The Gathering Darkness

  “I can’t handle this,” I whispered into his chest. “I feel like I’m in a horror movie that won’t end.”

  “I know.” Instead of trying to make things sound better than they were, he agreed with me. “This is insane.” He raised his voice. “If it’s someone’s sick twisted idea of a joke, it’s not funny.”

  I attempted to push myself up.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, sounding concerned.

  “I’m okay now.”

  He looked at me not fully believing that I was alright, but helped me to get up anyway.

  I held up a hand. Blood trickled down my fingers and dripped off my wrist, forming a small puddle on the wooden floor.

  “Maybe you should see a doctor,” he said.

  “And tell him what? That I had a fight with the neighbor’s cat? I think you know as well as I do that I can’t take these injuries to a doctor.” I looked down at the crimson lines that were now soaked through the front of my tank top. “Where are we anyway?”

  “We’re in an old office in back of the Inn, on the main level,” he said.

  As tempted as I was to run out of the front door, I suddenly had an urge to explore the trunk. “Marcus, take me to the attic.”

  He looked at me as though I might be losing my mind. “But—”

  “I’m fine now, well except for a few dozen scratches covering my entire body that are bleeding for no apparent reason. Seriously, I need to see the trunk.” As if to affirm my decision, I felt the pendant turn from ice to soothing warmth against my chest, and I knew then that if he wouldn’t take me, I would go to the attic alone.

  “Okay, if that’s really what you want. We’ll have to be quiet so Evan doesn’t hear us.”

  So, with me tucked under Marcus’ arm, we left the room. When we came to the narrow staircase in the back section of the Inn, I turned to go up.

  “No, we can’t go that way,” Marcus said. “We’d have to walk past the room Evan’s painting. He might see us.”

  “But, we came down that way.”

  “We were just lucky he didn’t hear us.”

  “Okay, then which way?” I had a sinking feeling.

  “The main staircase.”

  “But, that’s where … .” I couldn’t speak of the horror I’d just witnessed there. I gripped his shirt with both hands.

  He tightened his arm around me. “It’s okay, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  The front door was closed. And as if it had never happened, the tray I’d dropped had been cleaned up, along with the mess.

  With my gaze lowered to the stairs, I squished myself into Marcus’ side, ready to scream at the slightest sound and, reluctantly, began the ascent. When we came close to where the painting hung, I closed my eyes and let him guide me along. Marcus assured me that the painting looked perfectly normal—to him it probably did. Once I was at the top, I let out a deep, shaky breath, but didn’t let go.

  “I wonder where Beth is. Didn’t she hear me scream?” I whispered as low as I could.

  “Beth’s kind of strange. Always gives me the creeps,” he whispered back.

  “Seriously? I thought you really liked her.”

  “She’s kind of pitiful. I can’t help but feel sorry for her when I see her, but I still think she’s weird.”

  I shuddered.

  We came to the attic stairway door. Marcus opened it carefully, cringing when its hinges squeaked. I could hear the ladder squeaking not far down the hallway.

  “Evan must be wondering where you are by now. Didn’t he hear me scream?”

  “Yeah, but he probably figures you saw a spider, and by now he knows I’m not coming back.”

  “Oh.” I could imagine Evan visualizing Marcus and me making out in some dark room in the Inn. As if.

  Chapter Eighteen

  As I clung to Marcus’ arm like static, the two of us stepped into the frigid coldness of the attic. Breath clouds expelled from our mouths. When my teeth started chattering, I had second thoughts. “Maybe we should just get out of here while we still can.”

  Marcus opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

  “I know, I know, you’re here.”

  “Actually, I was going to agree with you. Do you want to leave?”

  The nagging feeling won over my better judgment. “No, come on. You do have a flashlight though, right?”

  “Right here.” Marcus picked the flashlight up off the floor and turned it on. He also picked up a hammer and stuck the handle in his belt.

