The Second Evil

  They all worked on shoulder mounts and dismounts for a few minutes; then Corky guided them into position for the pyramid.

  I wish Bobbi were here, she found herself thinking. She was the real expert at getting this going.

  But then she pushed Bobbi from her mind, shaking her head hard as if shaking her thoughts away. “Ready?” she called. “Let’s try it now. Take it slowly. Don’t worry about the timing.”

  “Heather, bend your knees,” Kimmy instructed as Megan and Ronnie performed their shoulder mounts to form the middle tier.

  Before she realized it, it was Corky’s turn to move.

  Before she realized it, she was climbing into position. Off the floor. Climbing so high.

  And even with all of her concentration, the thoughts came rushing back. The fears. The memories.

  The questions.

  Will I start to hear the screaming girl again?

  Will I freeze up at the top?

  Will the room start to spin or go crazy?

  Megan and Ronnie each grabbed one of Corky’s hands and tugged. Corky stepped off Kimmy’s shoulders and climbed.

  Higher.

  Uh-oh, she thought. Now is when the trouble comes.

  Uh-oh. Uh-oh. She held her breath. Her temples throbbed.

  She could feel the panic well up. Could feel it deaden her legs—could feel the fear rise up from her stomach, tighten her throat. She could feel it pulse at her temples, hear it ring in her ears.

  Uh-oh. Now is when the trouble comes. Now. Now. Now.

  She stiffened her knees and raised her hands high.

  Balance. Balance. She concentrated with all of her will.

  Uh-oh. Now. Now!

  And there she was—on top of the pyramid!

  Shaky. But there.

  No voices. No spinning walls. No shrieks of terror.

  No evil.

  “Congratulations!” Corky heard a voice call from the floor. “Excellent!”

  She peered down to see Miss Green applauding, a broad smile on her usually dour face. “Now, watch the dismount. Take it slow, okay?”

  A few seconds later the girls were on the floor, congratulating one another enthusiastically. Even Miss Green joined in the celebration.

  “We did it—and no broken bones!” Corky exclaimed.

  To Corky’s surprise, Kimmy threw her arms around her and smothered her in a warm hug. “I knew you could do it!” Kimmy gushed. And then, in a whisper, she added in her ear, “Maybe the evil has left us—maybe the nightmare is finally over.”

  “Carry these for me,” Debra said, handing the bundle of slender red candles to Kimmy. Debra wrapped her black cloak tighter around her neck.

  The full moon rose over the trees. The wind sent dry leaves scampering over the weeds and tall grass. Behind them on the street, a car rolled silently by, only one headlamp lighting its way.

  “I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Kimmy said grumpily. “This is so stupid.”

  “We’ll go back to my house afterward,” Corky offered. “We can order pizza.”

  “Stop complaining. The weather’s not so bad,” Debra said, leading the way up the hill.

  The dead grass clung to their boots. Somewhere in the distance the wind toppled a garbage can. The lid clattered noisily. A cat wailed, sounding human, like a baby.

  The three girls stopped at the front walk, the concrete broken and crumbling. They stared up at the ruins of the old mansion.

  “Wow,” Corky whispered. “I’ve never been this close.”

  The stone walls of the mansion were charred black, evidence of the fire that had destroyed it decades before. All of the windows had been blown out. Only the front one was boarded up with a large sheet of plywood. The rest were gaping holes, revealing darkness behind the crumbling walls.

  “Hey, look!” Kimmy bent down and picked up something from the dead grass beside the broken walk.

  Corky shone the flashlight on it. It was a doll, wide-eyed and bald, one arm missing.

  “It looks old,” Debra said, examining it closely.

  Kimmy dropped it to the ground. “What are we doing here?” she repeated. “Look at this dump.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” Debra replied mysteriously. She gripped a large black-covered book in her hand, gesturing with it toward the door. “Let’s go inside.”

  “I don’t think so,” Kimmy said unhappily, her eyes surveying the burned walls.

  “Come on,” Corky said, tugging at Kimmy’s arm. “It’s worth a try.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” Debra repeated seriously. “Visiting the Simon Fear mansion makes perfect sense to me.”

