Daughters of Silence (6 page)

It
is
very hot up here, Jenna thought. She only needed some fresh air. Just because the bracelet had once belonged to a dead girl, she'd let her imagination run away with her again.

“Yes, I must have gotten too warm,” she told Angelica and Simon. “That makes sense.”

Hallie laughed. “Jenna likes things to make sense.”

“Ah.” Simon cocked one dark brow. “And you, Hallie? Do you like things to make sense?”

“I like adventure,” she told him. “And I'm always getting poor Jenna in trouble.”

“And why do you let Hallie get you into trouble, Jenna?” Simon asked curiously.

Jenna shrugged. “She's my best friend,” she explained.

“And she'd never desert me in a pinch,” Hallie added. “Right, Jenna?”

“Right,” Jenna replied with a nod. Again, she noticed Simon and Angelica exchange a meaningful glance. Almost as if they were sending each other a silent message, Jenna felt. But that was impossible. As impossible as the burning bracelet.

“Jenna, are you sure you're feeling all right?” Angelica asked.

“I'm fine, honest,” Jenna insisted.

Sure or not, she wanted to get out of this house as fast as possible. She shot a glance at Hallie. “We really have to be going now, Hallie.”

Hallie blinked, almost as if she'd been daydreaming. “Oh. Yes. I suppose we do,” she agreed.

“We'll show you to the door,” Simon offered, leading the way.

Angelica strolled behind him. Jenna followed, pulling Hallie after her. Once again, the walk down the long, shadowy hallway felt endless.

Jenna paused, glancing down at her wrist. Even in the dim corridor, the crystal bracelet sparkled, as if lit from within.

She turned and followed Angelica and Hallie downstairs. Up ahead, she saw Simon opening the heavy front door.

“Thank you for coming to visit,” he said, holding the door as they passed. “I hadn't realized how lonely
we were until I saw your fresh young faces. Such pretty girls.”

Hallie giggled. “Thank you.”

“And you do remind me of sisters,” he added, his cold, dark eyes fixing on Jenna.

“Thank you,” she mumbled as she quickly stepped toward the threshold.

She felt Angelica's grip on her arm, stopping her dead in her tracks. Angelica's thin fingers felt very cool, her pointy nails biting into Jenna's flesh through the fabric of her gown.

“Promise you'll come again,” Angelica urged. “I don't think I could bear it if you didn't.”

“Of course we'll come again,” Hallie vowed.

Astonished, Jenna stared at her friend. She couldn't believe Hallie had promised to return!

Hallie didn't seem to notice Jenna's stare. She led the way out onto the porch, pausing to wave to their hosts as she neared the steps. Jenna didn't look back. The moment they were out of sight of the house, she ripped off the bracelet.

“What are you doing?” Hallie demanded.

“I'm not going to wear this,” Jenna replied.

“Why not?”

Jenna shuddered, remembering that terrifying moment when her body felt swallowed up by flames. “It belonged to a
dead
girl.”

“So what?” Hallie retorted. “So did my locket, and I love it. I'm going to wear it all the time.”

“Well, I can't.”

Hallie laughed. “You're a goose, Jenna. It's such a pretty bracelet. The Fears were very generous to give
it to you and you're making something horrible out of it.”

“I don't feel right wearing it,” Jenna insisted. “And I can't believe you promised to go back there.”

“Why not?” Hallie asked. “Don't you feel sorry for them? Especially Angelica. I thought she would burst out crying when she told us the story about the scones.”

“I thought so, too,” Jenna replied. Jenna had never seen anyone look quite as mournful as Angelica did each time she spoke about her daughters. And she had felt sorry for her. Yet, sorry or not, some other voice whispered an urgent warning.

“Yes, I feel sorry for them,” she told her friend. “And they were nice to us. But I don't want to go back.”

“They might give us more pretty things,” Hallie wheedled.

“Hallie, that's awful!”

The other girl tossed her blond curls. “Oh, you know I don't mean that. But the other girls are going to be
so
jealous when they find out we were invited here. And every time we go back, we'll have something exciting to tell our new friends.”

Jenna pressed her hand against her pocket, feeling the hard shape of the crystal beads. “If that's the only reason they'd want to be your friends, maybe they're not worth having as friends.”

“That's easy for you to say,” Hallie retorted. “You can go back to Brentsville where you know everybody.”

“Hallie—”

With a whirl of skirts and blond hair, Hallie spun around and started running toward the woods.

“Wait!” Jenna shouted after her. “Hallie, what are you doing? Hallie!”

But either Hallie didn't hear, or didn't pay attention. She kept running. A moment later, she disappeared among the trees. Jenna let her breath out in a hiss of exasperation.

“Well, suit yourself, Hallie. I'm not about to chase you all the way home,” Jenna said aloud, feeling irritated with her friend. “I'm going to take my time … and you can just wait.”

She set off toward the Sheridans' home. The sun sat low in the summer sky, illuminating the thick, green woods with slanting beams of red-orange light. Masses of tiny purple flowers carpeted the ground. They seemed to glow against the dark leaves that covered the forest floor.

Jenna felt her foul mood vanish. She knew Hallie. Once her friend ran off her temper, she'd be cheerful and agreeable again.

