A New Fear (10 page)

P
ain burst through Nicholas’s chest as he gasped for air.

Someone moaned.

He forced his eyes open.

A bicycle lay beside him. A tall, skinny girl was sprawled over his chest.

No wonder I cannot breathe, he thought.

She lifted her head and flung her tangled hair out of her eyes. She had black eyes. Black eyes as lifeless as the eyes of the fish Nicholas used to catch.

The girl pushed herself off his chest and scrambled to her feet. “I am sorry. It is all my fault. I am so clumsy. Are you hurt?” she asked.

Nicholas sat up. “No, I am fine. But what about you? Are you hurt?”

“No. Do not worry about me. I am so sorry. I didn’t know you were going to stop in the middle of
the road,” she explained. “And I am too slow. I could not stop in time.” She reached down and helped Nicholas to his feet.

Her hand felt moist and cold. Like holding hands with a fish, Nicholas thought.

He could not help comparing this girl with Rosalyn. Rosalyn’s eyes were deep brown. They reflected every emotion. And her skin was warm and smelled like roses.

“I should have watched where I was going,” Nicholas said, trying to be polite. The girl could not help her strange black eyes and clammy skin.

He released the girl’s hand and brushed the dirt off his clothes.

She reached down and pulled her bicycle back onto its wheels. “I have never seen you before,” she said quickly, her eyes lowered. “Are you new in town?”

“Yes, I arrived yesterday. I am Nicholas Fear.”

“I hope our next meeting is not so painful,” the girl added, her eyes still on the ground. “I must practice using the brakes.”

She is shy, Nicholas realized. “And I must practice looking where I am going, Miss—”

“Oh! Manning,” she answered. She sounded startled. “Ruth Manning.”

“I just met your father,” Nicholas said. “He gave me a job.”

“That is wonderful,” Ruth exclaimed. “I feel much better now. At least one person in my family gave you a suitable welcome to Shadyside.”

“You must stop worrying about me. I am perfectly
fine,” Nicholas insisted. “Good-bye, Miss Manning. I hope to see you again.”

“Oh, Mr. Fear?” Ruth hesitated.

“What is it?” Nicholas asked.

“You might want to button your shirt before you go,” she said.

Nicholas stared down. Three of the buttons had come undone when he fell. He laughed. “Thank you. I would not make a good first impression walking around town like this.”

He began to rebutton his shirt. “What is that you wear?” Ruth asked, pointing to the amulet.

“It was a gift,” he answered. “A gift from my fiancée.”

“I have never seen anything so beautiful,” she whispered. She reached out with trembling fingers and flipped the amulet over. “Dominatio per malum,” she read. “Power through evil.”

For the first time, her gaze met his. He shivered as he stared into her expressionless black eyes.

“Do you believe in evil, Mr. Fear?” Ruth asked solemnly.

“I believe in power,” he answered as he removed the disk from her grasp and buttoned his shirt.

Nicholas arrived for work at sunrise the next morning. He watched as several men turned cranks to lift the large doors.

While he waited, Nicholas studied everything he could see. He wanted to learn faster than anyone Mr. Manning had ever hired.

The sawmill had been built beside a wide, flowing river. The water rushed by and turned a paddle wheel. The wheel ran the machinery in the mill.

The other workers trooped inside as soon as the doors were open, and Nicholas followed them. Huge machines and large circular saws filled the building. He touched his finger to the jagged edge of one saw blade.

“Careful,” someone called. “You have to treat the saws as if they are always running. You could lose a finger if you do not.”

Nicholas turned around. A short, lean guy about Nicholas’s age stood watching him with serious blue eyes.

“You are such an old woman, Jason,” another worker joked. He looked like a human mountain. He stood over six feet tall, with a meaty, powerful build. He had bright red hair and green eyes.

“You must be the new worker Mr. Manning told us about,” the redheaded man said. “I’m Ike. And my grandmother here is Jason. You will be working with us.”

“I am Nicholas,” he replied.

