ceremony in the

center of our circle. I hadn’t seen one before other than in

books, but this one looked more decorative than I’d

expected. Around its perimeters, the alphabet was

scrawled in two straight lines along with numbers and other

symbols I didn’t recognize. In opposite corners and

surrounded by curlicues were the capitalized words
YES

and
NO.
Even someone who’d never seen a Ouija board

before couldn’t miss its association with the dark arts. Next

Abby withdrew a fragile, long-stemmed sherry glass

wrapped in tissue paper. She tossed the paper aside

impatiently and placed the upturned glass on the board.

“How does this thing work?” Madison wanted to know.

Aside from me, she was the only other participant not

brimming with anticipation. I suspected it was more due to

the lack of alcohol and boys in the room than any concern

about our safety.

“You need a conductor like a piece of wood or an

upturned glass to communicate with the spirit world,” Abby

explained, enjoying her role as resident expert. “Strong

psychic powers run in our family, so I actual y know what I’m