Jenna walked slowly and gazed around. The light changed from orange to deep red and it seemed as though she'd stepped inside a jewel. She spotted the nodding blooms of some Queen Anne's lace, and stopped to pick a bouquet.

Raising the flowers to her nose, she inhaled their scent as she strolled on. She'd give the flowers to Mrs. Sheridan. Hallie's mother would be pleased, Jenna decided.

Her foot slammed painfully into a tree root and her arms windmilled for a moment as she tried to keep
her balance. The flowers flew in all directions as she hit the ground face forward. Hard enough to knock the wind out of her lungs.

Jenna lay gasping, her cheek pressed to the soft, damp floor of the woods. Finally, she took a deep breath and started to push herself up. Her right hand slipped out from under her and she felt something sticky on her palm. Ugh! She sat quickly and stared down at her hand.

“What—” she began.

A dark smear stained her palm.

Mud. Yuck. She rubbed her hand on her dress.

No. Not mud.

A red, wet stain marked the pale-yellow fabric of her dress.

Jenna stared down at the crimson smear. A bitter taste flooded the back of her throat.

Blood.

J
enna scrambled to her feet. She must have cut herself. Badly, too, to be bleeding so much. She searched her palm, but didn't find a wound. Strange, her hand didn't hurt at all, either.

It didn't make sense. Why didn't she see a cut? Where did the blood come from?

A chill slithered up her spine. If this wasn't her blood, then it must be … someone else's.

Her gaze dropped to the spot on the forest floor where she had fallen.

All around, thick, red splotches coated the green leaves. Jenna had never seen so much blood. She took a step backward. Blood spattered the ground and dripped down the trunk of a white birch tree. With a gasp, she stared in shock at the bloody handprint that stood out with terrible sharpness against the white bark.

Just above the handprint, a thin metal object glinted in the fading sunlight. Like a silver knitting needle jabbed into the tree.

Jenna reached out and yanked the metal object by its rounded, knobby end. She looked down at it. Her lip curled back in horror. A small, carefully carved skull stared up at her from the needle's rounded end. The other end tapered to a fine, incredibly sharp tip.

Jenna knew instantly what she held in her hand.

The long silver pin looked exactly like those she'd seen at the Fears' house: the pins that stabbed through the hideous doll made by Hannah Fear.

She swiftly glanced back at the blood-splattered tree and ground. Then down at the silver, skullheaded needle that glistened with droplets of blood.

Jenna shrieked in horror and flung the needle onto the ground.

She heard the underbrush rustle. Then the unmistakable crunch of footsteps on the path nearby.

Who was out there? The person who had left that bloody print on the tree … and that horrifying silver needle?

He'd seen her. He was coming back.

Jenna felt her breath coming in heavy gasps. She had to run. Get away. Fast. But her feet felt rooted to the ground.

A scream welled up in her chest. She fought to swallow it back. But couldn't.

Her shriek echoed through the woods.

Whirling, she started running. She ran and ran. Down the narrow, twisting path and then into the dark woods.

Close behind her, she heard the footsteps, faster now. Pounding on the forest floor.

She picked up her skirt and ran with one arm out to push back the scratching branches that blocked her way. She crashed through the tangled brush and lowlying tree boughs. Her skirts tangled in her legs, and branches clawed at her hair as she tore through the bushes. Her hair fell loose from her braid and whipped wildly across her face.

Still, the footsteps followed her.

She ran faster than she'd ever run in her life. Her heartbeat roared in her ears. Each breath burned her chest and her legs ached painfully. But she kept going. Thinking of the blood. The long silver needle. Dripping with blood.

Her toe caught on a tree root and she stumbled to the ground. Exhausted, she desperately pulled herself up and staggered forward. She couldn't fall. She couldn't stop.

Not now. Not here.

She stilled her breath and listened.

The footsteps still followed. Closer and closer.

No! a voice in Jenna's mind roared. She couldn't let him catch her, she couldn't.

She heard the footsteps even louder now. She kept moving forward. But the woods grew so thick here. She could barely take a step without her feet tangling in vines and stiff, scratchy bushes.

He was right behind her. She could hear his breath rasping nearly as fast as hers.

She wasn't going to make it. He was faster, stronger.

He was going to get her.

A sob of despair rose in her throat as she clawed her way through the brush.

“No,” she panted. “No!”

She felt two heavy hands grab her shoulders. She struggled to pull away, but the grip felt too strong.

Twisting and struggling, she screamed with all her might.

Her shriek of sheer horror rang through the dark woods.

But she knew no one could hear her. No one could help her.

Jenna's captor wrapped a powerful arm around her waist and pulled her to a stop.

“L
et me go!” Jenna cried, struggling frantically.

Her captor held on, impossibly strong. She squirmed and struggled, bruising herself in his grasp.

“Stop,” a low voice murmured in her ear. “Don't be afraid.”

Taking her by both shoulders, he turned her around to face him. Jenna found herself looking up at a boy around her own age. He stood at least a head taller than her. Dark-brown hair flopped across his broad forehead. Jenna stared into his deep brown eyes.

“Don't hurt me,” she gasped.

He kept his grip on her shoulders, but his touch felt gentle. “I'm not going to hurt you,” he assured her. “I promise.”

“Y-you chased me.”

“I heard you screaming,” he explained. “I only wanted to help.”