“I am not an old woman,” Jason told Nicholas, shooting a hard look at his big friend. “It is smart to treat the saws as if they are dangerous—even when they are off. I just thought you should know that. Last month—”

“So, Nicholas, you ever work in a sawmill before?” Ike interrupted.

“No,” Nicholas admitted.

“Nothing to it.” He winked. “Just make sure you count your fingers at the end of the day. Jason counts his every night. He worries about his fingers so much that he failed to notice the fact that he cut off three toes!”

Ike guffawed, and Nicholas could tell Jason was trying not to smile. It is clear these two have been friends for a long time, he thought.

“I did not cut off my toes,” Jason protested halfheartedly.

“Take off your shoes and prove it!” Ike challenged. “No, wait. Here comes the boss’s daughter. You do not want to offend her with the aroma of your feet.”

“And you do not want to offend me with your flapping lips. You may be as big as a bear, but I can knock you down to size and you know it.”

Jason grinned at Nicholas. “Do not be fooled by the size of him. I have to wrestle him to the ground every few days to keep him in his place. You can do it, too. It is easy.”

Ike growled. Then smiled sweetly as Ruth walked by.

“Good morning,” Ruth murmured as she stopped beside them.

“Have you met Nicholas?” Ike asked. “It is his first day.”

“Yes, we have met.” Ruth gave Nicholas a small smile, without quite looking at him.

“Ike, would you find someone to sweep the floor, please?” Ruth asked. “The sawdust is too high.”

“Sure, Miss Manning,” Ike answered, tipping his cap.

“Does she work here?” Nicholas asked, when Ruth continued on her way.

“She takes care of the books,” Ike answered as he reached for a broom. “She is as plain as a plank of wood and never has much to say. I think she is a perfect match for Jason,” he teased.

Jason snorted, shoving his blond hair off his face. “I am not the one who falls all over her,” he shot back. “Sure, Miss Manning. Whatever you say, Miss Manning,” he mimicked.

Ike laughed good-naturedly and handed the broom to Nicholas. “The new guy sweeps.”

Nicholas began making piles of sawdust. Then he heard someone call his name. He glanced up and saw Betsy hurrying toward him, her blond hair bouncing around her shoulders.

Several of the other workers stopped what they were doing to watch her pass by, but Betsy never took her eyes off Nicholas. She thrust a brown box with red hearts drawn on it into his hands. “Your lunch!” she explained. “I made it just for you and you forgot it this morning.”

“Oh, isn’t that sweet,” Ike cooed, clasping his big, beefy hands in front of him.

“No lunch for me, Betsy?” Jason asked. “I thought you were going to help me grow as big and strong as Ike!”

“You made fun of what I brought last time, so you
are not getting anything else,” Betsy answered. “Nicholas gets all my lunches from now on.”

Betsy tossed her blond curls over her shoulder and smiled at Nicholas. “Mother says I should call you Mr. Fear, since you are a boarder. But I like Nicholas better! You do not mind, do you?”

Nicholas shook his head. Jason turned and stared at Nicholas, his blue eyes icy.

“Nicholas is handsomer than you and Ike put together, so I have decided to cook only for him!” Betsy teased Jason.

She did not appear to notice how serious Jason’s expression had grown. But Nicholas did. He could see the muscles flexing in Jason’s jaw.

“Betsy, you are looking for trouble flirting that way,” Jason warned, his voice harsh. “You have to leave now. There is work to be done here.”

Jason must really like Betsy, Nicholas thought. He is so jealous and all she did was bring me my lunch.

“All right,” Betsy agreed with a sigh. “See you tonight,” she called to Nicholas. Then she scampered out of the mill, getting a few more appreciative glances from the men.

Nicholas felt the back of his neck prickle. He had the sensation of someone watching him. Staring at him. He glanced up, and found Ruth standing at the window of one of the second-floor offices. He waved to her, but she turned away.

Poor Ruth, he thought. She must feel bad seeing all
the men goggling over Betsy. I bet no man has ever looked at her that way.

