“You need medication, dude. Seriously.” My words were meant for the stranger, even though I knew he couldn’t hear them.
The blocks were small—only four or five houses long—and there was only about a driveway’s width between each house. As I passed the sixth house down, midway into the next block, a shout reverberated through the walls and windows. Someone was arguing. Not just arguing, but really fighting it out, in that way only family can. And try as I might not to eavesdrop, I found my footsteps slowing until I came to a stop on the sidewalk, wondering who else needed to have their prescription filled tonight.
“No good will come of fooling with the devil’s instruments! Now hand them to me!”
I instantly recognized that shrill voice. I doubted there could be two voices in this town that sounded like that one. It could only be Martha. Still acting crazy, even though her audience was much smaller now than it had been in the Lakehouse Grill.
“Mom. No.” The moment I realized that it was Cara speaking, my insides flexed. She sounded more than a little annoyed with her mother. What was crazy old Martha demanding that she hand over, anyway? The “devil’s instruments”? Great. The girl I was attracted to was probably sacrificing goats or something.
“Where do you think you’re going this late? It’s the witching hour! It’s not safe, Cara!”
The witching hour? Who said stuff like that?
Suddenly, the front door to the house flung open and Cara burst outside, throwing her hands in the air in absolute frustration. “Just leave me alone!”
I froze. She hadn’t seen me yet, but when she did, she’d know I’d been eavesdropping. It wasn’t like there was anything else I could have been doing outside their house in the middle of the night.
Cara lifted her head and I was caught for sure. Only—she didn’t look all that surprised to see a strange boy standing there in the dark. I was starting to think that’s just what people did around here. I was also starting to think that Cara was pissed, and I hoped it wasn’t directed at me. She jabbed a thumb back at her house as she descended the steps. “So you heard all that, I suppose?”
“Just the part where she tried to save your soul and you basically told her to pop some pills.” I smiled at her, hoping she’d laugh, hoping she’d get my weirdness and be okay with it. Then I realized how mean what I’d said might have sounded and my smile slipped. I shook my head in apology. “Sorry. I shouldn’t joke about it. Not my business.”
The corner of her mouth lifted in a small smile. She stepped onto the sidewalk next to me, and the streetlight glinted off the locket around her neck, held tight to her throat by a black satin ribbon. The locket was a silver heart, kept closed by what looked like wings. I tried to keep my gaze at eye level. Cara was about a foot shorter than me. So cute and petite that I easily could have picked her up and carried her around. I didn’t, of course, because how creepy would that have been?
“It’s okay. And yeah, you got the gist of it. How sad is it that my whole existence can be summed up by a stranger who overheard one argument with my mother?”
Stranger. For a moment, I’d completely forgotten about the stalker outside my window. But it didn’t matter. This was a far better way to spend my time.
Stress was coming off Cara in waves, like heat. This wasn’t exactly how I’d pictured meeting her, and I felt a little guilty about how excited I was when she was standing here hurting.
“I’m Stephen. You’re Cara, right? I heard your mom say it.” I gestured to the house with a nod and then smiled at Cara once again. “So now we’re not strangers.”
“Well, I’m definitely stranger than you. Bet on it.” Her small smile spread into a full-on grin, lighting up her whole face. She looked so much prettier when she smiled. She tilted her head at me curiously. “You’re new around here. How new?”
“New enough. My dad grew up here. He and I moved into my grandmother’s house a block that way yesterday. Last night, really. Late.” I had no idea why I kept adding details to my reply. It wasn’t like she was quizzing me or anything. But the stupid just kept rolling out of my mouth like a red carpet. Inside, I was kicking myself.
“Sounds about right. Everybody who leaves comes back in the end. What are your thoughts on Spencer so far?”
For a moment, she seemed slightly guarded, waiting for my response. I couldn’t tell if she wanted me to say I hated it or I liked it. I decided to be honest. They say the truth will set you free.
And nothing good had ever come my way on the heels of a lie.
“From what I’ve seen so far, it kind of sucks.” She winced and I shrugged. Maybe that wasn’t the right answer. But if she was sacrificing goats in her free time, did I really care about her opinion of me so much? “No offense.”
She shrugged, too, and then nodded. If anything, she looked a little relieved to hear me say it. “None taken. I’m not the mayor. Hell, Spencer isn’t even big enough to have a mayor. Just some stupid council. Where are you from, anyway? And how did you get stuck here?”
“I’m from Denver. And how I got stuck here is a long story, ending with my dad losing his job and my mom . . . well, staying behind, at least for now.” I wasn’t sure why I was telling her all this, especially outside her house in the dark, when we’d only just met. I just knew that I wanted to tell her whatever she wanted to hear about me. About anything.
She furrowed her brow sympathetically, and as my attention dropped briefly to her lips, I wondered where her dad was. I didn’t dare ask. It seemed pushy to me, and I didn’t want to push her. I wanted to kiss her. But only once we’d figured out that whole goat-sacrifice thing. “Can I tell your future?” she said.
