Crossed Out (15 page)

The image faded and again I saw a good-looking guy, a dark dirt field, and a cowering gray spirit. Was I going nuts or what?

“Talk about gratitude.” Mark raised the cross up high. “I’ll ignore your rudeness.” He glanced over at me. “See, I’m not so bad, huh?”

The girl clutched her throat and stared, wide-eyed, first at the cross, then at Mark. “Leave me alone.”

“Mark, just do it, okay?” I shifted in place, not sure I was really helping this spirit. And definitely wishing I wasn’t here.

“Right,” he said. He slammed the cross into the ground. A whoosh of air blew loose leaves in my face, slapping me.

Instead of a warm fuzzy feeling, darkness crashed down on me. I felt as if a brick had been thrown on my chest.

“What are you doing?” I screamed at Mark.

The sky tore open, and the girl was sucked toward the hole. She struggled like a wild animal screaming, clawing at the ground.

“Mother!” she screamed while trying to kick away from the hole.

I covered my ears to block out the unholy sounds, coming from both her and from deep inside the crack. But each sound intensified. I fell to the ground and curled up like a pill bug, quaking.

Just as quickly the rumbling stopped.

An eerie silence hung in the air. Afraid to get up, I peeked to check out the scene. Nothing remained but a mess of leaves, twigs and of course, Mark.

“Sweet,” Mark whistled. “Man, was that a rush, or what?”

I gulped back a sour taste in my mouth. I had to get away, but how? I lay on the ground with my elbows and butt sunk into the damp grass. Now that the spirit had left, the back lot of the fairgrounds seemed even more isolated and creepy.

Shadows crept up half of Mark’s face, intensifying it’s coldness. I wished I’d listened to Dr. Anthony and – I hated to admit it – Dylan.

I didn’t want to wait around and see if Mark would do the same thing with me. I needed to split, now. I was glad I’d decided to bring my cell phone.

“Hey, where are
you
going?” Mark asked.

“Um, nowhere?” I swallowed back a lump in my throat, fearing what Mark would do.

“You believe me now, don’t you?”

“Huh?”

He must have noticed my confusion, because he added, “I also help spirits.”

He drew nearer. His face changed rapidly. One moment he looked like the hot guy I’d fantasized about, the next, sharp lines were carved into the aged features of a decrepit man.
Who was he?

I had to find out.

“Wait a minute.” I jumped up and took a step backwards, ignoring the dampness of my jeans. Folding my arms, I glared at him. “What did you do to that spirit?”

“I sent her back.” Mark shrugged. “Why?”

“No way.” I moved closer to one of the oak trees. “I don’t think you sent her back to Heaven.”

“Who said she was going there?” Mark stepped closer to me. “What’s the big deal anyway? We don’t decide where they go. It’s not like we’re God.”

“I don’t believe you.” My heart raced. I didn’t want to be here. I searched for my cell phone in my back pocket and prayed Dylan would answer and get me the hell away from—

“Come on, Steph,” Mark said. “You can trust me.” He brushed his hand against my face. Shivers went up my spine.

Mark pulled at the cross necklace that hung around his neck. A gleam of light reflected off his snug white t-shirt. I glanced down and watched as his silver cross danced back and forth, back and forth. It finally settled against his chest.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away.

Any worries or concerns I’d had dissipated into the cold night air.

His black leather jacket only emphasized his buff shoulders.
My gosh. What was I thinking?
Who cared about that girl? All that mattered was me and Mark. Together and alone.

My hands ached to touch him. I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck and savor the moment.

My gosh, I couldn’t believe how blue his eyes were.

“You can, can’t you?” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Trust me?”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

He pulled me close and pressed his lips on mine with an intensity that caused a full-fledged fireworks show to explode in my head.

Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh.
This was even better than Haagan Dazs dark chocolate ice cream, whipped cream, cherries, and walnuts.

Calorie free and so much yummier!

He drew away and gave me his one-dimple smile.

I barely caught my breath. Why had I doubted him? Didn’t I want someone who’d understand me? Not someone like Dylan who’d blown me off when I took him to a rescue.

“Come on, let’s go home.” He took my hand.

