Dead Of Winter (The Rift Book II) (24 page)

“That’s enough,” he muttered. Bracing his weight with his hand he lifted himself off the floor. He lingered for a moment, swaying, unsure of what to do. His thoughts were foggy.

A scratching sound came from behind him and he turned. A small figure stood just beyond the counter, in front of the refrigerator door. He squinted, trying to force his bleary eyes to adjust to the dim light. When they did, and he saw what stood there, his jaw snapped shut so hard he bit through his tongue.

It was
her
.

She wore a frilly white nightgown that hung just above her ankles. Her curly brown hair was tied up with a green ribbon. Her fingers laced together beneath her chin and her eyes were wide. They caught the reflection of the overhead lamp and glimmered.

Corky took a step backward. He felt warm liquid dribble down his chin but his brain couldn’t connect to the sensation. All he could do was stare at the little girl and tremble. It seemed for a moment as if he’d forgotten how to breathe.

The ghost’s neck skewed to the side and her eyelids narrowed. Corky took another step back. She lifted her chin to the air. Her lips parted, revealing the same set of widely-spaced teeth he had seen from above, slathered in blood, half a year ago. His shivering grew, his vision wobbled. The girl unlocked her fingers, raised her right hand, and waved.

Panic – true, mind-numbing panic – surged through him. He tried to swivel on his heels. His feet tangled and he started to tilt. His arms waved, but he couldn’t stop his descent. He fell rigid as a tree. When he hit the floor, elbow-first, pain shot through his upper arm and into his chest. It felt like he was having a heart attack. He almost passed out.

The numbness subsided. Corky took a deep breath. He heard giggling. He gradually turned his head and glimpsed the phantom. She still hovered at the far end of the counter. Her hands covered her mouth and her shoulders rocked up and down. Corky turned away and buried his face in the crook of his arm. He sobbed.

Something brushed his hand, something soft like the hair tie. He lifted his glossy eyes. The little girl was beside him now. She touched him and a frown appeared on her
pouty
lips.

“Mister,” the ghost said with a pure and innocent voice, “what’s wrong?”

“Uh…what?”

“What’s wrong, Mister?” she repeated.

The sound of her, so sweet and high-pitched, scared him. He drew back his hand and lifted himself into a half-sitting position. He tilted his own head and stared at her.

“Do you…know me?” he asked.

The ghost shook her head.

“Why are you here?”

“My mommy and daddy brought me.”

“That so?”

“Uh-huh.”

She nodded and he mimicked her actions as if she was his puppet master. Her smile reappeared.

“Mister?” she said.

“Um, yeah?”

“Who’re you?”

The simplicity of the question brought him back to earth. He brushed his fingers through his hair and squeezed the back of his neck. “I’m Charles,” he finally replied, “but my friends call me Corky.”

“That’s a silly name,” she said with a giggle.

He smiled, almost feeling normal again. “It is.
How about you?”

“I’m Shelly.
S-H-E-L-L-Y.
Shelly.”

Corky shuddered, a sensation that began in the base of his spine and worked its way up through his sinuses. The comfort that had started to grow in him vanished. Once again he thought he might lose consciousness.

The ghost’s hands were on his face now. They squeezed his cheeks. Her visage drew near to him until he could smell the chocolate on her breath. His jaw sagged and he wheezed.

“Mister,” said the ghost, “are you sick? Please don’t be sick.”

“Uh,” was all he could
say.
He dropped to his back.

He watched as the ghost lingered over him. There was real concern on her face. She leaned over with lips pursed and kissed him on the forehead.

“That will make you all better,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Mommy says her kisses are magic. She says mine are, too.”

Corky was dumbfounded. He lay there, motionless, and watched the little creature as she rocked back and forth on her knees, singing. She held his hand while she did so.
What’s wrong with me?
he
thought.
There’s
gotta
be an explanation for this.

Energy flowed back into his veins and he sat up. The little phantom rose to her feet, jumped, and clapped.

“I did it, I did it!” she exclaimed.

He rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, you did it all right.”

