Sanctum (10 page)

Jordan had worn a fresh pair of black skinny jeans and a baggy dark shirt with a Transformer bleached onto the front.

“I thought we were just going to sneak off,” Dan had whispered to him as they neared the party. “Why did you guys dress up?”

“It’s a trick, Dan,” Jordan had said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You know? A disguise? If we showed up looking scrubby, they’d probably get suspicious.”

“Scrubby?” Dan had looked down, scrutinizing his sweater and khakis. “Is that what I look like?”

“No, you look just fine. You’ve always been able to pull off that effortless you thing.”

“What
me
thing?”

“Just take the compliment, Dan,” Jordan had said with a breathless little chuckle. They could see the laugh actually hang in the air as puffy white mist. “You’re doing you and it’s working just fine.”

Now, inside the off-campus house, with people everywhere, lights flashing, and music blasting, Dan understood why Lara had worn practically nothing under her coat: it was sweltering here.

He tugged on his strangling collar and kept searching for Abby. Where had she gone? Didn’t she know they were supposed to sneak off? Maybe some smooth older guy had grabbed her for a dance.

Perish the thought.

“Lost?” Micah shouted, wading over to him through the sea of thrashing bodies. “Here! I brought you something, but it’s our little secret.”

A red plastic cup emerged, smelling distinctly like rubbing alcohol and smoke. Dan stuck his nose down into it and felt his throat close up. “What is it?” he yelled.

“Bourbon and Coke! Didn’t know what you wanted, figured this was all-purpose.”

“Thanks,” Dan said, sipping carefully, then forcing the liquid down over his protesting taste buds. The tailpipe of a beat-up old truck probably tasted better. He scanned the party, trying to think of something to say. “I don’t see many other prospies here.”

None, in fact.

“We’re a selective bunch,” Micah said, slurping down his own drink like it was water. With the red cup between thumb and forefinger, he pointed toward the milling dance crowd. “Looks like your buds are having a good time.”

He wasn’t kidding. Abby and Lara twirled around each other, laughing hysterically at what, Dan could only guess. Jordan, meanwhile, seemed to be trying to yell at Cal and dance with him simultaneously. Cal’s hand landed on Jordan’s hip, and Dan didn’t know whether to drink more or rush into the crowd and yank his friend away protectively.

“Don’t sweat it,” Micah said, as if reading his mind. “Like I said, Cal isn’t always a bad guy.”

“He didn’t make the best first impression,” Dan muttered, but Micah managed to hear him and shrugged.

“Honestly, he’s had a rough couple years. Lost his dad. It was a big blow. They were close. That kind of thing can knock you loose for a while, you know? I’m just hoping he’ll land on his feet again. I miss having him as a friend,” he said.

Dan’s throat still burned from the single sip of alcohol. “I didn’t know his dad died. . . . That sucks.”

“Yeah, back when we were roomies.” Micah shook his head, watching Jordan and Cal drift away from the dancers to chat near the stairwell in the corner. “He was a big-shot alum. They buried him in the campus cemetery.”

Before Dan could respond, a fumbling, drunken boy in a football jersey slammed right into Abby and Lara, both of whom turned on him, pushing back. The three shouted back and forth before the girls managed to spin him around and toss him outside the circle of dancers.

“She’s tough,” Micah observed with a laugh. “Your girl, I mean.”

“Yeah.” He felt the wind leak out of his sails as she turned back to Lara and kept on dancing. Why didn’t she want to hang out with him? “My girl.”

“Something the matter there? I mean . . . Shoot, don’t share if you don’t wanna.”

Dan took a quick slug from his cup, feeling the whiskey burn down his throat. God, his parents would murder him if they could see him now.
Sorry, Mom and Dad
. He turned his back on the dancers, worried that if Abby so much as glanced at him she would know he was talking about her. “We just never really defined what we are. Sometimes it seems like things are great, but sometimes it feels like we’re not even really a couple. And I’m afraid if I ask what we are, it will, like, pop the bubble, and we won’t be anything.”