  As soon as we left the glow of the dangling light bulb behind, a series of bright flashes lit up the edges of the attic, followed by a sharp crack of thunder and a loud rumble. A squeak flew from my mouth. Outside the dormer windows, tree branches slashed violently against the panes of glass. The whole scene looked like something from a horror movie. But it was real, and I had the lead role.

  Marcus’ hand closed over mine and our fingers locked together. I situated myself as close to him as possible. Despite everything that was happening to me, I was very much aware of the chemistry between us.

  As if the path had been laid out for us, we found the trunk in no time at all. It was the oddest thing; our footprints from last time were gone. A fresh, untouched blanket of dust covered everything except the trunk. It was as if we’d never been here.

  “Here, hold this,” Marcus said handing me the flashlight.

  With a cold and bleeding hand, I reached out to take it. Marcus gave my hand a pained look, then wrapped his fingers around my wrist. He passed the flashlight over to my other hand, and proceeded to wipe away some of the blood off my fingers using his shirt tail.

  “Does it hurt a lot?”

  I shook my head while watching him dab gently at the cuts, and lying said, “It doesn’t matter.” Then I took my hand form him and shone the flashlight on the trunk.

  Marcus took the hammer out of his belt and gave the old padlock a whack. Sparks flew into the darkness. The crack echoed loudly through the attic. I froze, waiting for a reaction. Nothing but the echo. The lock didn’t budge either.

  He looked at me for approval. I nodded giving him the go-ahead. I braced myself for the next sharp crack. The hammer came down harder this time, breaking open the padlock with another array of sparks. It fell to the floor with a loud clank. We both cringed at the noise. I held my breath; sure that someone would have heard it this time. When nothing happened, we looked back at the trunk. Marcus pushed the leather straps off the top.

  “You take that end,” he said.

  By now, I was stiff from the cold, and the wetness from my blood-soaked clothing wasn’t helping matters.

  We both knelt in the dust in front of the trunk and put a hand on the bottom of the lid. Instantly, a shimmer of energy passed from the trunk into my fingers and up my arm, stopping where the pendant lay against my chest. By the surprised look on Marcus’ face, I knew he’d felt it too.

  Together, we lifted the heavy lid, easing it back on its hinges.

  “Oh! Do you feel that?” I asked.

  My fascination was mirrored on his face. As if someone had turned on a heater, the area surrounding us grew warm, dissolving our breath clouds. I waited for the smell of must and oldness to come from within the trunk, but there was no scent, just comforting warmth.

  As I knelt in front of the trunk feeling almost peaceful, I heard Marcus suck in a sharp intake of air. Afraid of what I might see, I glanced at him warily.

  “Brooke! Your cuts … they just disappeared in front of my eyes.”

  Overwhelmed by the warmth, I hadn’t noticed that I didn’t hurt anymore. I looked at the smooth, blood-free skin on the back of my hand and then reached up and touched the spot on my forehead where another freshly bleeding scratch had been. There was no blood. The scratch was gone. I looked down at my chest. The crimson lines had disappeared from the front of my tank top, and when I pulled the neck out to look inside, skin that had looked freshly massacred moments ago was now completel
y healed, as if the scratches had never been there.

  “They’re gone!” I heard the elation in my voice. “And look!” I pulled the pendant out by its chain. As if it was newly polished, it gleamed, brilliant silver. Mesmerized, I turned the warm metal over in my palm.

  “This is twisted,” Marcus said, staring at the pendant. Thunder sounded overhead, but no lightning reached us here, in the middle of the attic.

  “My life’s been twisted since I moved here,” I replied. “But you know that.”

  “I wish there was something I could do.”

  I looked at him incredulously. “You’re kidding, right? You’re here with me now. And you believe me. We’re figuring this out together. You’re already doing all you can.”

  He looked dissatisfied. “I just wish I could do more.”

  “Let’s just see what’s inside of the trunk so we can get out of here.” And maybe back to that kiss.

  I shone the flashlight inside the trunk. Marcus reached in and picked something out. He held it out between us. It was a black robe, exactly like the one I’d seen on the people in my nightmare and in the painting.

