The Second Horror

  Brandt relaxed. “I’m sorry, Meg,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”

  Meg studied him curiously. “Hey—what happened to your arm?”

  “Basketball practice,” Brandt muttered. “I dislocated my shoulder.”

  Meg tossed back her auburn hair. “Jon didn’t have anything to do with it—did he?” she asked suspiciously.

  “No. Why?”

  “I wanted to warn you about him,” Meg said, her expression solemn. They started walking.

  “What do you mean?” Brandt asked.

  “Jon’s a really intense guy,” Meg warned. She plucked a twig from a tree as she walked. “You’ll be sorry if you get on his bad side. He’s got a terrible temper.”

  “I can handle that,” Brandt said quietly.

  “I’m serious, Brandt. He’s real jealous when it comes to Jinny.”

  “Jinny and I are only lab partners,” Brandt insisted.

  “I know,” Meg said. “But you don’t know Jon. I mean, sometimes he goes ballistic. He got suspended from school last year for beating up a kid in Waynesbridge. The kid spent two weeks in the hospital.”

  She stopped at the corner. “Here’s where I turn,” she announced. A strand of auburn hair fell into her eyes. She made no move to brush it away.

  “Thanks for the warning,” Brandt told her. “But I think I can handle Jon.”

  Meg didn’t reply. Instead, she completely startled Brandt by rising up on her toes and kissing him.

  Quickly getting over his surprise, Brandt found himself kissing her back. She’s really awesome, he told himself.

  She stepped back and smiled at him. “I know you’ve got a study date with Jinny on Saturday,” she said. “But why don’t you come over to my house on Sunday? Not to study. We’ll just—hang out.”

  “Sounds great,” Brandt said. “See you then.”

  “See you.” She flashed him another smile, shifted her backpack, and hurried away.

  A few minutes later, still thinking about Meg, Brandt walked into his front yard. Abbie sat perched on a sagging front step, waiting for him. She was wearing her school uniform: a gray plaid skirt, white blouse, and blue sweater. She smiled and waved when she saw him.

  Oh, wow! Brandt thought. As soon as he saw Abbie, he remembered—he had made a study date with her for Saturday. But now he had invited Jinny for Saturday afternoon too.

  “How’s it going, Brandt?” Abbie asked, climbing to her feet. “Hey—what happened to your arm?” Her blue eyes narrowed in concern.

  “Just sprained it or something,” Brandt replied, thinking about Saturday. “Uh—you know, Saturday—” he started.

  “Would you like me to bring something? Some popcorn, maybe?” Abbie suggested. She gave him an eager smile.

  “No, it’s not that,” Brandt said. “I—uh—got hung up Saturday. Some stuff I’ve got to do. Can we make it another day?”

  Abbie’s happy expression crumpled into disappointment. But she replied brightly, “Sure. Another day. No problem. Really.”

  She stood up quickly and started across the front lawn. “Catch you later,” she called behind her.

  “Right.” Brandt watched her disappear around the hedges.

  She’ll get over it, he told himself.

  He had to smile. Girls were throwing themselves at him right and left!

  Maybe I’m going to like it here after all, he thought.

  He turned and made his way into the house. “Mom—guess what?” he called. “You won’t believe what a klutz I am! I fell down the stairs at school today!”

  • • •

  The doorbell rang at exactly two o’clock on Saturday afternoon. Brandt was sitting in the den, watching college football on TV.

  He waited a minute until the first half of the game ended. Then he switched off the TV and went to answer the door.

  His shoulder had nearly healed and he no longer needed the sling. But the coach refused to let him play basketball anymore.

  I can live without basketball, Brandt thought. I’ve got plenty of other activities to keep me busy. Mainly, girls!

  The doorbell rang again. Brandt fixed his smile, then pulled open the door.

  Jinny gazed at him, fretfully chewing her bottom lip. She wore a maroon and white Shadyside High sweatshirt over black jeans. “This is your house?” she asked, raising her eyes to the peeling paint on the porch.

  “Yeah,” Brandt replied. “Pretty shabby, huh? We’re fixing it up.”

