“Kissing is hardly fornication! You’re so dramatic!” I snarled at him.
“Well, I didn’t enjoy playing witness to it all the same,” he answered defiantly. “And, in the wake of whatever this malevolence is, you shouldn’t be bothering yourself with that man. You should be focused on finding a way to stop this entity!” He shook his head and then ran his hand over his forehead as if he were feeling ill. “Vous allez me conduire à la folie!” he grumbled. “You will drive me to madness!”
I decided to ignore the fact that I was, apparently, having a serious effect on his sanity. “I am focused on finding a way to stop it!” I screamed at him. “And not that it matters, but I guess you didn’t stick around for the aftermath of our kiss?”
He frowned at me. “I decided I had seen quite enough!”
“Well, if you’d stayed true to your nosy self, you would have stuck around to watch him pull away from me because he still isn’t over his grief of losing his wife!”
“Humph,” Drake said, jutting his chin out. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled again, looking suddenly exhausted.
“Drake?” I asked as worry began to gnaw at my insides. “Are you okay?”
He exhaled again and waved away my concern. “I am fine.”
But I didn’t believe him. Especially not after learning that this entity was making him weaker. I took a few steps closer to him but didn’t say anything as he watched me. Instead, I studied him, looking for signs that he wasn’t as “fine” as he’d just insinuated. I found the proof I was looking for in his eyes. They were just a bit duller, less lively than usual. “You’re not fine,” I said in a small voice as I took his hand and watched the surprise register in his eyes. I suddenly felt guilty—guilty that he was surprised when I acted kindly toward him. “I care about you, Drake,” I said softly as I squeezed his hand in mine. Even though he was just a spirit, he felt so whole, so real.
He didn’t break his gaze from mine. “I care about you, ma minette.”
I could tell he wanted to kiss me—the look was there in his eyes. And, who knew, maybe if Ryan weren’t in the picture, I would have succumbed to the idea of making out with a ghost. But as it was, I was still pretty heartbroken about Ryan, so kissing Drake was the last thought in my head. Instead, I dropped his hand and wrapped my arms around him, squeezing him tightly as I inhaled his clean but spicy scent. He hesitated only momentarily before clasping his arms around me.
“Vous ne comprenez pas à quel point je tiens à toi,” he whispered into my hair as he rubbed my back up and down. It wasn’t lost on me that he didn’t translate his sentence, so I figured it was something he preferred to keep to himself.
Just as I was about to respond, he suddenly released me and cocked his head to the side as if he’d heard something. He held his hand up as if to say I should be quiet. I stopped short and simply watched him as his eyebrows met in the middle and then his eyes narrowed as he took a few steps toward the door. “Il y a quelque chose ici. There is something here,” he whispered.
I felt my heart plummet to my feet. “What?” I whispered, but he held his hand up even higher and then faced me fully, his eyes dark orbs. Seconds later, his eyes widened with what looked like fear or maybe concern. He thrust himself toward me…
I sat up with a little scream wedged in my throat. I blinked a few times against the darkness in my bedroom and glanced around myself, trying to understand why I’d awakened and what Drake had been in the process of trying to tell me.
But I never had the chance to further ponder the subject because I was suddenly overwhelmed by feelings of nausea. I swallowed hard as I closed my eyes and tried to fend off what felt like a bout of advancing vomit. Just as suddenly as the feeling came on, though, it vanished, to be replaced with a multitude of tiny pinpricks all over my body. It took me a second or two to realize the stinging sensation was actually goose bumps covering every inch of me. I eyed my breath, which looked like wispy white clouds expelling from my mouth every time I exhaled. I was shivering—the temperature in the room had to have dropped thirty degrees in a matter of seconds and by now I knew well enough what that meant.
I wasn’t alone.
As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I attempted to sit up but found myself restrained. But it wasn’t like someone was holding me down—there were no touch points that might signal someone’s hands or someone’s body. Instead, it was more of the feeling that my brain’s messages weren’t reaching my extremities. That even though I wanted to stand up, the rest of my body wasn’t getting the memo.