“Just ask, man,” Micah said. “She’s not a puzzle box. The next time you two get a down moment just lay it out there. Trust me, you’ll feel better knowing exactly where you stand.”

“Maybe I will, but—”

“Telling secrets?”

Dan spun quickly, almost slopping half his drink down his shirt when he found Abby right there behind him, cheeks red and forehead shining with sweat. His pocket buzzed. Startled, Dan almost dropped the cell phone as he retrieved it, venting a long internal groan.

Just checking in, sweetie. How’s campus? Behaving yourself?

Mom. How did parents have just the perfect timing? He would answer later, he decided, when he wasn’t facing down both Abby and Micah.

“Dan was just telling me what a special girl you are,” Micah said, smooth as silk. “Weren’t you, buddy?”

“Um, yes. Yes exactly,” Dan stammered. He tried to give Micah a grateful smile, but his host didn’t notice.

“Now, see?” Her face broke into a wide smile, and she leaned heavily on his arm, touching her cheek to his shoulder. “That’s just . . . That’s really sweet, Dan.” She grimaced, pointing at the boy in the football jersey who had crashed into her and Lara. “That jerk, on the other hand, is not what I would call sweet. Can you believe he actually called me princess? Princess! He doesn’t even know me. Like that’s some kind of compliment . . .” He had never heard her talk this quickly or with so many hand gestures. Abby whirled on him, pressing her pointy forefinger into his breastbone. “Tell me you would not call me that.”

“Um,” Dan stalled, thankful he hadn’t had more to drink. “Khaleesi?”

“Better.” She smirked, putting both hands on her hips. “Yeah, I’ll take that.”

“How many drinks have you had?” he asked gently. Micah left them behind, slipping through the dancers, aiming for Football Jersey.

“Two . . . ish? Twoish or threeish?” It wasn’t funny exactly, especially not when they were supposed to be sneaking off any minute, but she kept poking her tongue out to the side in the silliest way. . . .

“Guys!” Both he and Abby turned to find Jordan, balancing three red plastic cups in his hands. “Here! Drink up!”

Dan sniffed the cup curiously. “Rum? Vodka?”

“No, idiot, it’s just soda. Drink more or we’ll stand out. The others will be tipsy soon and we can disappear. Finish the one you’ve got, Dan, then have this one.”

Jordan was right. Everyone had a red cup in their hand. Some had two. Dan spotted Cal in the corner tossing his back like a man dying of thirst.

“Good call, Jordan,” Abby said, peering out from behind the lip of her cup. “Very sneaky.”

“Hey, you’re not allowed in here. . . .” It looked like there was a bottleneck forming at the door, with two girls in matching sorority sweatshirts attempting to elbow their way into the party. The girls were forced to turn around when both Micah and Cal blocked the entryway.

“Turn around,” Cal snapped, pointing over the girls’ heads to the cold, dark night outside. “I said turn around. Now, slo-mo, or I’ll call the cops.”

That had to be an empty threat. If the cops really did show up, they’d find underage drinking and music so loud it was rattling windows down the block.

“God, I had no idea this party was VIP only,” Jordan muttered.

“We should go now,” Abby said. “While they’re distracted.”

Dan followed her to the edge of the room, skirting the dancers, careful to avoid Lara, who was chatting up someone not far from the doorway leading out of the living room. Dan’s shoes stuck to the floor as they left the house through the kitchen and the open back door, where two girls were practically glued together against the jamb.

“And I believe we call that ‘sucking face,’” Jordan said with a snort.

“Don’t be gross, Jordan,” Abby chided.

“What? It’s true!”

“You’re
staring
.”

“I’m just trying to be encouraging,” he said glumly, then he sniffled and wiped at invisible tears under his eyes. “It’s just . . . It’s just so beautiful. Ha. I should snap a pic and send it to Mom and Dad. Surprise!”

“You absolutely will not,” Abby said, cackling.