“Well, I can, but only through the next school year. It involves too many chores, not having my own car, and a C average, at best.”
She flashed me a look that said she acknowledged what a smart-ass I could be, then held up a stack of tarot cards. The edges of the cards were worn, softened with age and use. She said, “I meant with these.”
I slipped my thumbs into my front jeans pockets and nodded, keeping a straight face. “Oh cool, the devil’s instruments.”
With a groan, she led me up onto the porch, where she knelt and then arranged her legs in a crisscross position. When I was in the second grade, my teacher, Mrs. Davis, told us this way of sitting was called crisscross applesauce. Mrs. Davis was obviously stupid.
The wooden planks that made up the porch were old to the point of dilapidation. It looked like they’d been painted a light-blue color once, but most of that had worn or peeled away with time and neglect. I could still see bits of the color on the edges of the porch, a hint at what a nice home this might have been, once upon a time.
I sat on my knees facing Cara and she handed me the deck. The cards were warm in my hands. Cara’s warmth. Or maybe the fires of hell. I’d have to check with Martha to be certain. “Shuffle these and then cut them as much as you feel like.”
I did as instructed, then handed the deck back to her. Our fingers touched briefly, and I could have sworn I felt an electrical charge spark between us. But maybe that was just static. She took three cards from the top of the deck and laid them out side by side in front of her. “These three cards, from left to right, represent your past, your present, and your future. Got it?”
“Got it.” I examined the cards. One looked like the grim reaper. The next looked like some kind of hairy demon. And the third looked like a mass suicide. I wasn’t exactly filled with hope. “I’ll be honest. Things look bleak.”
Cara shook her head, a light smile dancing on her lips. “Things aren’t always as they seem.”
Our eyes met, and this time, for a too-brief moment, something definitely passed between us. I wasn’t sure what it was, just that it was.
After our gaze broke, Cara went back to the cards. “So, in your past you have the Death card. I know it seems freaky, but that’s actually a good position for that card. It means you’ve gone through a wrenching change th
at involved loss and a helpless inability to do anything about it. Probably your move to Spencer, or maybe your mom staying behind.”
“Does it mention which box my alarm clock is in? Because I’ve been looking for it.” I had to joke, because the whole thing with my mom and the move was just a bit too fresh for me to face.
“Come on, be serious.” She shoved me playfully before tapping the card in the center. As she moved, I was reminded of her fingers scratching her thigh and had to bite the inside of my cheek just so I could focus on the task at hand. “In your present, you have the Devil.”
I resisted the urge to ask her how much she knew about goat sacrifices.
“It’s basically your wake-up call. You’re hooked into something and may not even realize it. It could be the mindset of being a victim, or something like that. Your thought processes and actions are currently holding you back. The Devil card here says that a terrible connection in your life right now is chaining you down from being who you truly are.”
Who I truly am. Not a gamer. Not a book nerd. Not a history geek. Did this mean the devil was going to help me find out who I was? Looking at the cards and their weird cartoonish drawings, I doubted it.
“What’s that? People are . . .” I pointed to the last card. It featured a building on fire. People were diving from the windows in a mad panic, screaming on their way down. Was that my future? I looked at Cara, hoping she’d shrug it off and tell me it was nothing. After all, she’d just said that things aren’t always as they seem. “They don’t look happy.”
Neither did Cara. She bit her bottom lip and worry creased her forehead. “This card is the Tower. The Tower card represents sudden change. To be honest, it’s not the best card in the world to have in the future position. Having it here means that the decimation of some structure in your world will take place. It’s also a pretty immediate thing. Whatever destruction is headed your way is headed your way now. Not in a year or two.”
I stared at the card a moment longer before sighing. “Thanks. That’s just great. I feel better about my life already.”
“No problem.” She ran her fingers lightly over the cards, keeping her eyes off me the entire time. I wondered why, but didn’t want to ask. Mostly because she just might answer me.
Suddenly, someone behind me spoke. His voice was practically dripping with sarcasm. “Tell me that the Lovers didn’t come up.”
The look on Cara’s face went from concerned to surprised to annoyed in about two heartbeats. She waved a hand at whoever was standing behind me and said, “Stephen, this is my twin brother, Devon.”
As I turned to look at Cara’s twin, I said a simple “Hey.”
But the word fell flat. My heart beat solidly inside my chest. Because the boy I was looking at was the guy who’d been staring at my house less than an hour before.
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About the Author
Photo by Paul Brewer
HEATHER BREWER grew up on a diet of The Twilight Zone and Stephen King. She is the author of the Chronicles of Vladimir Tod series, which has sold more than 1.5 million copies around the world, as well as the Slayer Chronicles and the Legacy of Tril. Heather doesn’t believe in happy endings . . . unless they involve blood. She lives in Missouri with her husband and two children. You can visit Heather online at www.heatherbrewer.com.
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Copyright
THE GHOST OF BEN HARGROVE. Copyright © 2014 by Heather Brewer. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © August 2014 ISBN 9780062321268
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Heather Brewer, The Ghost of Ben Hargrove
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