“Sure,” I giggled. His touch made me feel lightheaded.

As we walked back to his Harley, I couldn’t resist looking back at the talisman.

And wished I didn’t.

Smoke drifted off the wood. Black singed the edges of the cross.

Don’t look there.
A small voice – a lot like Mark’s – whispered in my head.
It’s not your problem.

“Stephanie?”

Mark stopped and concern lined his face. His cross necklace shone in the darkness, beckoning me to come closer and to forget what I’d seen.

I turned away from the reminder of our night’s rescue.

Right, why was I worrying about something I couldn’t control? All that mattered was that one of the cutest guys in Sutter High had kissed me under a full Sacramento moon.

Cliché, I know.

But who cared?

Chapter 23

We stopped back at the coffee house. The moonlight seemed to bathe the building with a supernatural glow. I knew it was late but didn’t want to leave. The rescue by the fair grounds was hazy – usually I remembered everything that happened, but not this time.

Mark parked his bike in the back. He made his way to the door, opened it, and waited for me.

For a moment, a picture came to me. It was a scared girl, my age, fighting, screaming while being sucked into some kind of freaky vortex.

I held my breath.
Where did that come from?

“Come on,” Mark said, leaning against the door. The image faded.

Even from here, I could see his expressive gaze. I swear he must be a human magnet. I felt drawn to get closer to him. Whatever secrets he had, I wanted to know them.

“You trust me now?” he asked, pulling me to him.

I answered with a kiss.

He pulled away, smiling. “Good. I have something else.”

“More?” I could hardly breathe. I just wanted to continue to make out with him. Forget the crossings, the questions I had, and anything else.

“Yes,” he said. “We can continue this,” he lightly touched my nose, “later.”

“Promise?”

He chuckled. “Promise.”

He opened the back door, and motioned me in.

Inside, he turned on his flashlight. He pointed to the staircase. “Let’s go back to my room.”

Creak. Creak. Creak
.

The creaky floorboards put me on edge. I never liked going into dark empty buildings – one reason why I never got into the whole haunted house thing.

Ahhh. Ahhh.

I felt my skin crawl. “What was that? Did you hear it?”

Mark stopped. “Hear what?”

I glanced down, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. The place appeared to be empty – except for us of course. But I could have sworn I heard someone moan.

A one-dimple smile crept up Mark’s face.
Oh, lovely. Now he thinks I’m the biggest wimp.
Some guys liked that but I didn’t.

“Wow,” I laughed. “I’ve been watching way too many slasher flicks.” I clenched my fist and made a slashing movement.

Mark chuckled. “Yeah, right. It’s probably just mice. You know how old places attract them.” He continued up the staircase.

I didn’t know if that was any better. I hated any kind of rodent.

As I followed Mark, I couldn’t help but glance down at my feet, praying no honkin’-big rat decided to take a bite out of me.

At the end of the staircase, Mark waited. Shadows flickered across his face, masking his to-die-for good looks.

He held out his hand. “I have one more thing to share.”

I walked hand in hand with him, down the corridor. His hand felt cool, not clammy like some guys. He tightened his grip.

Talk about a bare place. Some faded posters hung on the walls, but nothing else.

Mark opened a door to the far right. It squeaked in protest.

An old musty smell filled the small room. One tiny window was the source of light. I turned to flip on the lights. Mark stopped me. “Don’t need them. This will be fast.”

An uneasy feeling made me pull away. “You sure? I probably should be going.”

“Wait,” he said. “This will be worth you coming.”

Anticipation fluttered inside me. What else could he show me?

I glanced around the room. Earlier, I hadn’t really paid any attention but now I couldn’t resist. Some of the same posters as outside were hanging in the room. A couple metal cabinets cluttered the area. A table, some mismatched chairs and an old couch did give it the appearance of a guy’s room. A bag of what appeared to be potato chips was on the table.

Mark opened one of the cabinets. An image of Dr. Anthony with the bloody cloth came back to me. I swallowed back the bile that threatened to come. Omigod, he didn’t have something like that in there, did he?

“Here.” Mark slammed the drawer shut. He turned around, holding the object in his hand.

