Silence - eARC (12 page)

She blinked harder, willing her eyes to clear.

It was something…human-shaped…

Then as she raised the charm a little higher, the light fell fully on it.

There was a woman there. And she was…gorgeous. Her golden hair fell down to her ankles, and she was wearing a long green dress that clung to her as if it had been painted on. It was held in close to her waist by something that was part corset, part belt, all in gold, and there was a gold headband around her head, centered by a green stone that matched her green, green eyes. She was standing next to what looked like a gigantic kettle, of a very dull gold. For a moment, Staci felt as if she had stumbled into a scene from
Lord of the Rings.

But then, the woman smiled, and all resemblance to the fantasy film vanished. The smile was—cruel. And there seemed to be the body of a young man at the woman’s feet.

And as she dipped one finger into the cauldron and pulled it out, still smiling at Staci, the finger dripped a horribly familiar red.

The woman uttered a low chuckle, and licked the blood from her finger.

Staci gasped, almost dropping her phone. She lowered it to her chest, clasping her hand around the charm, which was still glowing brightly.
Oh crap, oh crap. What did Dylan say about turning it off?
Slowly, the light from the charm faded from between her fingers. She had ducked behind the edge of the hedge wall. Every fiber in her wanted nothing more than to run screaming, to get back to the party and the light and Sean. But there was a tiny voice in the back of her mind that told her to be brave, to peek around the corner and see what she could see. She listened to that voice; slowly, she edged up to the wall, crouching down and leaning over until only the left side of her face was out from behind it.

The woman was still there, stirring the kettle with her finger. Another figure had joined her, though.

It was Finn. Only…it wasn’t.

The first thing she saw was pointed ears, like Dylan’s, poking through his hair. Then as her eyes adjusted to the moonlight, she realized she could see the woman and Finn much better than she should have been able to—there was a sort of haze of light around both of them, a sort of sickly yellow. And Finn wasn’t wearing the open-necked crew shirt, blazer and trousers he’d worn at the party; instead, it
looked
to Staci as if he was all in black and gray leather, but not like biker leathers. More like fantasy-movie leather. Thigh-high laced boots, very tight leather pants, and something that, if she’d had to put a name to it, she would have called a
tunic
that was laced up the arms and down the chest.

Staci had to strain to hear, but she could barely make out the two of them talking.

“…and so I trust that everything is to your satisfaction?” That was Finn. He was looking even more smug than usual; Staci hadn’t thought that that was possible.

“Indeed it is. Though…I was expecting more than this
snack.
” The woman gestured to the jock on the ground. It was hard to tell for sure, but Staci thought that he wasn’t breathing. “There was not much substance to him. Creativity, imagination…I need the flame, rather than the feeble spark.”

“Just a down payment, securing your services in the future. Side with me, and this town will be an open buffet; no more scraps, no more hiding. I know where your ‘flames’ reside, and I know how to get them for you. Do we have an accord?”

The woman smiled, licked her finger again, and made a gesture. The cauldron vanished. “Just see to it that you can keep that side of the bargain. You would not wish to cross me, I do pledge you.”

“Nor you me. We’re finished here. I need to get back, before my absence is noticed as being anything other than innocent.”

Staci realized at that point she was going to have to get out, and fast. Finn would notice if she wasn’t at the party…Sean might, too, but Finn was the important one. She clutched the phone, and her charm, desperately, and didn’t so much think as
feel
how badly she needed to find her way out of the maze…

That same tension was building up inside her. When it became…impossible to hold in, she half-sobbed in the thinnest of whispers, “Please…get me
out
of here!”

And then she felt a burning spot on her fingers and looked down at her hand.

She saw a glow of light through her fingers where the cell charm was. But…it was in the shape of an arrowhead. Pointing back the way she had come.

She didn’t even stop to wonder if it was possible, she just ran, turning when the arrow turned, until all at once she emerged from the maze into the garden.