I was paralyzed. That was the only condition I could liken it to. I couldn’t move—I had no control over my own body and what was more, my teeth were now chattering given how cold the room was. Fear began to spiral through me as I realized I was basically a sitting duck. I closed my eyes and tried to force the message to my body that I needed to get up and flee, but nothing.
Instead, it started to feel like the air was suddenly constricting in my throat. I turned my head to one side and then the next, hoping to release the tightness in my throat but to no avail. The pressure continued to build until it felt like invisible hands were wrapped around my throat and squeezing the air back out through my mouth.
Peyton, get up! I screamed at myself. Make your legs move, dammit!
But nothing. Instead, my heartbeat slammed through my body, echoing in my head as I fought to take a breath but failed. The pain in my throat had now doubled, feeling like an immense weight had descended on it and was slowly crushing my windpipe.
Feeling increasingly light-headed and dizzy, I closed my eyes. As soon as I did, I saw Drake. He was wrestling with something just above me—something that I couldn’t clearly delineate. It just appeared as a shadow, black air that was thick and billowing in some areas, sparse in others. But it was all concentrated just above me, as in a couple inches above me.
Drake appeared to be consumed by a whitish light that kept flickering brighter and then would fade away again as he struggled with the black cloud. Perspiration dotted his hairline, and with the way he was panting, it was pretty clear he was exhausted. He didn’t look at me once, just continued to battle whatever was on top of me, the light surrounding him starting to grow dimmer. But the shadow was also beginning to dissipate, and the wrenching pain around my throat began to let up.
I opened my eyes at the exact moment that I sucked in a breath and sat bolt upright in my bed. I immediately brought my hands to my throat in an attempt to ward off the intense burning sensation that plagued me, becoming an all-out incendiary whenever I swallowed.
Fear continued to beat a wild path through me, and the only thought in my mind was that I needed to get out of my bed and, more so, my room. I didn’t understand what had just happened to me but of one thing I was certain: The malevolent energy in the house had attacked me. The presence was growing stronger and bolder. Now this situation had become personal.
I pushed the duvet cover off and started to stand up, when I heard something. I stood stock-still and craned my neck in the direction of the noise—something that sounded like chipping. With my heartbeat ricocheting through me, I tiptoed to the doorway and poked my head out, noticing that the sound seemed to be coming from the end of the hallway, where the hallway met the kitchen. I didn’t know what compelled me to follow it, but I did. I tiptoed down the dark hallway and paused once I hit the kitchen.
The sound was definitely emanating from the rear of the kitchen, where the back door led out into the small garden. I took a few steps forward and then noticed the sound dissipated completely until I was left listening to my own shallow breathing. My throat still burned like a son of a bitch but I couldn’t even say I was really all that aware of it. Instead, I was wholly focused on what I should do—whether I should stay where I was and continue to listen for…I didn’t even know what. Or was it better to open the door and find out what was responsible for making the sound in the first place? Maybe it was a stray animal or a raccoon or something
trying to make its way inside.
The more I considered it, the more plausible that reasoning seemed to be. I took another few painstaking steps toward the door and then paused, listening for the sound again. But there was nothing. It was so dark, I could only see the gleam of the reflection of the moonlight on the brass doorknob. I reached for it, and once I felt the cold metal in my palm, I took a deep and painful breath. I turned the knob and pulled, but the door wouldn’t budge. That was when I realized it was locked. Taking another deep breath, I unlocked it. It felt like eons passed as I watched my hand turn the knob and open the door. My gaze shifted from the darkness of the interior of my house to the darkness of the exterior. I dropped my gaze to the concrete steps just outside the door and felt my breath catch in my throat.
Lying on the top step was a chisel. In the area surrounding the chisel were myriad wood shavings, all of various sizes. But the shavings didn’t arrest my complete attention. That was reserved for the ax, which lay innocently on the second step.