I let out a sigh of relief. Whatever he had fit in the palm of his hand and in no way did it resemble a bloody cloth.

“What?” Mark asked. “Did you think I had something dead in here?” He chuckled. “Come on, Steph, you know me better than that.”

Do I?

He motioned me to come closer. A gust of air made me pull my hoodie closer. The backs of my legs itched.

No, it couldn’t be.
I withstood the urge to itch. I refused to believe any spirits were around. Didn’t we just help one?

I found myself moving toward Mark. He lifted the object up – a pair of glasses with large round blue frames and the letters CC on the side. Confused, I looked back at him.

“Remember when you asked me about why I didn’t decorate a cross?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said, not understanding why he was bringing this up.

“Well, maybe you got it all wrong. Did you ever think about that?” He turned the glasses around slowly. “Let’s just say this is what I do. You might call it decorating with the spirit’s own items.”

My first instinct was to say, “
Ew
. That’s nasty.” But something about what he said kind of made sense in a sick way.

“You’re saying those belonged to one of the girls?”

“Yes. And I have others.” He motioned me over. “Take a look.”

I stepped closer to the cabinet. Inside were a number of items – a ring, hoop earring, and what looked like a section of blond hair. I felt as if a spider crawled up my back.

“I don’t get it,” I said. “How do these things help the dead?”

“You know how you paint something on the cross?” He watched me. I nodded. “Well, I take something that actually belonged to that girl and then later put it by the cross. Then she gets to cross over.” He put the glasses down and picked up the hoop earring. “Think of it as a lotto ticket for the dead. With my help, she hits it big.”

Warning lights screamed in my head.
This isn’t right. Get out. Now.

Though I wanted to get the hell out of here, my legs stayed glued to one place. I couldn’t move. And oddly enough, I wanted to find out more. It wasn’t as if Dr. Anthony had really told me more about what a true rescuer did. I never received a manual for this calling.

“So what happens if you don’t take something?”

He continued to finger the earring in his hand. The gold shone. “They don’t go anywhere. They just stay.” He stared back at me, his blue eyes getting even bluer.

My eyes widened. Is that why Allison still hung around? Did I royally screw it up? An even worse thought came to me. Was I the reason for all the latest craziness?

“Don’t worry,” Mark said. “I can help you now.”

That didn’t help. I still felt terrible. If this would prevent other girls from being trapped here, then I would do it even if it creeped me out big time.

 “Can I?” I asked, leaning over and looking at the morbid collection. I pushed back the urge to hurl. These were things that belonged to people that now were….

Dead.

“Sure.” Mark shrugged his shoulders. “Why not?”

I felt like I’d stumbled into one of those freak shows – kind of creepy but still fascinating. I picked up what looked like a toe ring.

Then it hit me. Not only the terrible itch, but images of who this piece of jewelry had belonged to.
Stacy
– dark-haired, skinny, and running through what looked like a darkened alleyway, her face twisted into an expression of horror. My breath raced. I felt as if I’d joined her.

Don’t let him get me. Please, God. No!

“Wait, you okay?” Mark asked, fingering his silver cross. The moonlight from the one small window hit it casing a glow. The horror show left.

“Sorry,” I gasped. It felt so real. I couldn’t help glancing over my shoulder, scared I’d be found.

“It’s okay.” Mark stroked my cheek. “You’re with me. Nothing can happen.”

I glanced down at my wrist.

“Oh, my gosh, I really need to go. No wonder I was spacing out.”

Mark took the toe ring from my hand. Relief came over me. It probably was nothing, but I didn’t want to get closer to any of that stuff for awhile.

“Sure, let me take you home.” He put the jewelry inside the cabinet and closed it. “Now you know you can trust me. Later, you can come and help. We can be our own team.”

“Right. Our own team. That would be nice,” I said.

“Sweet,” Mark said, taking my hand. “Now you will never be alone.”

A flood of emotions rushed through me like a big tidal wave. I wanted to drown in these new and exciting sensations. Who needed a mentor? I had Mark.

Life was suddenly so sweet.

Chapter 24

After climbing the oak tree to get back into my bedroom, I took a final peek at Mark. He waved to me, then jumped back on his Harley, revved up, and faded into the darkness.