  He stepped aside and let her in. Then he closed the door behind her. “Let me give you the grand tour. This is the dining room—”

  He showed her the dark dining room, with its low, stained ceiling. In one corner the faded wallpaper was peeling off.

  He pointed through a doorway and said, “There’s the kitchen.”

  Jinny peered into the kitchen, which was more cheerful. “Where are your parents?” she asked.

  “They went to a faculty tea in Waynesbridge,” Brandt told her. “My dad teaches at the community college.”

  “Cool,” Jinny said.

  He led Jinny across the hall. “This is the living room.”

  The couch, a coffee table, and two chairs were surrounded by several half-unpacked cartons. Jinny walked over to the wall with Mr. McCloy’s collection of weapons and armor.

  “What is all this stuff?” she asked, lightly touching one of the darts.

  “My father is an expert on ancient rituals,” Brandt explained. “These are all things used in tribal warfare.”

  He pointed to a spear. “This is a really old spear that people used on the island in the Pacific where we lived,” he said. “And these darts”—he touched the end of a brightly painted feathered dart—“are really deadly. They were used with a blowgun. The people on the island would blow them into the necks of their enemies. Their aim was so good, they always hit the jugular.”

  He paused, then urged, “Feel how sharp it is.”

  Jinny gingerly touched the point of the dart. “Ouch,” she said, drawing back.

  “That suit of armor,” Brandt continued, “was also worn by the island warriors.”

  “Probably to protect themselves from the darts,” Jinny joked.

  Brandt watched as Jinny examined the armor. It was very heavy, made of iron, but securely fastened to the wall. The craftsman who made it had painted suns, moons, pyramids, and other symbols on the chestplate.

  “I guess we’d better get started on our project,” Jinny said, still eyeing the wall of weapons.

  “Let’s go up to my room,” Brandt suggested. “I’ve got all my books and things up there.”

  They climbed the stairs to Brandt’s room. Jinny sat at Brandt’s desk. Brandt leaned across the desk to get a notebook.

  Jinny tugged on the leather pouch he wore around his neck. “What’s this?” she asked. “Some kind of weird change purse?”

  Brandt tugged the pouch from her fingers. “It’s a good-luck charm,” he told her. “It saved my life once.”

  “How?”

  Brandt hesitated. Why had he told her that? He really didn’t feel like explaining it to her. He didn’t like to talk about it.

  “Never mind,” he said, flashing her a smile. “You’ll think I’m superstitious if I tell you.”

  “Whatever.” Jinny shrugged.

  Brandt picked up the chemistry textbook. “Have you read through the list of experiments?” he asked.

  Jinny nodded. “Which one do you want to do?”

  “I haven’t read the list yet,” Brandt admitted, scanning the page.

  “I’m kind of thirsty,” Jinny said. “Do you mind if I go downstairs and get something to drink while you read the list?”

  “No, go ahead,” Brandt replied. “There’s Coke and some other soda in the fridge.”

  “Do you want anything?” Jinny asked.

  “No, thanks.” He heard Jinny’s footsteps as she descended the stairs.

  She’s really awesome, he thought, his eyes bl
urring over the words in his chemistry book.

  Try to keep your mind on your book for five minutes, he scolded himself. She’ll be annoyed if she comes back and you haven’t even read the stupid list of experiments!

  He was reading down the list when he heard her scream.

  The book fell out of his hands.

  “Jinny?”

  Another shrill scream.

  He raced out of the room, plunged down the stairs. Into the kitchen.

  So much blood.

  So much bright red blood.

  Chapter 13

  Brandt’s sneakers crunched over shards of broken glass as he crossed the room to Jinny.

  “Make it stop!” she shrieked, her eyes wide with fear. “Make it stop—please!”

  She raised both arms. Her hands were drenched with blood. The blood poured from her wrists, over her sweatshirt and jeans.

  Brandt grabbed a dish towel off the counter and struggled to wrap it around one of Jinny’s wrists.

  “Make it stop! Make it stop!” she cried.

  “We have to wrap both arms,” he said, his eyes searching frantically for another towel.

  “Make it stop! Make it stop!” Her eyes rolled wildly in her head. Somehow she had smeared blood over her face.

