Beyond the Grave (18 page)

Trisha sat down on the steps. “They need to work this out.”

“Do you know what happened at the police station?” Annalise asked.

She did. Shane had called her before leaving the station and given her a quick rundown. Pate had not been present, but his lawyer was there with a briefcase full of new complaints. The ancient electric chair had been destroyed, and the room where it had once stood had suffered extensive damage, as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to the cinder-block walls. It was the same room where the box of equipment had been discovered.

“Fortunately, they both had alibis. But your Dad had to report the equipment as stolen, and Pate is livid.” Trisha sighed.
“According to the lawyer, Pate claims to hear voices inside the building all the time now and says that we are responsible.”

“No judge is going to take that seriously,” Ryan said.

“I know, and that's part of the problem.”

Annalise sat down next to Trisha. “What do you mean?”

“He's desperate to be taken seriously. Desperate people do strange things sometimes.”

She told us about printing out the emails Pate had sent to Shane. There were dozens of them, and according to Trisha, their content grew progressively weirder and angrier. “One of them was a three-page rant. It was ridiculous.”

“Don't worry, Mom.” Ryan crossed his arms. “If some whack job decides to start causing problems, you've got me and Jeff. He's not getting anywhere near you.” He paused. “He won't get near any of you. We're family now.”

Annalise beamed, then stood up and hugged him. “I always wanted a big brother,” she said. Her sudden show of affection made Ryan blush and look down at his feet. Trisha laughed and joined in. I held back, but when Annalise reached for me, I let them pull me into their little circle.

“Think they're done talking in there?” Ryan asked, releasing us. “Because I'm starving.”

Trisha decided to pick up pizzas for dinner and asked Ryan to go back to the apartment and get Noah. “I feel like I haven't seen him in ages,” she said. I tried not to show my delighted relief.

After they left, Annalise and I remained on the porch. We gazed out at the empty street and watched the sky grow darker. When we were able to see a sprinkling of stars, Annalise spoke. “Everything with Dad and Shane will be fine, I know it. Shane's family.”

We got up. “You're right,” I said. “And you can always trust family.”

The red numbers on my bedside clock seemed to mock me. It was 3:14. I should have been asleep, deep inside the caverns of a meandering dream. But all I could think about was Noah.

Dad and Shane had resolved their issues by the time Annalise and I came back inside the house. They were sitting at the kitchen table, immersed in a quiet discussion. They smiled when we walked in, and that's how I knew things were okay. Not because they were smiling, but because of the way those smiles looked. There was no forced sincerity, no overly toothy grins. They just looked at us, and their natural reaction shone through. Annalise saw it, too. She squeezed my hand before announcing that dinner was on its way.

The pizzas arrived, but Noah did not. Ryan returned with a hastily scribbled note he'd found on the counter in which Noah had said he had to film a football game for AV class. A quick search on Lincoln High's website showed that there was no game scheduled. My heart sank. He wasn't deceiving me directly, but he had intentionally lied to his family. I knew why. How much proof did I need that he was being taken over by the Watcher?

I turned my attention from the exasperating numbers on the clock to the billowing plastic on my window. Ryan had scheduled someone to replace it, but the work wouldn't be done until the next day. Annalise was asleep in the guest room, so I couldn't retreat there for a sense of safety. The cloudy plastic sheet blocked any view I might have had of the half-moon perched in the sky. The moon would have been nicer to stare at than the clock.

Thoughts of Noah weren't the only things fueling my insomnia. I had finally been able to process the EVP session I had taped before my room was trashed. Using our voice analysis software, I isolated a few seconds of the digital recording, cleaned it up, and heard much clearer answers to some of the questions I had asked.

“What am I supposed to do?” my voice asked.

The jumbled response was difficult to decipher. It took me a half dozen tries before I was able make out the response.

“Close the gate.”

It was little more than a murmur, but there was an undeniable urgency behind the command. I replayed it several times, hoping I had heard it wrong, but the words were unmistakable, and I knew they were directly connected to the creepy graffiti sprayed inside the penitentiary:
The gate is now open.