  “None of this makes perfect sense,” Kimmy grumbled, shifting the candles to her other hand. “How can going into this burnt-out old wreck on the coldest night of the year make any sense?”

  “Do you want to locate the evil spirit or don’t you?” Debra snapped, losing her patience for the first time.

  “We do,” Corky answered quickly.

  “What makes you think we’re going to find it here?” Kimmy demanded. She kicked the old doll away. It bounced across the walk and lay sprawled facedown in the grass.

  “Sarah Fear spent a lot of time in this house,” Debra explained. “If the evil spirit is hers, this is the most logical place for it to hang out.”

  “Logical,” Kimmy muttered sarcastically.

  “You’re being a bad sport,” Corky scolded. “This is better than studying for the history exam, isn’t it?”

  Debra focused on Corky, a hurt expression on her face, which was shrouded in the black hood of her cape. “You don’t believe me, either? You’re not taking this seriously?”

  “I take the evil spirit very seriously,” Corky told her in a low, somber voice. “I want to know where it is. That’s why I agreed to come with you.”

  “I take it seriously too,” Kimmy insisted. “But I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere poking around and lighting a bunch of candles in this burned-out old mansion.”

  “Well, we have to do something!” Corky cried heatedly. “Maybe Debra’s idea is dumb—and maybe it isn’t. Let’s face it, Kimmy—we’re desperate. We’ve got to act. We can’t just sit around and wait to see which one of us it kills next!”

  Corky’s speech appeared to affect Kimmy. “You’re right,” she said softly, and her expression turned thoughtful as she followed the other two toward the house.

  “I’ve been reading a lot,” Debra said, making her way through the tall weeds to the front door, holding the book in front of her, pressing it against her chest as if for protection. “This old book tells how to raise a spirit. This house is the place to raise Sarah Fear’s spirit.”

  She tugged at the old wooden door, and it suddenly pulled open easily. A damp, sour smell invaded their nostrils.

  “I can’t go in there. Really,” Kimmy insisted, taking a few steps back, her features twisted in disgust.

  “Here, I’ll give you the flashlight,” Corky offered. “Trade you for the candles.”

  “Having the flashlight won’t help,” Kimmy replied, staring into the darkness behind the open front door. “Don’t you know the stories about this place? This whole house is evil!”

  “The spirits are alive here,” Debra said, her eyes glowing in the beam of the flashlight. “I can feel them. I know we’re going to succeed.”

  Corky followed her into the house. Kimmy, her hand on Corky’s shoulder, reluctantly entered too, “Yuck! It smells in here,” she complained.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Debra said quietly. She led them through the wide entryway that opened into a large sitting room.

  Corky shone the flashlight around the room. Wallpaper curled down from the walls, streaked with black. Dark stains covered the ceiling, which bulged and drooped. The floorboards were cracked and broken. “Watch your step,” Corky warned. “Look—there are holes in the floor.”

  The air felt heavy and wet. The smell of mildew and decay surrou
nded them. The rotting floorboards creaked as the girls made their way to the center of the room.

  “This is great!” Debra exclaimed, taking a deep sniff of the sour air, her eyes glowing with excitement. “I can feel the evil spirit. I really can.”

  “I can smell it,” Kimmy said sarcastically.

  “Hand me the candles,” Debra said. She placed the book on the floor and took the candles from Kimmy.

  “Shine the light down on the book, okay? I’ve got to find the right page,” Debra instructed as she flipped through the pages.

  Corky felt a cold chill run down her back. “It—it just feels so evil in here,” she said, surveying the fire-stained walls, the broken floorboards.

  “We each take a candle,” Debra instructed. She handed Corky and Kimmy each a red one, then lighted all three.

  “We kneel in the center of the room,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper.

  Corky and Kimmy obediently knelt beside Debra.

  “Hold the candle in your left hand,” Debra instructed. “Then we put our right hands forward and clasp them in the center.”

  The girls followed these directions.

  Suddenly the flames dipped low and nearly went out. Corky gasped and let go of Kimmy’s hand.