“Guys? Can we concentrate, please?” Dan led them to a stand of trees a little ways behind the house. They huddled together in the dark under the leaves. He pulled out his mobile and opened the GPS application. The coordinates they had been able to pinpoint online were already saved as bookmarks and popped up as little red triangles on the display. Next to the triangles, tiny letters indicated their distance from the various destinations.

“This one looks closest,” Dan said, pointing to one just down the road from the party. “Hopefully we can check it out and get back to the party before anyone notices we’re gone.”

“I got Lara’s cell number,” Abby assured them both. “If we’re out too long, I’ll just text her to say one of us got sick and we went back to campus.”

“That’s all well and good, but the real question here is, what if someone lives at this address? We can’t just barge in and go,
Hi! We think your house might have something to do with a dead guy and his maniacal schemes, mind if we take a look in your kitchen?
” Jordan plastered on a giant, phony smile. “What’s the plan?”

“If it’s occupied, we’ll have to come back in the daytime,” Abby suggested. “Or skip it.”

Dan looked up and away from the phone, considering Jordan’s question. He stared blankly into the shadows for a moment, his eyes unfocusing until they landed on a spot of silvery, almost glowing light. He squinted, watching the shape resolve into the image of a little boy. It was the same wide-eyed child from dinner, his head still bruised and bleeding, but this time he was reaching forward, holding something.

What is it? What do you want to show me?

“Daniel, come out and play, come out and play. . . .”

He couldn’t see what was hidden inside the tiny clenched fist, and then the boy was gone and Jordan had him by the shoulder, shaking.

“Hey! Dan! Snap out of it. Dan? Earth to Dan!”

“Did you see it again?” Abby asked, accurately interpreting his sudden pallor, the slight tremor in his hands. His hand tightened around the phone.

“I’m fine,” he murmured. “It’s gone. We should . . . We should get going.”

But moving away from the presumed safety of the tree and the now-comforting glow of the house party lights proved harder than Dan expected. Every step he took into the darkness came with the threat of seeing that silver glow again, and then the boy, and maybe the next time he wouldn’t vanish.

Abby leaned in to glance at the GPS map, and together they cut across the back lawn to the street behind it. Half a block east, and they came to the crossroads. A single streetlamp illuminated the sign.

“Ellis,” Abby read. “And that house is ten-fourteen. We must be close.”

“I don’t know if I’m excited or about to puke on myself,” Jordan whispered as they crossed the street. The rain had stopped hours ago, leaving the pavement slick and shining. They left behind the wan glow of the streetlamp and plunged back into darkness. It was late enough that most houses sat quiet, all their lights turned off.

Dan walked more quickly without meaning to, half jogging as they traveled down the street. At precisely the midway point of the block, he stopped, watching as Abby’s phone lit up the mailbox at the edge of the lawn.

“This is it,” she said. “No cars in the driveway. No lights. What do you guys think?”

“What did you
think
we would do? Ring the doorbell?” Jordan muttered. “Come on, let’s find a back window and hope they don’t have an attack dog.”

“It looks abandoned,” Dan added.

“And creepy. Yuck.”

Jordan had a point. The Victorian house had seen better days. Paint peeled in long shavings, stuck to the clapboards by the damp. Three stories high, the house pushed to the limits of the property, too much building for too little land. It had been dark green once, or maybe blue.

Dan refused to look up at the windows, convinced he would see the pale, bleeding boy staring back at him.

The second they set foot on the side porch, the boards creaked. The trio shuffled along slowly, each of them trying to minimize the noise as they neared the back of the house. Jordan stuck his head out and peered around the corner.

“Looks clear,” he said, “and I don’t hear anything or anyone. I should be able to get us inside.” And with that, he pulled a small tool out of his pocket—not a lockpick, but a kind of flat, wide trowel.

“Why am I not surprised?” Dan murmured, smirking.

“Good for windows,” Jordan whispered. “I had to use this baby a few times at home.”

He slipped the edge of the tool into the sill, sliding it into the rotting gap. With a few pumps of his elbow, the window rattled and then Dan heard a faint popping noise.