Daughters of Silence (2 page)

“What is this place?” Jenna stammered.

“It's a mausoleum,” Hallie whispered. “The Fear girls are buried in there. People say their ghosts roam this place.”

Jenna swallowed hard. “There's no such thing as ghosts, Hallie,” she declared.

Hallie leaned her back against a nearby headstone. “Maybe once you hear this story, you'll change your mind about that.”

Jenna crossed her arms over her chest. “I doubt it.”

“Okay, we'll see.” Hallie tossed her head back and slowly smiled. “Here's the story. There are awful rumors about the Fears here in Shadyside. Terrible stories … They say that Simon and Angelica Fear are evil. They say that their daughters died violently. One of the sisters killed the other. And because the girls died violently, their spirits are tied to this place forever.”

The wind tossed the branches of the trees, filling the night with whispers. Jenna could almost imagine voices amid the rustling. She could almost imagine someone watching her from the shadows. She resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder. Or up at the hideous angel.

“But that's not even the worst,” Hallie told her. “People say …” She paused for dramatic effect. Her words sounded in a husky whisper. “They say that when the Fear girls were buried, their bodies had no bones! They say there are nights when the girls' skeletons walk, not dead, yet not at rest. Forever searching for a way to come back to life.”

Jenna's eerie mood vanished. “Hallie, that is really too much. I'd believe in ghosts before I'd believe that
ridiculous
story.”

“Well, maybe you wouldn't say that if you ever saw the look on people's faces around here whenever the name Fear is mentioned.”

“What kind of look?” Jenna asked.

“Well, almost as if they're … terrified.”

Jenna sighed. “Hallie, you're too gullible. Remember, you're new in town. Whoever told you that wild story was only teasing you. They probably laughed all the way home.”

“Oh, Jenna! Sometimes I think you're way too sensible for your own good,” Hallie remarked.

“Oh, Jenna, yourself,” she retorted. “Look, we'll prove it. We'll walk right up to that mausoleum, and you'll see for yourself that there are no ghouls or ghosts or dancing skeletons anywhere around here.”

Hallie's eyes glinted as she looked around. “Are you sure that's a good idea?”

“Anything that will make you stop believing that wild story is a good idea. Now come on.” Taking Hallie by the hand, Jenna started walking toward the crypt.

Dry leaves rustled underfoot as they made their way through the gravestones. Jenna glanced up at the angel statue. It loomed above them, looking even larger and more menacing.

“Can you see the inscription yet?” Hallie asked.

Jenna squinted at the letters carved above the lintel. For a moment, they seemed almost to squirm. “All I can make out from here are the names and dates. Julia Fear and Hannah Fear. They were almost the same ages as we are when they died. How sad.”

A cloud passed over the moon, plunging the cemetery into total darkness. Jenna looked up. Everything
looked and felt different. The headstones seemed to shift into twisted, shadowy shapes. Coils of mist looped up from the ground, alive and seeking … something. All around, the trees muttered and groaned with a hundred voices.

Then the air turned cold. Impossibly cold. Enfolding her like an icy shroud, numbing her body until only fear remained. Unable to take another step, she stopped.

As suddenly as it had come, the cold vanished. Jenna shook her head. It had all happened so fast … It couldn't have been real. Her imagination had been playing tricks on her, no doubt.

And then the clouds passed, revealing the moon once more. Jenna stared down at the inscription again.

“Hallie!” she called, her heart beating hard, pounding its way right out of her chest.

The other girl turned. “Jenna, what's the matter?”

“The inscription!” Jenna hissed, forcing the words up through a throat gone tight with fear. “It says, ‘Hannah and Julia, beloved daughters of Simon and Angelica Fear.' And it says … It says …”

“What?” Hallie demanded impatiently.

Jenna took a deep breath. “It says,
‘They are not dead.'”

“W
hat did you say?”
Hallie's eyes opened wide. The whites of her eyes gleamed in the dimness.

“Look for yourself,” Jenna urged. “It's right there!”

“‘They are not dead,'” Hallie read.

The girls stood staring at each other for a moment. Jenna wanted to say something sensible, but her throat felt dry and choked with fear.

A deep, eerie sound broke the silence. It sounded to Jenna like someone moaning. The mournful noise seemed to echo from all directions at once. Hallie gasped. She clutched Jenna's arm so hard it hurt.

“W-what was that?” Hallie whispered.

“An owl,” Jenna whispered back. “I think.”

Hallie tugged at her arm. “Let's get out of here.”

The breeze wafted through the trees. Branches tossed back and forth. Dark shadows leaped across the front of the mausoleum. Jenna leaned forward as
she saw something dark spattered across the lower part of the inscription.

Jenna let her breath out in a huge sigh. “Look, Hallie. Some mud or dirt is hiding some of the words.”

“I don't want to know any more,” Hallie hissed.

“Nonsense. There's always a sensible explanation for these things,” Jenna insisted. “Just wait one more minute.”

Jenna reached out to touch the inscription. The dark substance crumbled beneath her fingertips, leaving grit on her skin.

“Don't touch it!” Hallie cried.

“Hallie, it's only dirt,” Jenna told her.

“Oh.” Hallie heaved a sigh. “I thought it was blood or something.”

Jenna smiled at her friend. “You really are a twit. Now, let's see what this really says.”

She scraped at the crusted dirt with her thumbnail. It flaked away easily, leaving the inscription bare.

“‘They are not dead,'” she read, running her finger along the carved letters. “‘They live eternally in our hearts.'”

Hallie giggled. That started Jenna laughing, too, and soon they were gasping for breath.

“Can you believe we were such chickens?” Hallie asked.

Jenna had to take several breaths before she could answer. “They are not dead,” she repeated in a hollow, spooky tone.