I have to get out of the house. That was my first thought. Even though I was barefoot and wearing pajamas, I tore down the stairs, jumping over the chisel and the ax. With only thoughts about escaping, I ran down the narrow, overgrown cobble path that led to the decrepit gate in my backyard. All I could think about was reaching Ryan. I knew if I could get to Ryan, I’d be safe.
The latch on the gate was broken, but it didn’t discourage me—I was running on pure adrenaline and, what was more, I was very determined. I wrestled with the ancient latch until it gave way, then I thrust the gate away from me and felt a sharp, shooting pain in my palm. Glancing down only momentarily, I noticed blood was already filling my palm where a splinter of wood impaled it.
“Shit!” I cursed and immediately regretted it because my throat suddenly started to burn even worse than it had been.
Even though I hoped whoever or whatever had left the ax on my doorstep was now long gone, I couldn’t be sure he wasn’t hanging out in the nearby bushes, waiting for me…stalking me? Suddenly angry that I didn’t plan my escape route better, I wiped my bloody palm against my pajama T-shirt and figured there was only one option left—escaping through the backyard, which wound around the house and led out onto the street. I ran as quickly as I could, a difficult task considering I was barefoot and my backyard was a minefield of rocks, pinecones, pine needles, overgrown tree roots, and broken cobbles outlining what was once a path.
I cried out when I stubbed my big toe against the curb in front of my house, but seeing the asphalt of the road renewed me with hope. I took a right and ran down the street as quickly as my legs could carry me, ignoring the throbbing anguish in my toe. I strained to look for Ryan’s white truck, which was always parked outside of his house.
What if he isn’t home? I asked myself but forced the thought out of my mind. It was incredibly early in the morning—maybe two or three a.m. He had to be home.
I recognized his white truck a few seconds later and tore up his driveway with a renewed sense of purpose. I was almost there! The moonlight lit my way, and as soon as I felt the cold, wet grass of Ryan’s perfectly manicured front lawn, I wanted to sing. Instead, I took the steps to his front double doors two at a time. Trying to catch my breath, I pounded on one of the doors before noticing the doorbell off to the side. I slammed my index finger into the doorbell and secretly prayed that Ryan wouldn’t take long to answer the door. Almost immediately, the sound of barking dogs came from inside as well as the sound of canine nails tapping against the floor as Ryan’s two Saint Bernards scrambled to see who was visiting.
I wasn’t sure why, but hearing the dogs barking made me suddenly feel like a stranger who had no business standing on Ryan’s oversize porch, demanding to see him. Even though Ryan and I were friends, I’d actually never been to his home before—usually passing by while en route to some other destination. In any other instance, I no doubt would have inspected Ryan’s house more carefully, trying to decide what his style and tastes were. But since this wasn’t a social call, I couldn’t take stock of my surroundings. Instead, I just shivered in the cold night air, clad only in my skimpy charcoal-gray pajama shorts and a coordinating white cotton T-shirt.
The dogs continued to bark, but as far as I could tell they were the only creatures stirring inside his house. I knocked again, this time with a bit more desperation. Then I heard the sound of bare feet shuffling across the floor. One thing I was now sure of was that Ryan had hardwood floors because they were way beyond noisy.
Once I heard his footsteps reach the door, they fell silent. There wasn’t a peephole in either front door, so he peered at me through one of the beveled glass sidelights on either side of the immense entry doors. He immediately opened the door once he recognized me.
“Pey—” he started as he turned on the light in the entry and blinked a few times, obviously trying to adjust his eyes to the sudden brightness. I was so overwhelmed with happiness and relief, I rushed him before he could finish saying my name. In response, he threw one arm around me while using the other to hold both of his enormous dogs back so they wouldn’t attack me. “No!” he yelled as the larger of the two dogs persisted in growling and barking at me. “It’s okay, Stella, go to bed!”
But Stella didn’t look completely convinced that everything was okay. She glared at me with rather large, droopy eyes and continued to bare her impressive set of very sharp teeth. “Go to your bed!” Ryan ordered again, closing the front door behind us. This time, both of the dogs obeyed and disappeared down the hallway.