I copied some of the DVD footage so I could show Michael and Bliss what the EVP meant. Then I worked on understanding the answer to the final question I had asked.

“Can you tell me the real name of the Watcher?”

Again, the word “us” stood out to me, but it wasn't until I cleaned up the audio that I realized my otherworldly guide was giving me a real name, a name with which I was already familiar. I wrote it down, packed up all the evidence I needed and stored everything inside my backpack.

Hours later, and I was still struggling to sleep. Every little
noise startled me. The ice maker in the kitchen rumbled, causing my tired eyes to fly open in a panic. Down the hall Dad grumbled in his sleep, and I almost ran to his room to make sure he was okay.

I sighed and turned over in my bed, desperate for even a few minutes of rest. The plastic stretched with another breeze, and the crinkling sound it made grated on my nerves so badly that I got out of bed, stomped over to the window, and ripped off the covering.

There was now nothing separating me from the night. But did it matter? Was a sheet of plastic really going to keep the Watcher out of my room? The only thing it was protecting me from was the possible presence of a misdirected squirrel.

The plastic fell to the floor. I rose out of bed and leaned out the window, breathing in deeply. There was nothing like nighttime air. It felt purer to me, like cool water. I stood there, my eyes closed and my breath slow and even, trying not to think of all the things pulling at my mind.

A dog barked somewhere nearby and I opened my eyes, immediately scanning the yard for Dante in case he had escaped. But it wasn't Dante I saw below my window.

It was Noah.

His back was to the house, but I knew it was him. He stood perfectly still, his head tilted up as if he was gazing at the half-moon glowing in the sky. It was unnatural, and the bizarre image froze my heart. I watched him for a while, waiting to see if he would move.

A memory of Marcus hit me like a sudden headache. I had seen him months earlier, crawling down the middle of our dark street. He had been possessed by the Watcher, and that possession had given him superhuman speed and strength. I shuddered. Noah could not become that creature. I could not
allow
him to become that creature.

I backed away from the window but kept my eyes on Noah. He hadn't moved from his place in the yard. It was like looking at a statue.

My robe lay in a heap on the floor. I put it on and tied it tight. Then, still watching Noah, I moved away from the window until my back was pressed against the bedroom door and I could no longer see him.

A decision had to be made. Should I go outside and try to talk to him, or should I wake Dad and tell him something was wrong? I stared at the window, half expecting Noah to suddenly appear there, crouched like a gargoyle in the open window frame.

No, I thought. I would not be afraid of my boyfriend. He was not a demon. He was someone who needed help, and he would never hurt me. I tiptoed down the stairs as quickly as I could and made my way to the kitchen door, flicking on the back porch light. My hand trembled over the dead bolt, but I made myself turn it and open the door. Then I took a tentative step outside, into the chilly night.

Noah was still standing in the exact same spot, in the exact same position. The porch light illuminated his back, but the glare made it difficult for me to see him. I stayed near the back door. “Noah?” I was afraid to get too close. Marcus was still in my head, his eyes filled with an inky blackness. If I saw the same thing in Noah's gaze, I would know it was too late.

Another step forward, and I was almost within range of being able to touch him. “Noah? It's me.”

My voice didn't provoke any reaction from him. It was as if he was an ice sculpture frozen to the spot. I waited, wondering how long we could stay out here. I needed to see his face.

I carefully walked around him, keeping a few feet between
us. Finally I was standing in front of him, about an arm's length away.

His eyes were closed. Was he asleep? If he was sleepwalking, I was pretty sure I wasn't supposed to startle him or even try to wake him. But he couldn't stand outside all night, either.

“Do you know where you are?” I asked. Maybe he would react to my voice and I could bring him out of his sleepwalking trance that way.

“I followed it here.” His voice was hoarse.

“What did you follow?”

“The burgundy car.”