Hallie burst into another fit of giggling. Jenna started laughing again, too. She laughed so hard, she
felt her sides ache and tears well up in the corner of her eyes.

“Oh, that was good,” Hallie gasped. “You should have seen the look on your face, Jenna.”

“The look on my face?” Jenna gasped. “You looked pale as a—”

“Don't say it!” Hallie gasped. “If I start laughing again, I don't think I'll be able to stop.”

“Me, either.”

Jenna looked up at the angel. She suddenly felt her mirth drain away, replaced by a frigid chill. The statue's gaze seemed fixed upon her, its clawlike hands ready to stretch out and snatch her up.

Jenna took a stumbling step backward, away from the mausoleum. Time to go, she thought. She looked over at Hallie. Her friend stood in front of the door. Her hand rested on the ornate wrought-iron door latch.

“Hey, it's unlocked,” Hallie exclaimed, her voice quivering with excitement. “Let's go in!”

Jenna wiped her damp hands on her gown. Sudden dread gripped her stomach with cold, clammy fingers. “In … there?”

“Why not?”

“It's a grave, Hallie.”

“All the better.” Hallie shot her a look. “Unless you want to admit there's a reason to be afraid?”

Jenna lifted her chin defiantly. “Of course not!”

“Then let's go.”

Hallie turned the latch and gave the door a push. It swung open soundlessly. Jenna blinked in surprise. She'd expected the hinges to squeak from disuse. Strange.

She peered over Hallie's shoulder. Dark shadows filled the crypt, shifting and swirling like thick, black smoke. Jenna coughed as she breathed in the musty, damp air. It smelled stale. Unpleasant. Her stomach lurched uneasily as she caught another scent, a sickly sweet, rotten odor.

Jenna's heart pounded double-time. She did not want to go in there.

“Here's a candle,” Hallie said, reaching up to a tiny shelf just outside the door. “And I've got matches right here in my pocket.”

Hallie struck the match on the marble door frame, and Jenna blinked against the flare of light. Holding the candle, Hallie stepped into the mausoleum.

Jenna wasn't about to let her friend go in alone. Still, her feet felt suddenly glued to her place outside.
Don't be silly,
she told herself firmly.

“Hallie?” she called. Her friend did not answer. Jenna peered into the shadows and spotted the flickering light of Hallie's small candle.

The breeze swirled against her back. The smell of decay grew stronger. She coughed and covered her mouth with her hand.

An odd feeling tugged at her awareness. She felt as if someone were calling to her. But not with words. She had a sudden urge to look up.

She didn't want to. But that odd feeling nagged at her, tipping her head back before she could stop herself.

Jenna gazed up.

Her breath went in, but it didn't go out again. Instead, it stayed there, hot and hurting, while her heart tried to beat its way right out of her chest.

The angel was watching her.

Its eyes had no irises, no pupils. But it saw her. Jenna could feel its menacing stare.

For a moment, she thought she heard the sound of ruffling feathers, then saw those marble wings quiver ever so slightly.

About to take flight.

About to swoop down and snatch her up.

With a gasp, she turned to run.

“Jenna!” Hallie cried as she rushed out of the mausoleum.

Jenna ignored her. All she wanted to do was run and run and run and never come back. But Hallie soon caught up with her, grabbed her by the arm, and dragged her to a stop.

“What's wrong with you?” Hallie demanded. “What happened?”

Too frightened to speak, Jenna pointed at the angel. To her astonishment, its eyes were closed.

Hallie frowned. “What about the angel?”

“It… looked at me.”

“That's impossible,” Hallie said.

“It looked at me,” Jenna insisted. “Its eyes were open and it looked at me!”

Hallie stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. “Jenna, it's a statue. It can't open its eyes.”

Jenna shook her head. She couldn't believe this. It had seemed so real, so terribly real. “I … suppose not,” she muttered. “But I was so sure.”

“You're letting your imagination run away with you,” Hallie told her. Sudden mischief sparkled in her eyes. “Now this is a first. Sensible Jenna, getting
so spooked that you thought a marble angel opened its eyes and looked at you.”

“Its eyes were open before. I swear it,” Jenna insisted. “Big, bulging eyes,” she added with a sudden shiver. “Didn't you notice before?”

“No, I guess I didn't,” Hallie replied. “And I guess I didn't notice that it was ready to fly down from its perch … and
get you!”
Hallie cried, swooping at Jenna with her arms outstretched like wings.

Jenna laughed and fended Hallie off. She felt glad that the other girl's silliness had chased away her heart-stopping terror.

“Come on, let's see the inside of the mausoleum, and then we'll go,” Hallie suggested. “Then, when people in town start their wild Fear stories, we can tell them how we walked straight into that crypt and came out again.”

Jenna tried to ignore the shudder that raced up her spine. She'd let her imagination run away with her once. She wasn't going to let it happen again. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to look up at the angel. Its eyes remained closed. It didn't look back at her.

Of course. It was a statue, after all. Only a statue.

She took a deep breath and followed Hallie into the crypt, feeling only the faintest twitch of dread as she walked under the angel.

Hallie's candle sent yellow light dancing around the room. The walls, floor, and even the single bench in the center were carved from black marble. The soft sound of their breathing bounced back at them from the stone.

“Where are they?” Hallie whispered, stopping just inside the door.

Jenna could see that two bronze squares had been set in the far wall of the crypt to mark the resting place of the Fear girls. Dampness had turned the metal blue-green.

“Those plaques say something,” she replied as curiosity overtook her misgivings.

She took the candle from Hallie and raised it high as she walked closer to the plaques. The smell of decayed flowers grew stronger. Finally, she could see the lettering.