  She’s in shock, Brandt realized.

  What on earth happened?

  He jerked some paper towels off the roll and began wrapping them around the other wrist.

  “Make it stop! Please—make it stop!” Her cries grew even shriller, more terrified.

  As Brandt wrapped the towels tightly around Jinny’s arms, his parents burst into the kitchen through the back door. With all the excitement, Brandt hadn’t heard their car pull into the driveway.

  “Oh, my!” Mrs. McCloy cried in alarm, raising her hands to her face. “What—”

  She dropped her purse on the kitchen table and hurried to help Jinny. “Brandt! What’s happened?”

  “How did she cut herself?” Brandt’s dad demanded.

  “Make it stop! Make it stop!” Jinny shrieked.

  Mrs. McCloy grabbed more paper towels and wrapped them tightly around Jinny’s left arm.

  “I’ll get bandages.” Mr. McCloy turned to hurry to the medicine chest.

  “I—I don’t know how it happened,” Brandt stammered. Gazing down, he saw that his shirt and jeans were smeared with blood.

  “The glass—it flew out of my hand!” Jinny screamed, her eyes finally starting to focus again. “It shattered in midair. I—I—I—”

  Mrs. McCloy placed a comforting hand on Jinny’s shoulder. “I think we’re stopping the bleeding.” She pulled back the paper towel and examined the wrist. “The cut isn’t really that deep. You may not even need stitches.”

  “But the glass just flew!” Jinny cried, not seeming to hear Brandt’s mother. “Like somebody pulled it away. And then it shattered. For no reason!”

  Brandt gasped. He suddenly remembered Ezra. The spear had felt as if it were being pulled from Brandt’s hand. And then it pierced the cat’s body.

  And now, the glass . . .

  “Let’s get you to the emergency room,” Mrs. McCloy was saying, her arm still around Jinny’s shoulders. “The bleeding has almost stopped. But we should have a doctor take a look at those cuts.”

  “It just shattered,” Jinny repeated, still dazed. “It just shattered in midair.”

  • • •

  The doctor at Shadyside Hospital bandaged Jinny’s wrists. She didn’t need stitches. She was feeling a little better by the time Brandt and his parents dropped her off at her house.

  Brandt walked her up to the front door. “Great study date,” she muttered, staring down at her bandages.

  “Sorry,” Brandt replied quietly.

  “Next time, we’ll study at my house,” she said. She hurried inside.

  Brandt’s parents were waiting in the car. He told them he felt like walking home. “I really need to get some air.”

  “But you’re covered in blood,” Mrs. McCloy protested.

  “It’s a ten-minute walk,” Brandt insisted. “I’ll change as soon as I get home.”

  He watched them back down Jinny’s drive and pull away. Then, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, he began walking slowly toward home.

  The late afternoon sky was low and gray. The air carried a damp chill.

  He had turned the corner onto Fear Street, when out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw something move along a low hedge. He spun around.

  No one there.

  Brandt picked up his pace a little. The streetlights flickered on, casting shadows on the road.

  Brandt suddenly felt sure that someone was following him. He stopped and listened.

  Silence.

  He turned back again.

  A shadowy figure moved silently toward him.

  Brandt shuddered. “No!” he cried. “Leave me alone!” He began to run.

  The shadowy figure floated closer, moving silently, effortlessly, as if pushed forward on the wind.

  Fear tightened Brandt’s throat. “Go away!” he managed to choke out.

  But the dark figure, all gray on shades of gray, slipped closer.

  Closer.

  Brandt forced his legs to run faster. He could see his house.

  He felt a cold wind on his back. The icy touch of the shadowy stranger.

  “No!” Brandt screamed shrilly. Using all his strength, he pulled away.

  But the icy wind swept up his back.

  His sneakers pounded on the sidewalk. He turned sharply. Into the tall grass of his front yard.

  I’ll be safe if I get to the house, he thought.

  Safe from this cold, shadowy stranger.

  Safe . . .

  He tripped over a tree root. Stumbled to the ground.

  Sprawled facedown in the tall, damp grass.

  And waited in terror for the cold shadow to sweep over him.