She looked down at her hand again. The light went to a vague blur through her fingers, then faded. She put the phone back in her bag, and took several long, deep breaths.
You didn’t see anything,
she told herself firmly.
It was probably just some role-players. Finn likes games like that, I bet…
If she told herself that enough times, she hoped she could convince herself enough to get calmed down and look and act normal.

When she thought she was as ready as she was ever likely to be, she made her way back to the rest of the party. Sean had migrated to another group of guests, and turned around to face her when she was near.

“Hey, there you are. I was starting to get a little worried.” Sean reached out, pulling her closer by the crook of her arm.

“Big mansion. I—I got turned around in there, even after the tour the other night. Sorry.” She laughed a little. “Would you believe I had to find the guest suite you put me up in before I could find a loo?” She liked using the word “loo” instead of bathroom. It was British, and it just sounded more…sophisticated. And now that she was back with Sean…her panic in the maze seemed utterly laughable. And
of course
she must have run into Finn’s role-players rather than anything more sinister! Seriously? Murdering someone in the middle of a party? Someone who was
going
to be missed? That wouldn’t fly even in the
worst
teen-slasher horror movie, much less in the real world. She felt herself relaxing as Sean gently squeezed her arm.

“Think you have time for a movie before I have to send you home in a pumpkin?” he asked playfully.

“Sure!” That sounded fantastic. Whatever movie it was, she really didn’t care. Sean wanted her to be with him for at least an hour and a half, without his attention divided, and her heart was racing at the thought.

Sean took her by the hand, then led her and the rest of the guests—those that weren’t passed out drunk or just as good as—to the game room. There were plenty of comfortable leather seats; Sean directed her to one large enough for the both of them. They both settled into the seat, with Staci snuggling up next to Sean’s chest after he threw an arm around her shoulders. Once everyone else was seated, Sean hit the remote, bringing up the menu on the DVD player. The movie was a heavily anticipated teen romance; Staci had heard that it was coming out in the fall, but somehow the Blackthornes already had a copy.

Halfway through the film, after the misunderstood but ultimately lovable female protagonist had finally shared her feelings with her beloved, the school heartthrob that was unattainable for everyone—especially her—Staci felt herself tearing up. She reached into her shoulder bag, trying to retrieve the package of tissues that she kept in there just in case. As she was fumbling through the bag, her hand brushed the charm on her cell phone—and it felt as if her entire body had been plunged into an ice bath. A fog seemed to clear from her mind. She remembered the hedge maze, the woman with the cauldron, the body of the jock, and especially Finn.
It wasn’t role-players, it wasn’t something fake. It was all
real.

Sean must have felt her tensing up, because he started rubbing her shoulder, looking down to see what was the matter. Quickly, she smiled, retrieving the tissues from her bag and getting one out to dab her eyes with. She couldn’t let him know what she’d seen, or
he
might be in danger from Finn. She had to protect him. “I’m just a sucker for this kind of movie,” she whispered.

He smiled at her. “I thought you might be. You’re an incredible romantic, and you haven’t let anything take that away from you. Never let that fire go out, Staci. It’s what makes you so alive.” While she liked hearing Sean say those things to her, she couldn’t help but think about what Finn had said in the maze about fire and sparks. It kept her feeling on edge for the rest of the movie.

* * *

She kept looking for…something…all the way back home in the limo. It was really creepy, expecting to see things lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce, and had her on edge the entire time. But there was nothing there, nothing at all. She could hardly believe it. Had that…whatever she was…not told Finn that Staci had
seen
her? And why would she not have told him?

By the time the limo reached the house, Staci had calmed down some. She knew that she needed to keep a level head. Just get inside, avoid Mom, call Dylan and tell him what she had seen. But the house was all lit up when the limo pulled up, and she knew, from past experience, that avoiding Mom was not going to be easy…or maybe even possible at all.

She could hear the stereo blasting from the porch as she tried the door. As she had figured, it was unlocked, and when she walked into the living room, it was clear she was walking into a party zone.

Even if it was only a party for two.

Or…maybe one and a half.