  “There’s something else,” he said. He passed me the robe and pulled out a book.

  I let the soft garment fall to my lap and took the small, black, leather-bound book from him. With a light touch, I caressed the double spiral embossed into the center of the cover and the intricate scroll detail etched into the leather surrounding it. Other than a line of runes down the spine, there was no writing. I took a deep breath and looked at Marcus, who was kneeling patiently in front of me, his eyes wide. I slipped a finger under the front cover. The book fell open with a cracking sound to the spine. I stared at the first page without surprise.

  “Claire Elizabeth Day,” I said low. “It was Claire’s book.” A strange feeling of déjà vu washed over me. Maybe it was seeing her entire name in writing for the second time. I sat back on my heels and brushed my fingers lightly over the dents in the writing. “The year 1912 is written in the corner.”

  “Exactly one hundred years ago,” Marcus said.

  I flipped through the silver-edged pages in silence.

  “Well, what’s it about?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure. A book of spells maybe.”

  His eyes narrowed. “How would you know what a book of spells looks like?”

  “I don’t know?” I shrugged. “The pages are filled with strange words and symbols. It just looks like a book of magic.”

  “So, Claire was a witch, too,” Marcus said with confidence.

  I looked at him regarding what he’s just said. “Do you think?”

  He shrugged. “Why not? Maggie might be.”

  “Maggie is,” I said adamantly. I was absolutely convinced now that Maggie was a witch—an evil witch.

  “Okay then, why couldn’t Claire be too? It is her book. And she was in our dreams, even if only symbolically. And what about the robe?”

  “Okay, let’s say she was; what does it have to do with us?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe Claire wanted us to find the book.”

  “Maybe.” I closed the cover and fondled it lovingly.

  “As I said on the bus, my uncle might know more. Maybe he’ll even know who Claire was. I’ll take you to see him Saturday morning.”

  A loud, boisterous voice, edged with sarcasm, interrupted our moment. “Decent or not, here I come.”

  We both snapped our heads up. Instinct kicked in. For some reason, I felt the need to hide the book from Evan. I shoved it into the front of my sweats and pulled the bottom of my hoodie down over it, laying my hand protectively across my stomach.

  Within seconds Evan was standing behind me. I knelt stiffly.

  “Can’t you two stay away from each other long enough to get your work done?” When we didn’t answer he looked at me and said, “Beth’s looking for you.” He let out a sharp laugh. “So, did I interrupt, or are you finished already?”

  Marcus stood. From the expression on his face, it looked as though it wouldn’t take much for him to beat the crap out of his brother.

  I stood too, and positioned myself in between them.

  “Don’t.” I mouthed the word to Marcus.

  “What do you want?” Marcus asked bluntly, over my shoulder.

  “Like I said, Beth’s looking for Brooke.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I swallowed my pride, anything to avoid an argument, or worse, a fight in the attic. “We’ll be down in a minute.”

  I felt the intensity of the anger that radiated from both brothers as I stood in the middle. They glared past me at each other, provoking the other to make the first move, until Evan lowered his gaze to the bundle on the floor.

  “What’s that?” He gestured toward the robe with his chin. When neither of us answered, he bent and picked it up. For a fleeting moment, his face held the expression of someone deep in thought.

  “What is it?” I asked staring at Evan’s puzzled expression.

  “Huh? Why are you staring at me?” He let the robe drop over the side of the trunk. “Well, if you two want to stay up here and play, then go ahead. I’m going back to work before I lose my job.” He turned and walked away.

  “That was weird,” Marcus said.

  “Really! I’m glad I’m not the only one who thought so. Something happened to him when he held the robe. He was in a trance, or something.”

  “He’ll never tell us what it was, though. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get out of here. I think I’ve had enough of the attic for one night. Marcus sounded more anxious than I’d ever heard him.

  “So, you’ll leave with me?” I was still worried that he would take me back to my ironing room and go back to work.