Immediately, I spun around to face the street. It was empty as far as I could see. There was no car. I turned back to face Noah, ready to ask him more questions.

His eyes were open.

I thought of Mom's vacant stare. This was similar. He wasn't looking at me—he was looking through me. But his eyes were green. Pure green, with no hint of the darkness I'd seen in Marcus. My relief gave me the courage to step closer and touch his shoulder.

“Time to wake up,” I whispered.

He blinked once, then turned his head so he was looking at me. “Charlotte?” He noticed our surroundings. “What are we doing out here?”

“I think you were sleepwalking. Do you remember anything?”

He shivered. “What time is it?”

“Time to go inside. Come on.” I tugged lightly at his arm. At first, it was like trying to move stone. He was fixed in place. But then he relented, and I led him across the yard and into my house.

Once we were inside, I bolted the back door shut and had Noah sit down in a kitchen chair while I got him a glass of
water. “My head hurts,” he murmured, so I got him a couple aspirin, as well. He was shaking and, although I hated to admit it, smelled bad. He was wearing the same shirt I'd seen him in last time, and his hair was matted down.

“You need rest,” I said softly. “I'm going to get some blankets, and you're going to sleep on the sofa. I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere, okay?”

He nodded, his eyes glassy. I ran upstairs, grabbed blankets and a pillow from the hall closet as quietly as I could, and came back downstairs. It was a relief to find Noah still sitting at the kitchen table, drinking his water. I had almost thought he would disappear into the night when my back was turned.

I made up the sofa and helped him lie down. He was burning up but shivering at the same time. I tucked the blankets around him, then sat down on the floor.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “So tired.”

“I'm going to stay right here,” I said. “If you need anything, I'll be right here.”

He fell asleep almost immediately. For the next hour, I held his hand and occasionally pressed my scarred palm to his fiery forehead. Then I fell asleep, my hand still wrapped in his, my head on his arm.

When I woke up, he was gone.

The gnomes were playing a football game when I pulled up to Bliss's house the next morning. Statues with red hats stood on one side, green on the other. I guessed the ones in the middle were the players. Someone was having way too much fun messing with the ceramic dwarves.

I rang the doorbell and gulped down the last of my jumbo cup of coffee while I waited. I didn't like the bitter taste, but after yet another night with not enough sleep, I needed the jolt of caffeine. If I could have injected the stuff directly into my veins, I would have.

Waking up on the floor hadn't been the best way to start my day. I had no memory of Noah leaving, but the front door was unlocked and Dad, who was usually up before seven, hadn't seen him. I called Noah's cell phone and left a message asking him to call me back. He was sick, he was sleepwalking and his comment about the burgundy car had left me rattled.

Trisha had arrived as I'd poured my first cup of coffee in the kitchen. She had planned a busy Saturday for all of us. The guys would be getting fitted for their tuxedos, while Annalise and I were to accompany Trisha for a bridal gown fitting,
followed by finalizing our own bridesmaid dresses. Ryan had arranged for his friend to fix my window while we were away. I asked Trisha about Noah and she told me that he hadn't gone to school. “I think he's catching a cold,” she said, shaking her head. “He's still in bed, but Ryan promised to wake him in time for the tuxedo fitting.”

At least he had found his way home. It was something, but I knew he was sinking, being pulled down into a murky abyss by forces I didn't want to think about. We needed to do something soon. And we would. That's why I was at Bliss's house. I had an hour before I needed to be back, and I wanted Bliss and Michael to listen to the EVPs I had transcribed.

Bliss answered the door wearing jeans and a pink T-shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. It was the most casual I'd ever seen her.

“Hey. I didn't think you'd be here until later.”

I shifted my backpack. “Couldn't wait. I figured out those EVPs, and I need you to listen to them now.”

She let me in. The hallway seemed less narrow, and when she led me into the living room, I saw that one entire wall was clear of boxes.

“Wow. Bliss, this is fantastic.”

“Yeah? My mom's away at a conference, so Michael and I worked on it yesterday.”

