Prom Nights from Hell Page 9

  There was a fat guy at a desk, and he looked up at the tiny squeak the doors made shifting. His little piggy eyes widened, and he took a huge breath. Mouth open, he pointed.

  “There’s been a mistake,” I blurted, heading to the open archway and the dimly lit hall. “I’m not dead.”

  But I was feeling really weird again. Misty and thin. Stretched. Nothing sounded right, either, and the gray was edging my sight to make a tunnel-like vision.

  Behind me, Barnabas pushed through the doors. Immediately the world shifted to normal. It was the amulet he wore that kept me solid. I had to get me one of those.

  “Yes, she is,” he said, never slowing down until he grabbed my wrist. “You’re hallucinating. She’s not really here. Neither am I.”

  “Where did you come from?” the guy managed, staring. “How did you get in there?”

  Lucy shoved in, the swinging door banging against the wall to make me and Desk Guy jump. “Madison, quit being a stiff. You gotta go.”

  This was too much for the technician, and he reached for the phone.

  I twisted my wrist, but Barnabas wouldn’t release me. “I have to talk to my dad!” I exclaimed, and he yanked me off balance.

  “We’re leaving,” he said, a new threat in his eyes. “Right now.”

  Frantic, I stomped on his foot. Barnabas howled, his gangly form bending double as he let go. Lucy laughed at him, and I darted for the hallway. Try to stop me, I thought, then ran right into something big, warm, and smelling of silk. I backed up, becoming scared when I saw it was Seth. He had killed me with a sword that left no mark when driving me off a cliff failed to do it. He was a dark reaper. He was my death.

  “Why are there two of you?” he asked as he looked at Barnabas and Lucy. The cadence of his voice was familiar, but the sound of it hit my ears wrong. And the scent of sea now smelled like rot. “That’s right,” he added, pulling his gaze back to me, and I shuddered. “You died on the anniversary of your birth. Two reapers. My, my, my. Such the drama queen, Madison. I’m glad you’re up. It’s time to go.”

  Hunched and afraid, I retreated. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Madison!” Barnabas shouted. “Run!”

  But there was only the morgue to run to. Lucy got in front of me, hands spread wide as if she could stop Seth with her will alone. “What are you doing here?” she said, voice shaking. “She’s already dead. You can’t flip her twice.”

  Seth scuffed his shoes confidently. “As you said, I flipped her coin. She’s mine if I want her.”

  Barnabas paled. “You never come back for them. You’re…” His eyes darted to the stone about Seth’s neck. “You’re not a black reaper, are you?”

  Seth grinned as if it was a big joke. “No. I’m not. I’m a little bit more. More than you can handle. Leave, Barnabas. Just walk away. It won’t hurt if you do.”

  I stared at Barnabas, helpless. His brown eyes met mine, saw my fear. I watched him visibly gather his courage.

  “Barnabas!” Lucy shouted, terrified. “Don’t!”

  But Barnabas launched himself at the dark figure in black silk. In a motion so casual it was frightening, Seth turned to smack him with the back of his hand. Arms and legs flailing, Barnabas flew backward, hitting the wall and slumping to the floor, out cold.

  “Run!” Lucy shouted, pushing me toward the morgue. “Stay in the sun. Don’t let the black wings touch you. We’ll get help. Someone will find you. Get out of here!”

  “How?” I exclaimed. “He’s in front of the only door.”

  Seth moved again, this time backhanding Lucy. She crumpled where she stood, leaving only me since the technician had either passed out or was hiding under the desk. Jaw trembling, I stood to my full height—such as it was—and tugged my dress straight. Deeper in it yet, apparently.

  “She meant,” Seth said, his voice both familiar and strange, “to run through the walls. You had a better chance against the black wings in the sun than with me under the ground.”

  “But I can’t…,” I started, then looked at the swinging doors. I went through them, having shifted them open only a few inches. What the heck was I? A ghost?

  Seth smiled, chilling me. “Nice to see you, Madison, now that I can really…see you.” He took off his mask and let it drop. His face was beautiful, like chiseled stone made soft.

  I licked my lips and went cold to the bone when I remembered him kissing me. Holding one arm to myself, I backed away, trying to get out of Barnabas’s and Lucy’s influence so I could run through the walls. Hey, if Mr. Creepy thought I could do it, then maybe I could.