  Chapter 14

  “Hey—Brandt?”

  Brandt raised his head when he heard the voice.

  “Brandt—are you okay?”

  Abbie.

  He spun around, his eyes searching the grass.

  The shadow had vanished.

  Who was it? What was it? He didn’t have time to think about it. Abbie was making her way toward him over the tall grass, her expression showing her concern.

  Embarrassed, Brandt climbed to his feet and brushed the dirt from his jeans. “I’m okay,” he assured her. “I was running, and . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “And you fell on your face?” She burst out laughing.

  “Not funny,” he muttered.

  She covered her mouth and forced herself to stop. “Sorry. I saw you and—”

  “Want to come in and talk for a while?” Brandt suggested.

  Abbie glanced warily at the dark house. “To be honest, your house scares me a little.”

  “Let’s just sit on the porch,” he suggested.

  She nodded and started to follow him. But she suddenly stopped and her expression changed. “What’s that?” She pointed to the dark bloodstains on his sweater and jeans. “Is that mud?”

  “Yeah. I guess,” Brandt replied. He didn’t feel like telling her the truth. “I’m such a klutz today.”

  “I have days like that,” Abbie replied, eyeing him intently.

  They settled on the porch steps. “Abbie,” Brandt began thoughtfully, “what else do you know about this house? I mean, what else went on here before I moved in?”

  “Hey, I’m not a snoopy neighbor,” Abbie insisted. “I really don’t know that much.”

  “Come on,” Brandt coaxed. “You must have heard something—other weird stories. Or maybe you saw something strange going on.”

  Abbie shook her head. “I can’t think of anything.”

  “What about the girl who died? Do you have any idea how it happened?”

  Abbie wrinkled her nose. “Why are you asking me all these questions?”

&nb
sp; Brandt realized that his questions were frightening Abbie—and that she couldn’t help him. He suddenly wanted to be somewhere safe and warm. And he didn’t want to be alone.

  “Abbie,” he began, trying to be casual about it. “Are you busy tonight? Maybe we could go see a movie.”

  “I wish I could,” Abbie said. “But I can’t go tonight. What about tomorrow afternoon?”

  Brandt began to say yes, but he stopped himself. He remembered that he made a date with Meg.

  “Tomorrow’s no good. You sure you can’t go out tonight?” he persisted. “We could see a comedy, a nice, cheerful movie where nobody dies or gets mutilated or anything.”

  Abbie laughed. “Sorry,” she told him. “Another night.”

  “We just can’t seem to get it together, can we?” Brandt complained.

  “Hey, no problem,” Abbie assured him. “We will. After all, we’re neighbors.” She stood up. “It’s getting chilly. And dark. I’d better get home. See you later.”

  “See you.”

  As soon as Brandt opened the front door, his father called from the kitchen, “Is that you, Brandt?”

  “Yes,” Brandt replied.

  “Get in here. Your mother and I want to talk to you.”

  Brandt ambled into the kitchen, taking his time. He wasn’t looking forward to whatever his father had to say. He could tell by the tone of his voice that his father was unhappy about something.

  Mrs. McCloy stood at the stove, stirring soup in a large pot. Mr. McCloy was seated at the counter, chopping carrots for a salad.

  The blood had all been washed up, Brandt saw happily.

  When Brandt entered, Mr. McCloy set down his knife and raised his eyes to him. “Jinny seems like a nice girl,” he said. “But your mother and I were a little surprised to find her here.”

  “We were working on our chemistry project. We’re lab partners,” Brandt answered curtly.

  “Why didn’t you tell us you’d invited her over, Brandt?” his mother asked, turning to face him. “Did you wait till we left and then invite her over?”

  “No way,” Brandt insisted impatiently. “I didn’t know I had to tell you every little thing,” Brandt answered. “I’m allowed to invite friends over—aren’t I?”

  His mother frowned, hurt. She turned back to the stove.

  “We never mind if you have friends over,” Mr. McCloy said. He changed his tone, trying to sound lighter, less upset. “It’s just—well, we met your friend Abbie the other day, and then today it’s Jinny. We don’t think you should overdo it, that’s all.”