There were beer bottles everywhere, a couple of empty bottles of harder stuff on their sides on the coffee table, half-empty bags of snacks, potato chips on the floor, and Mom was sprawled on the couch while an unshaven guy in dirty jeans, wife-beater and open plaid shirt, who looked like he had probably lived his whole life in a trailer park, danced drunkenly in the middle of the floor.

“Hi honey!” Mom slurred. “Thi-this’s Pete.” She waved vaguely at the dirtbag. “He’s m’boyfrien’.” Then her head lolled back and she passed out.

“Hey,” Staci said indifferently, trying to edge past to the staircase.

“My name’s Patrick.” The man didn’t stop dancing, but did incline his head to ogle at Staci. “You must be the daughter.” He stumbled forward into her path, tripping over his own feet and landing on his hands and knees. As he was crawling, he found a still half-f bottle of vodka, bringing it up as he swayed to his feet. “Want a drink, girlie? Still plenty here.”

“No,” she said, and took the chance that if he lunged at her, she was faster than he was, and ran for the stairs.

“Aw, c’mon, no reas’n not t’try a
leetle
taste, huh?”

She didn’t answer him. Because this always ended the same, when her mom brought home a boyfriend. From the time she was twelve, it ended with clumsy come-ons at best, and at worst? The demand that since
Mom
was passed out, Staci automatically owed the dirtbag sex.

“Hey!” This time he grabbed her arm, hard. “Yer momma never taught you how to treat guests?” She could smell the horrible stink of the cheap booze on his breath mixed with stale body odor, and his eyes were completely bloodshot. Even through the drunk, she could see that he was pissed off, and was getting ready to
do
something about that.

She grabbed the bottle out of his hand and hit him with it. It didn’t break when she hit him, the way it did in the movies, but it sure broke when it hit the floor. He yelped and staggered back, inadvertently letting her go. She turned and ran up the stairs to her room, locking the door behind her.

She more than half expected to hear him come falling up the stairs, now doubly angry, but instead, she heard shouting. Her mom’s voice, then his, then her mom. Between the (thankfully!) thick door, and the fact that they were both drunk as skunks, she couldn’t understand what either of them were saying—

Right up until her mom got very clear indeed.
“—my daughter! Right in front of me, you pig! Get out! Out! I never wanna see you again!”
She ran to the window of her bedroom, just in time to hear the front door slam open.

The man, Patrick, stumbled off of the porch, now shirtless and wearing only his wife-beater and jeans. He turned around, flicking off the house. “Bitches! Just a couple of lousy bitches!” Staci nearly started crying; she had been through this before, and had become inured—for the most part—to a lot of “almosts” when it came to her mom’s boyfriends. But it was never easy. And every time it happened, she was afraid that
this time
the guy would be a little less stoned, a little stronger, a little quicker. Afraid that
this time
he might come back, with friends, or a gun.

He continued for a few more minutes, dropping f-bombs right and left, and then, suddenly, stopped.

Staci half expected to see someone next door or across the street coming out of their house to yell at him, but the houses all around remained dark and quiet, although…the shadows seemed to be deepening. She had an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach; like she was expecting, anticipating something, but she didn’t know what it was.

He peered into the shadows around the house next door, acting as if someone
was
speaking to him, although Staci couldn’t hear a thing. Then he nodded, at first tentatively, then enthusiastically.

Still nodding, he staggered off next door, walking into shadows that were so black, she couldn’t make out anything in them. Not even him.

A chill went up her back as she waited for him to come back out again—because if past history was anything to go by, he wasn’t done yet. But he didn’t. And the night was utterly silent.

Probably has a friend living next door,
she told herself, as that icy unease crept over her.
Probably let him in to sleep it off.

Her whole body shivered for a moment, then she shook her head. After a few deep breaths, she went back to her shoulder bag and pulled out the cell phone. It’d be better to call Dylan now, while everything was still fresh…and also to keep her from thinking too much about what had just happened.

Dylan picked up after the first ring.

“Staci. It’s kind of late…is everything okay?”