  Seth followed, step for step. “We leave together. No one will believe I culled you unless I throw you at their feet.”

  Heels clicking, I kept moving. My gaze darted to Barnabas and Lucy, both still sprawled on the tile. “I’d rather stay, thanks.” My heart pounded, and my back hit the wall. A little yelp slipped from me. I was far enough away from them that I should be misty, but I wasn’t. I stared at Seth, then at that black stone about his neck. It was the same. Damn it!

  “You don’t have a choice,” he said. “I’m the one that killed you. You’re mine.”

  He reached out, grabbing my wrist. Adrenaline surged, and I twisted.

  “The hell I am,” I said, then kicked him in the shins. He clearly felt it, grunting as he bent in pain, but didn’t let go. He had put his face in my reach, though, and grabbing his hair, I slammed his nose against my rising knee. I felt cartilage snap, and my stomach turned.

  Cursing in a language that hurt my head, he let go and fell back.

  I had to get out of here. I had to be solid or I’d never make it. Heart pounding, I grabbed the stone about his neck, pulling the necklace over his ears and off him. It tingled in my hand like fire, and I clenched my fingers around it, willing to suffer if it meant I would be whole.

  Seth hit the floor, gaping up at me with red blood covering his face. He looked as surprised as if he had run into a glass wall.

  “Madison…,” Barnabas rasped from the floor.

  I turned, seeing him stare at me with pain-laced, unfocused eyes.

  “Run,” he gasped.

  Seth’s amulet in my hand, I turned to the open hallway…and I ran.

  3

  “DAD!” I STOOD IN the open front door, heart pounding as I listened to the silence seep up from the tidy, well-ordered state my dad kept the house in. Behind me, a lawn mower droned in the early sun. The gold haze spilled in to glint on the hardwood floors and the banister leading upstairs. I had run the entire way in my heels and that obnoxious dress. People had stared, and that I wasn’t a bit tired kind of freaked me out. My pulse was fast from fear, not exertion.

  “Dad?”

  I stepped in, my eyes pricking with emotion when from upstairs came my dad’s incredulous, shaky voice calling, “Madison?”

  I took the stairs two at a time, tripping on my skirt and clawing my way up the last step. Throat tight, I rustled to a stop in the doorway to my room. My dad was sitting on the floor amid my boxes, opened but never unpacked. He looked old, his thin face gaunt with heartache, and I couldn’t move. I didn’t know what to do.

  Eyes wide, he stared as if I weren’t there. “You never unpacked,” he whispered.

  A hot tear ran down to my chin, coming from nowhere. Seeing him like this, I realized he did need me to remind him of the good stuff. No one had ever needed me before. “I…I’m sorry, Dad…,” I managed as I stood there, helpless.

  He took a breath and snapped out of it. Emotion lit his face. In a surge of motion, he stood. “You’re alive?” he breathed, and I gasped when he took the three steps between us and brought me to him in a crushing hold. “They said you were dead. You’re alive?”

  “I’m okay,” I sobbed into his chest, the release washing through me so hard it was painful. He smelled like the lab he worked in, of oil and ink, and nothing ever smelled so good. I couldn’t stop my tears. I was dead—I think. I had an amulet, but I didn’t kno
w if I was going to be able to stay, and the fear of that fed my helplessness. “I’m okay,” I said around a hiccupping sob. “But there was a mistake.”

  Half laughing, he pushed me back enough to see my face. Tears brightened his eyes, and he smiled as if he’d never stop. “I was at the hospital,” he said. “I saw you.” The memory of that pain crossed behind his eyes, and he touched my hair with a shaking hand as if to reassure himself I was real. “But you’re okay. I tried to call your mother. She’s going to think I’m crazy. More crazy than usual. I couldn’t leave a message telling her you were in an accident. So I hung up. But you’re really okay?”

  My throat was tight, and I sniffed loudly. I was not going to give up my amulet. Never. “I’m sorry, Dad,” I said, still crying. “I shouldn’t have gone with that guy. I never should have. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

  “Shhhh.” He pulled me back into a hug, rocking me, but I only cried harder. “It’s okay. You’re all right,” he soothed, his hand brushing my hair. But he didn’t know I really was dead.