  “You felt it too?” Debra asked, excited. “You felt the spirit?”

  “It was just the wind,” Kimmy said, rolling her eyes. “Give us a break.”

  “Try to concentrate, Kimmy,” Debra scolded. “We need total concentration. I can locate the spirit here. I know I can. But we have to concentrate.”

  “I’m concentrating,” Kimmy muttered.

  They held hands again. The candle flames dipped once more. This time none of the girls reacted.

  “I’m going to chant now,” Debra told them. “When I finish the chant, the book says we should know where the evil spirit is.”

  Corky swallowed hard. The rotting floorboards creaked. The candle flames dipped, then stood tall again.

  This is going to work, Corky thought. The spirit of Sarah Fear has to be somewhere in this frightening old place.

  “Give it the old razzmatazz,” Kimmy told Debra.

  Debra glared at Kimmy. “Ssshhh.” She raised a finger to her lips and held it there. Then, closing her eyes, she wrapped both hands around her candle and began to chant.

  The flickering light played over her pale, pretty face under the black hood. She chanted in a language Corky didn’t recognize. At first her voice was soft, but it grew louder and stronger as she continued to chant.

  Her eyes still closed, Debra began to move the candle in a circle in front of her, still gripping it with both hands. Around and around, slowly, slowly, while chanting louder and louder.

  Gripping the candle in her left hand and Kimmy’s hand in her right, Corky stared straight ahead, concentrating on Debra’s strange, musical words.

  After a few minutes, Debra finished her chant.

  She opened her eyes.

  And all three girls cried out as the evil spirit rose from a hole in the rotting floor.

  Chapter 16

  He Disappeared

  Corky leapt to her feet, staring straight ahead through the darkness as the creature struggled to rise into the room.

  Her mouth open in horror, Kimmy grabbed the flashlight and aimed it at the hole in the floor.

  The creature whimpered and scratched at the floorboards.

  “It’s a dog!” Corky cried.

  Debra’s face fell.

  Corky and Kimmy rushed forward and worked to pull the dog out of the hole in the floor. “You smelly thing,” Kimmy said, petting its head and scratching its ears. “How did you get stuck down there?”

  The dog, a forlorn-looking mutt with damp tangles of long brown fur, licked Kimmy’s nose appreciatively.

  “Don’t let him lick you, Kimmy,” Corky teased. “You don’t know where he’s been.”

  “A dog. I don’t believe it,” Debra said, sighing.

  Wagging its shaggy tail, the dog circled the room excitedly, sniffing furiously along the floor.

  “Maybe he smells the evil spirit,” Kimmy said sarcastically to Debra.

  “Not funny,” Debra muttered, gathering up the candles. “I really thought we were close to something.”

  “Me too,” Corky said, watching the dog as it loped out of the room. “I was so scared when we heard the thing start to come up from the floorboards.”

  “Bow-wow,” Kimmy said dryly, rolling her eyes.

  “I’m not giving up,” Debra insisted.

  “I am,” Kimmy said emphatically. “I’m freezing.” She handed the flashlight back to Corky and started toward the front door.

  “Kimmy, wait,” Corky called. “Want to come to my house?”

  Kimmy turned back and shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m going home and getting into a hot bath.”

  “But—”

  “Let her go,” Debra said glumly.

  “See you in school tomorrow,” Kimmy called from the front entryway, then disappeared from view.

  Corky turned back to Debra, who slammed her book shut and tucked it under her arm. “I was so psyched,” she told Corky. “So psyched”

  “Me too,” Corky said.

  “We’re the only ones who know the evil spirit is loose,” Debra said, heading to the front. “The only ones.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Corky agreed sadly. “My own parents change the subject every time I try to tell them the truth.”

  “That’s why we have to do something,” Debra said.

  “I just keep thinking about Sarah Beth Plummer and Jon Daly,” Corky said with a shudder. She pulled up the collar of her down coat and buried her face inside it like a turtle as she followed Debra to the door.

  They stepped outside, surprised to find it warmer there than in the house.