Nicholas shrugged and returned to sweeping up the sawdust.

By the end of his first day, Nicholas had decided he liked the lumber business.

Wood smells a lot better than fish, he thought as he strolled back to the boardinghouse. It had a fresh smell. He did not mind ending the day smelling like sawdust.

And the wood felt smooth—not slimy.

Nicholas heard a faint rustle in the bushes alongside the road. He stopped. The sound stopped, too.

He began to walk again. The rustling sound began again.

Is someone following me?

Nicholas knew almost no one in town. Who could be following him?

Pain jabbed the back of his head. Something fell to the ground with a thud.

A rock. Someone had thrown a rock at him!

Nicholas touched the back of his head and winced. Warm, sticky blood coated his fingers. He could feel more blood running down his neck.

He kicked the rock. It rolled twice, then stopped.

There is something tied around it, Nicholas realized.

Ignoring the pain in his head, he bent down and grabbed the rock. A piece of brown paper covered
it. Nicholas pulled off the string and opened the paper.

“No,” he whispered as he read the message. Who would do such a thing?

“Be afraid, Nicholas Fear,” the note read. “You don’t belong in Shadyside.”

Chapter 20

N
icholas sucked in his breath. The gash in his scalp burned as Betsy dabbed alcohol on it.

“You have to be careful working at the sawmill. Accidents can happen so easily,” she cautioned him.

“It did not happen at the sawmill,” he said through clenched teeth. “It happened while I was walking home.”

Betsy put the alcohol on the kitchen table and sat in the chair next to his. “Someone attacked you?”

He shrugged. “Someone threw a rock at me. With this note wrapped around it.” He dug the crumpled note out of his pocket and handed it to her.

Her blue eyes widened as she read the words.

“I do not know why anyone would threaten me like that. I can think of nothing I have done to cause such hatred.” Nicholas’s brow furrowed.

“Actually, Nicholas, it could have been anyone,” Betsy admitted. “People in Shadyside have always hated the Fears. The Goodes especially.”

“Why?” Nicholas asked. “Why would anyone hate an entire family?”

Betsy sighed. “There is an old feud between the Goodes and the Fears. I do not know how it began. But there is much hatred on both sides.” Betsy hesitated, her blue eyes filled with concern for Nicholas.

“Tell me,” Nicholas urged.

“It is said that the Fears practiced dark magic. Many people—not just the Goodes—claim they performed strange ceremonies in their mansion. Ceremonies that required blood. That is why the mansion is set so far back from the street—the Fears did not want anyone to see what they did there.”

Nicholas did not know what to say. He stared down at his hands. He did not want Betsy to notice how badly her story had upset him.

“I should wash off this blood,” he muttered. He had kept one hand over his head wound all the way back to the boardinghouse. His hands were caked with dried blood.

Nicholas stood and crossed to the sink. He ran water over his hands. The dry, brown blood grew thick, sticky, and bright red. The blood’s rusty scent filled his nostrils.

Their ceremonies involved blood, he thought. What were they doing inside the mansion?

He lathered soap over his hands and scrubbed his skin viciously. Scrubbed it until it was raw.

Then he turned the water off. But he did not take his seat beside Betsy.

What else would he discover about the Fear family?
His
family? “What else?” he asked in a low voice.

He heard Betsy’s chair scrape against the floor as she stood up. She hurried over and placed her hand on his back.

He tensed.

“I heard that two of Simon and Angelica’s children were found in the Fear Street Woods. All their bones had been removed. At least that is the story people tell.”

Betsy hesitated again, then continued in a rush. “People say many of the Fears have died strange and horrible deaths. They say bad luck follows every member of the family. But I do not believe in bad luck,” Betsy added firmly. “And neither should you.”

Nicholas looked over his shoulder. “How do you know so much about my family?”

“I am a Goode—sort of. My mother was a Goode before she married my father.”

Betsy reached around him and picked up a large knife. She ran her finger along the shiny edge.