  His breath catching, my dad halted in a sudden thought. He put me at arm’s length, and the cold that spilled into me when he looked me over ended my tears in a soft sniffle. “You’re really fine,” he said in wonder. “Not a scratch on you.”

  I smiled nervously, and one of his arms slipped from me. “Dad, there’s something I need to tell you. I—”

  There was a soft scuff at the door. My dad’s eyes shot over my shoulder, and I turned to find Barnabas standing awkwardly next to a short man in a loose, martial arts kind of an outfit. It was billowy. Not functional at all. He was upright and thin, with sharp features and very dark skin. His eyes were a deep brown, heavily lined at the corners. His hair, too, said he was old, the tight curls graying at the temples.

  “I’m sorry,” my dad said, pulling me to stand beside him. “Did you bring my daughter home? Thank you.”

  I didn’t like Barnabas’s grimace, and I had to work to not hide behind my dad. His arm was still around me, and I didn’t want to move. Crap. I think Barnabas had brought his boss. I wanted to stay. Damn it, I don’t want to be dead. This isn’t fair!

  The dark man made a rueful face. “No,” he said, the word having a pleasant crispness. “She managed that all by herself. God knows how.”

  I wiped my eyes, frightened. “They didn’t bring me home,” I said, shifting nervously. “I don’t know them. I’ve seen the guy,” I added, “but not the old man.”

  Still, my dad smiled neutrally, trying to piece it together. “Are you from the hospital?” he asked, and then his face hardened. “Who’s responsible for telling me my daughter was dead? Someone’s head is going to roll over this.”

  Barnabas cringed, and his boss sniffed his agreement. “Truer words have not been said, sir.” His eyes traveled over my room, taking in the pink walls, white furniture, and opened boxes never fully unpacked. They landed on me last, and I wondered what conclusions he’d made. With my life ending so abruptly, I was sort of like my room—everything was here, but nothing out of the boxes. And now everything would get taped back shut and shoved into a closet, all the good stuff never seen or realized. I’m not done yet.

  I stiffened when the man took a step into my room, a thin hand raised placatingly. “We need to talk, child,” he said, striking me cold.

  Oh God. He wanted me to go with him.

  I clutched the amulet to me, and my dad’s grip on me tightened. He saw my frightened eyes and finally understood something was wrong. Shifting, he put himself between me and the two people in the doorway. “Madison, call the police,” he said, and I reached for the phone on the bedside table. That I had unpacked.

  “Ah, we need a moment,” the old man said.

  I pulled my attention up as he waved his hand like a bad actor in a science fiction movie. The hum of the open line cut off, and from outside, the mower quit. Shocked, I stared at the phone, then my dad standing between me and the two men. He wasn’t moving.

  My knees felt watery. Setting the phone back in the cradle, I stared at my dad. He seemed all right. Apart from the not-moving thing.

  The old man sighed, and my attention jerked to him. Son of a dead puppy, I thought, cold and scared. I wasn’t leaving without a fight.

  “Let him go,” I said, my voice trembling. “Or I’ll…I’ll…”

  Barnabas’s lips quirked, and the man arched his eyebrows. His eyes were a grayish blue. I could have sworn they had been brown. “You’ll what?” he said, taking a firmer stance on the carpet with his arms over his chest.

  I glanced at my dad, frozen. “I’ll scream, or something,” I threatened.

  “Go ahead. No one will hear you. It will be a pop of nothing, too fast to be heard.”

  I took a breath to chance it, and he shook his head. My breath exploded out of me and I backpedaled when he lurched into the room. But he wasn’t coming for me. Yanking my white chair from the vanity, he sat with his small body at an angle. He dropped an elbow onto the top and then cradled his forehead in his hand as if weary. He made an odd picture against the music box and girl stuff.

  “Why can’t anything be easy?” he muttered, fingering my ceramic zebras. “Is this a joke?” he said louder at the ceiling. “Are you laughing? Getting a good laugh out of this, are you?”

  I looked at the door, and Barnabas shook his head in warning. Fine. There was still the window—though with this dress, I might kill myself if I fell. Oh, wait. I was dead already. “Is my dad okay?” I asked, daring to touch his elbow.