Once the dogs were no longer a concern, Ryan turned toward me and opened his arms, apparently seeing how badly I needed a Ryan Kelly hug more than anything else at the moment. Just the sight of him completely overwhelmed me with feelings of relief and safety. Before I knew it, tears rolled down my cheeks as I lost control of myself and began to sob. I threw myself against him and he wrapped his big arms around me, nestling me into him as he petted my hair and kissed the top of my head.
“What’s wrong?” he asked in a soft voice. I couldn’t answer because I was crying uncontrollably. “Peyton, tell me what’s wrong,” he repeated, his tone of voice more serious. “Did someone hurt you?” He pushed me away from him and appeared to inspect my bloodied T-shirt, as if seeking clues as to what happened.
I gulped, feeling the sting in my throat all over again as I forced myself to look up at him. I tried to catch my breath at the same time that I attempted to hold off my unending tears.
“Just take a breath,” Ryan consoled me. “Take your time.”
I nodded and closed my eyes, breathing in deeply as I tried to regain control of myself. When the tears finally subsided, I opened my eyes and faced him. “Something attacked me in my bed…and…and then s-someone left an…an ax outside my back door,” I managed at last, wiping my runny nose against my other arm.
Ryan shook his head as if he wasn’t following. “Something attacked you?”
I nodded and could feel my eyes going wide at the memory. “It was the entity in my house, Ryan, I know it was.”
“A spirit attacked you?” he repeated, frowning at me.
“I know it sounds crazy!” I said as my voice started to shake. “But I was asleep and then I suddenly couldn’t breathe. It was like something was choking me!” I took a deep breath, feeling the burn in my throat. “I couldn’t move, Ryan; it was like I was paralyzed. And it was deathly cold in the room.”
Ryan just nodded but his lips were tight and I couldn’t read his expression. “And you’re sure there wasn’t anyone in the room with you? No one could have broken in?”
I immediately shook my head. “I was by myself.”
He took a deep breath and cocked his head to the side. I could see his battle over whether or not to accept my explanation as the truth raging behind his eyes. I knew it sounded completely absurd but it was the truth.
“And the ax?” he prodded in a soft voice.
I shook my head. “I don’t know how it
got there but it was there…right on my back stairs as soon as I opened the door.”
He didn’t respond right away and seemed to be absorbing the information, trying to make sense of it all. “I don’t understand, Peyton,” he said at last, his voice and his eyes revealing his concern and his confusion. “I don’t understand how a spirit could attack you, but leavin’ that question aside for the moment, why would someone leave an ax outside your door?”
“As a warning, I think,” I said. I shook my head again because I wasn’t convinced that was the reason why.
“Tell me what happened from the very beginnin’,” Ryan continued as he draped his arm around me and shuffled me into the living room. “You’re freezin’,” he added before squeezing me a little more tightly.
Leaning into him, I allowed him to lead me to a plush, oversize brown leather couch. He sat me down and reached for a brown-and-blue blanket, which he draped over my shoulders after he sat beside me. Then he pulled me into the warmth of his arms and held me while I tried to get my thoughts together.
“Peyton, tell me what happened,” he repeated.
I exhaled and then told him exactly what had happened, minus the part about Drake because I wasn’t sure if I was even coherent at that point. I had to imagine that no oxygen to my brain for at least a few seconds could have caused me to hallucinate. Instead, I focused on the part about the ax because I figured that was the most concrete. “I heard a sound coming from the back door in the kitchen,” I started. “It was like this weird scratching sound, so I got up to find out what it was.” Just remembering the instance sent another wave of fear ricocheting through me. “I thought it was an animal or something…maybe a raccoon trying to get in.”
“Okay,” he said, prompting me to get to the point.
“So when I opened the back door, I saw the ax.”
“It wasn’t there before?” Ryan asked. He further explained himself once he saw the befuddled expression on my face. “I mean, it wasn’t an ax that you kept around the house for choppin’ firewood or somethin’?”