  “Yeah. That sounded like a pretty bizarre scene, the two of them in the cemetery,” Debra said thoughtfully. Her expression brightened. “You know what? We should check them out.”

  “You mean go talk to them?” Corky asked, following her toward the street.

  Debra nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Right now?” Corky asked, glancing at her watch. It was nearly ten.

  “Why not?” Debra asked.

  “Well …” Corky hesitated. That nice hot bath Kimmy had talked about sounded pretty good to her too.

  “Come on. We’ll take my car,” Debra urged, pulling Corky by the arm. “It’ll only take a few minutes to drive to Jon Daly’s house.”

  “Yeah, but what do we say when we get there?” Corky asked. “We can’t just barge in and say, ‘Jon, what were you and Sarah Beth Plummer doing in the cemetery the other night?’”

  “Why not?” Debra said. She pulled open the back door to her car and dumped the candles and book on the seat. “That’s exactly what we’ll ask.” She tossed back her hood and brushed her sleek short hair with one hand. “Come on, Corky. Get in.”

  Corky hesitated for a long moment, then pulled open the passenger door and climbed in. Debra slid into the driver’s seat and rested her hands on top of the steering wheel.

  The glow of the streetlight fell over Debra’s pale, slender hand.

  And Corky thought of Chip.

  Of Chip’s hand. Lying forlornly beside the power saw.

  She saw the hand, severed neatly at the wrist. And then the puddles of dark blood.

  And then Chip lying facedown in his own blood.

  “Corky, what’s the matter?” Debra cried, seeing Corky’s horror-filled expression.

  Corky shut her eyes tight, erasing the picture. “Let’s go see Jon Daly,” Corky said, her voice a dry whisper.

  The Dalys lived in the wealthy section of Shadyside known as North Hills, a few blocks from the high school. Debra pulled up the driveway to the house, a sprawling redwood ranch-style house behind a neatly trimmed front lawn.

  At the end of the drive, the garage door was open. A Volvo station wagon was parked inside
. Two bikes hung on the wall. Corky wondered if one of them had belonged to Jennifer.

  So much death, she thought, climbing out of the car. The evil has claimed so many victims.

  She and Debra walked side by side up the flagstone walk to the front door. Debra raised her finger to the doorbell, then hesitated.

  “Go ahead,” Corky urged. “We’re here. We might as well talk to Jon.”

  Debra rang. They heard voices inside the house, then approaching footsteps.

  The porch light went on. The front door was pulled open. Mrs. Daly’s head appeared in a rectangle of yellow light, her expression quickly turning to surprise. “Why, hello, girls.”

  Her faded blond hair was wrapped in a red bandanna. Her features seemed to melt together in the harsh light.

  “Hi, Mrs. Daly,” Corky said, clearing her throat. “Remember me? I’m Bobbi’s sister?”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Daly replied, eyeing Debra.

  “We came to see Jon,” Corky said.

  Mrs. Daly’s mouth dropped open.

  “Who is it?” Mr. Daly’s voice floated out from the living room.

  “Do you have news about Jon?” Mrs. Daly asked Corky, ignoring her husband’s question.

  “Huh?” Corky couldn’t hide her confusion. “News?”

  “Who is it?” Mr. Daly said again as he appeared behind his wife. He was tall and balding. He had on a Chicago Cubs T-shirt and straight-leg corduroys. His forehead was furrowed.

  The house smelled of stale cigarette smoke.

  “They have news about Jon,” Mrs. Daly told her husband. She gripped his hand.

  “No,” Corky corrected. “We came to see Jon.”

  “We need to talk to him,” Debra added, self-consciously adjusting her cape.

  “Oh.” Mrs. Daly’s face fell. The light faded from her eyes.

  “Jon isn’t here,” Mr. Daly said sternly.

  “We’re worried sick about him,” Mrs. Daly added, gripping her husband’s hand. “It’s been two days. Two days. We called the police.”

  “Huh? The police?” Corky glanced at Debra, who looked as startled as she did.

  Mr. Daly nodded sadly. “Yes. Jon disappeared two days ago. We don’t know what happened to him.”