  “Of course. Don’t worry. I’m not leaving you alone in this place.”

  “What about your job?” I asked.

  “I’ll get another one.”

  I tried to smile. “Come on. Let’s put this stuff back.”

  I grabbed the robe and threw it into the trunk, not taking the time to fold it.

  “Where’s the book?” Marcus asked.

  I patted the spot where I’d shoved it in my pants.

  “Are you sure you want to take it? What if it’s cursed or something? You don’t want to mess with a witch’s property.”

  “Seriously?” I almost laughed. “You don’t believe in witches, remember? And besides, Claire’s dead.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because the book’s dated one hundred years ago. She has to be dead now. Anyway, I can’t explain it, but I feel like the book wanted us to find it.” As I said it, I patted Claire’s book again through the velour.

  “If you say so,” Marcus conceded, looking skeptical.

  He lifted the cover back onto the trunk. Instantly the warmth left us, and our breath clouds returned with the cold. But my body stayed healed.

  “I can’t get out of here soon enough,” I said and shivered.

  His hand found mine.

  We wasted no time in walking back to the light and down the attic stairs. I focused my eyes on our feet as we hurried down the grand staircase and past the lifeless painting, which an hour ago had been very much alive.

  I grabbed my windbreaker off the hook by the door with such a force, I heard it tear. Just as Marcus was about to open the front door, Beth came into the foyer.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Brooke? Where were you, I’ve been looking for you?”

  Crap. I looked at Marcus for help.

  “Brooke is sick. I’m taking her home.”

  “Brooke?”

  I faced Beth. “I’m sorry. I looked for you, but … I’m really sick. I have to go.” I had no other explanation. I just needed to get away from the Inn as fast as possible. I turned to leave.

  “Wait,” she blurted in her meek voice.

  I swallowed hard and turned back. Beth pulled an envelope from a pocket on her cardigan.

  “This is from
Maggie.” When I didn’t reach out to take it, Beth said, “It’s your pay from last week.”

  She gestured for me to take it so, reluctantly, I did. The truth was, I didn’t want anything from Maggie, not even her money.

  With great effort, I turned the corners of my mouth up and said, “Thanks.”

  “See you next time. Hope you feel better soon,” she called out after me as I crossed the threshold. Somehow, I knew she was sincere. But unbeknownst to her, I had no intentions of going back to the Inn—ever.

  The rain battered us as we ran to the truck. The thunder and lightning hadn’t let up either. As we pulled out of the driveway, I risked a quick glance back at the Inn. Flashes of lightening framed the huge building, emphasizing the raven statues, making the whole scene look as frighteningly creepy as it always had in my dreams when I was little.

  Suddenly, I felt scared for Evan. “Maybe we should make Evan leave too,” I said, staring out the window at the Inn.

  “And how do you suppose we do that?”

  “I don’t know, but he’s in that creepy place all alone.”

  Marcus chuckled darkly. “It’s nice of you to worry about him, but I don’t think there’s anything we could say that will make him leave just because we want him to.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. But still.”

  The truck lurched forward before coming to a stop halfway out of the gate. “Do you want to go back?” Marcus asked, a little too harshly.

  I shrugged. “No.”

  Marcus shifted gears with more force than necessary. “My brother can take care of himself.”

  “Okay, you made your point.”

  We rounded the corner, leaving the Inn behind us.

  “Unless … .” Marcus hesitated.

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless you’re unsure.”

  I looked at him questioningly. “Unsure?”

  He stared straight ahead.

  “I’m not unsure about anything.”

  He didn’t acknowledge that I’d said anything, so I faced the front and with a sick ache in my chest, I pondered over our recent conversation.

  Our little tiff was followed by a period of awkward silence. I glanced sideways at Marcus. He was leaning against the door of the truck, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the stick shift, staring straight ahead. Why had he gotten so gloomy when I mentioned Evan? We never even got to have that kiss, and now I didn’t think we ever would.