I placed my backpack on the recliner. “Would your mom be upset if you cleaned? I thought she was trying to help.”

“It's not the cleaning that upsets her,” Bliss said. “It's what happens when we try.”

She had mentioned before how attempting to remove anything from the house resulted in items being thrown against the walls and lights turning on and off. Of course they were scared.

“So how has Michael helped?” One way was obvious: sig
nificant progress had been made in both the front hallway and living room.

“We started working after lunch yesterday.” Bliss looked at the wall that was no longer blocked with towers of stuff. “As soon as we moved the first box, there was a reaction.”

Boxes had opened, releasing a geyser of old papers. A lamp had flicked on before tipping sideways and falling to the floor. Bliss had been ready to run screaming from the house, but Michael had stood his ground. He had ignored the chaos and methodically picked up boxes, taken them outside and placed them in a Dumpster he had rented. Bliss had calmed down and did the same, and they'd been able to fill the Dumpster within a few hours.

“The entire time we were dodging newspapers and falling cardboard,” she said. “But neither one of us was directly hit with anything. It was like we were inside a snow globe and it was all shaken up, but the snow wasn't falling on us.” She shook her head. “And when we were too tired to do more?” She snapped her fingers. “Everything stopped, just like that. It was like someone had turned off a tornado.”

I noticed a trail of papers leading to the front door, as if a wind had blown from the corner of the room and pushed them to that point. From the living room I could see into the dining room. Boxes had tipped toward the windows. Again, it looked like everything was being shoved forward.

“It sounds terrifying,” I said. “Do you think you were able to handle it because you're a Protector now?”

“No.” Bliss sat down on the floor while I took the recliner. “I haven't been a Protector for very long, you know? There's so much I have to learn.” She frowned. “But it's more than that. I have a hard time accepting that my grandfather is now some angry spirit who refuses to let us move on. It doesn't make sense.”

It didn't make sense to me, either. Bliss had adored him and they had shared a close relationship. Why would his energy be so angry?

“Enough about me.” Bliss adopted her no-nonsense tone. “What's going on with you?”

I filled her in on Noah's sleepwalking episode outside my house. “He's getting worse,” I said. “We have to do something for him.” I unzipped my backpack and pulled out the DVD and digital recorder. “And I think this is the first step to finding an answer.”

I gave her a brief rundown of what was on the DVD, as well as the EVP I had captured telling me to “close the gate.” Then there was the name. I didn't understand why, but the voice had said Marcus was the real name of the Watcher. It was confusing, because Marcus had also been the name of the last person possessed by the Watcher.

Bliss looked as puzzled as I felt. “Are you sure?”

“It took me a while, but yeah, I'm sure.”

“Charlotte, I have to tell you—”

She stopped speaking and looked toward the staircase. Someone was coming downstairs. A moment later, Michael stood in the doorway. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” I was surprised to see him. “Late night?”

“Yeah.” He yawned. “Bliss, you mind if I take a quick shower?”

“Sure.” Her cheeks were as pink as her T-shirt. Michael went back upstairs. We could hear the slide of the shower door, followed by the water running.

I raised an eyebrow at Bliss. “Your mom's away and Michael spent the night?”

She shook her head and turned an even darker shade of pink. “You know it's not like that.”

“If you say so.” I was teasing her, but from her embarrassed reaction I could tell that she was starting to develop a little crush on her mentor. Her normally polished appearance contrasted with Michael's more informal take on fashion, but somehow I could see them together.

She cleared her throat. “Didn't you say you had a dress fitting today?”

I got up. “I'm going, I'm going.”

“Michael and I will look everything over and talk to you later, okay?” Bliss walked me to the door. “Thanks for bringing this over. I know it will help.”

“Good.” I paused at the door. “What were you going to tell me earlier?”

“Right.” She glanced toward the stairs. “Nothing much, just that we have the list of names narrowed down to less than a dozen.”

“Great. Oh, and Bliss?” I smiled. “Maybe you should take a towel upstairs to Michael. You know, for after his shower.”