  Barnabas nodded, and the old man brought his gaze back to me. Grimacing as if making a decision, he extended his hand. I stared at it, not reaching for it. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said firmly. “Madison, was it? Everyone calls me Ron.”

  I stared at him, and he slowly put his arm down. His eyes were brown again. “Barnabas told me what you did,” he said. “Can I see it?”

  Surprised, I fidgeted, my fingers sliding off my dad’s arm. Man…this was creepy. It was like the entire world had stopped, but I was a walking dead, so I guess my dad being frozen was a small thing. “See what?”

  “The stone,” Ron said, and the hint of anxiety in his voice struck me like fire.

  He wanted it. He wanted it, and it was the only thing keeping me alive. Or not quite dead. “I don’t think so,” I said, sure of its value when Ron’s expression became alarmed as my hand crept up to feel the stone’s cool surface.

  “Madison,” he soothed, standing. “I simply want to look at it.”

  “You want it!” I exclaimed, heart pounding. “It’s the only thing keeping me solid. I don’t want to die. You guys messed up. I’m not supposed to be dead! It’s your fault!”

  “Yes, but you are dead,” Ron said, and my breath hissed in when he extended his hand. “Just let me look at it.”

  “I’m not giving it up!” I shouted, and Ron’s eyes lit in fear.

  “Madison, no! Don’t say it!” he shouted, reaching.

  I stumbled back out of my dad’s questionable protection, clutching it. “It’s mine!” I shrieked, my back hitting the wall.

  Ron lurched to a halt, dismay clear on his old features as his arm dropped. The world seemed to balance. “Oh, Madison,” he breathed. “You really shouldn’t have.”

  Not knowing why he had stopped, I stared at him, then stiffened when a shiver moved through me. A cramping-ice feeling rose from my palm and the amulet, and it raced through my entire body, making me stiffen. It was like an electrical shock. I heard my pulse echo in me, the thump coming back from the inside of my skin before it filled the space and made me feel almost…whole. An instant later, it backlashed with a feeling of heat to balance out the cold, and then…it was done.

  My breath slammed out of me, and I stood, frozen with my back to the wall. Heart pounding, I stared at Ron. He had a miserable look, quiet and depressed in his robes. I was afraid to move. But the amulet in my hand felt different. Little sparkles of sensation still shot from
it, and unable to stop myself, I opened my fingers to look. My jaw dropped, and I stared. It wasn’t the same. “Look!” I said stupidly. “It changed.”

  His back bowed, Ron slumped into the chair, muttering under his breath. Shocked, I dropped the pendant to hold it by the cord. When I had ripped it from the black reaper, it had been a simple, gray, river-washed stone. Now it was utterly black, like a spot of nothing dangling from the cord. The black wire cradling it had taken on a silver sheen, catching the light and throwing it around the room. Crap. Maybe I had broken it. But it was beautiful. How could it be broken?

  “That’s not what it looked like when I got it,” I said, then went cold at the look of pity Ron now wore. Behind him, Barnabas looked almost terrified, his face white and his eyes wide.

  “You got that right,” Ron said bitterly. “We had a hope of ending this properly until you claimed it. But no-o-o, now it’s yours.” His eyes met mine in wry disgust. “Congratulations.”

  Slowly my hand dropped, and I shifted nervously. It was mine. He said it was mine.

  “But it was a black reaper’s stone,” Barnabas said, and I started at the fear in his voice. “That thing wasn’t a reaper, but it had a reaper’s stone. She’s a black reaper!”

  My lips parted. “Whoa, wait up.”

  “She’s a black reaper!” Barnabas shouted, and my jaw dropped when he shook his shirt and brought out a short hand scythe, twin to Seth’s. Jumping, he got between me and Ron.

  “Barnabas!” Ron bellowed, cuffing him to send him stumbling back to the door. “She’s not a black reaper, you idiot! She’s not even a white one. She can’t be. She’s human, even if she is dead. Put that away before I age it to rust!”

  “But it’s a black reaper’s stone,” he stuttered, his narrow shoulders hunched. “I saw her take it!”

  “And whose fault is it that she knew what it was, Barney?” he mocked, and the young man dropped back, ducking his head, clearly embarrassed.