Her eyes widened. I began laughing and she shoved me out the door, trying to suppress a smile.

When I got home, Annalise was waiting. “We're going to be late. You have everything you need?”

“It's a dress fitting. What do I need besides myself?”

I wondered how much of my day would be spent riding in the car. It seemed like a waste of energy. There were real problems that needed to be handled, and I was off to try on dresses? It seemed stupid, but I knew I needed to keep going. The wedding was important. It was a fixed date, and it helped me focus on the fact that Noah needed to be better by then.

Annalise drove and I closed my eyes, relaxing a little as she chatted. Jeff had arrived late the night before. All the guys, including Shane and Dad, were now at the tuxedo place. “

Noah's there, right?” I asked.

“Of course he's there. Where else would he be?”

I didn't know. Following the mysterious burgundy car? Hanging around the Southern State Penitentiary? Sound asleep in his bed? At least he was surrounded by his family. Now that Jeff was home, Trisha had all her sons together. I doubted they would let Noah slip away, no matter what his excuse might be.

Trisha was already wearing her wedding dress when Annalise and I arrived at the bridal boutique. “What do you think?” she asked.

“Gorgeous,” Annalise breathed.

I agreed. It was an understated, cream-colored gown with capped sleeves made of lace. Its simplicity made it elegant. Trisha looked beautiful. And seeing her like that, happy and nervous and so eager for her big day, made me want to be there. I wanted her and Shane to celebrate a perfect day and I wanted to be a part of it.

The saleswoman brought in our bridesmaid dresses. Annalise and I put on the butter-yellow gowns. The empire waist looked good on me, but the color was not my favorite. Annalise looked great, though, and Trisha beamed at us. “It's just what I wanted,” she said. “This is turning out to be such a wonderful day.”

I wouldn't go so far as to call it wonderful, but I had to admit it was shaping up to be a pretty good day despite everything. Bliss and Michael were close to finding the Watcher's real name, which would be a vital tool in conquering the entity. Noah would be spending all day with his family, so I didn't have to worry too much about him. But when things were going well, I tended to stop myself from getting excited. Based on my experiences over the past year, I was beginning to believe that I had to pay for every good moment with an
onslaught of bad ones. Although, I reasoned, wasn't I due for a day without drama, paranormal or otherwise?

With the fitting finally over, Annalise and I prepared to head back home. Trisha was meeting “her boys” for a special lunch, and Dad had called Annalise to suggest that the three of us do the same.

Maybe it was time to tell Dad about the Watcher. I brought it up on the ride back, ready to go with whatever Annalise decided would be best.

“Yes,” she said. “I know the timing is weird with the wedding, but that might be a good thing. Maybe he won't focus so much on the negative when something so positive is about to happen.” She nodded. “We should tell him today, Charlotte. During lunch. You ready?”

“No.” I stared out the passenger window. “But I won't ever be ready. So let's do this and get it over with.”

Dad was on the phone when we got back. I ran up to my room to check on my window, and was happy to find that Ryan's friend had completed the work. My window looked like nothing had ever happened to it. I changed my shirt and went back downstairs, prepared for an uncomfortable lunch. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe this would all work out.

Then I saw Dad.

He emerged from the kitchen, still holding the phone.

“Where do you want to have lunch?” Annalise asked. “How about someplace new?”

He looked as if he was surprised to see us standing in the hall. “I got a call,” he said. His eyes were wet with tears. “I got a call from one of the nurses.”

Annalise put her hand on Dad's arm. “What happened?” she whispered.

“She needs us there. We have to go right now.” Dad
sounded like a zombie. His eyes were wide with shock. Annalise had started crying, so I grabbed the car keys.

“Let's go,” I said, trying to sound stronger than I felt. Something had happened, and Mom needed us. As we left the house, I caught a glimpse of her slippers, still tucked beneath the computer desk. Part of me wanted to grab the blue shoes so we could bring them to her.

And part of me knew that it didn't matter.