The girl, still clapping, swiveled and skipped in the direction of the counter. She reached up into the cookie tray and squinted in concentration as her fingers crinkled the cellophane wrapper. She pulled out a cookie. Still smiling, she twisted the two black disks apart and licked the cream inside. When she finished with the cream she nibbled on one half, then the other, going between the two as if she couldn’t decide which tasted better. Before too long the cookie was gone. She wiped the crumbs from her nightgown.

Corky watched with slack-jawed bemusement. It felt like a dream. He noticed the little girl reach back into the container and pull out another cookie. She grinned at him and he mustered enough sanity to grin back.

“Quirky,” she said. “You’re not bad, are you?”

The question (accusation?) shocked him to attention. He shook his head vehemently.
“No,
darlin
’.
Absolutely not.”

“Good. Daddy says you’re bad. I didn’t think so.”

With his heart rate slowing down he could think clearly. He did his best to convince himself this wasn’t his punishment.
Hold onto logic, bro
, his mind repeated.
It’s just a little girl. There’s nothing to be scared of here. Figure it out, already.

“Your daddy said we’re bad?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“And your mommy, too?”

She seemed to consider this for a moment before saying, “
Nuh
-uh. She thinks you might be nice. But daddy won’t let her come downstairs.”

Downstairs?
“Where are they now, sweetie?”

“Who?”

“Your folks.”

She giggled again and pointed up. “They’re in the hideout. I sneak out sometimes when they’re sleeping. My tummy hurts at night…and I like cookies.”

“That explains a lot,” he muttered.

“Huh?”

“Oh, nothing.”

With his mental barometer leaning back in the direction of calm, Corky stood up. The little girl watched him with wide eyes as he did so. A whistle escaped her lips.

“Wow,” she said. “You’re tall.”

He nodded. “Been that way my whole life,
darlin
’.”

Everything started to make sense. His disappearing cookies, the condition the place had been in when they arrived, the abandoned Mercedes in the parking lot, the strange noises from upstairs. There had been other folks here the whole time. He had to talk with them.

“Shelly,
darlin
’,” he said.

“Yeah, Quirky?”

“I think I need to talk to your parents. Can you bring me?”

“Okay.”

Corky allowed Shelly to guide him through the hotel. They entered the main hall, passed the fountain, and climbed the stairs. He couldn’t help but chuckle, remembering the heated discussions they’d had when Larry and Hector accused the second floor of being haunted.
We hear whispers
, they’d said,
and tapping, like little feet running across the ceiling
. Doug and Horace, of course, had been staying up there, and they insisted it was nothing but the moans of an old structure adjusting to the cold. The rest, however, weren’t convinced. None save the old scientist and young Marine had set foot up there since. Knowing the sounds
had
been real, that they were the movements of his new little friend and her frightened family, made the whole episode seem rather hilarious.

Looking down at her he still found it odd how similar this Shelly was to the one from his past. Again his guilt swept up on him and in that moment he made a solemn promise to himself.
I don’t care if one ain’t related to the other. I’m gonna watch over this girl. I’ll keep her safe. That’ll be my penance.

They reached the top of the stairs and worked their way down the long corridor, past room after unoccupied room. They stopped in front of a door that had
Janitorial Supplies
stenciled on it.

“This it?” he asked.

Shelly nodded.

The sound of voices reached his ears. They came from downstairs. It seemed the guys were awake. Someone yelled – it sounded like Luis – and he heard feet pounding up the staircase.

“Guys,” shouted Corky, a wide grin plastered on his lips “It’s all right. I’m up here. Looks like we haven’t been alone after a–”

The door they were standing in front of swung open. Corky’s smile vanished. From out of the darkness leapt a living shadow. It had horns on its head and held a long pole. At the end of the pole was a spade. Just like that Corky was brought back to his earlier terror. He’d been wrong to think he could cure his shame so easily.
This
was his penance, for Lucifer himself to emerge and drag Charles Ludlow and all of his misdeeds into the pit where he belonged.

The shadow lunged at him and swung its scepter. Shelly screamed in the background. The hard edge thumped him square in the face. His head snapped back. He collapsed against the wall, which caved in under his substantial weight. Again a rush of warm liquid than ran down his chin, this time in much greater quantity. His vision faded. He heard agitated voices. Once more Shelly screamed.

It turned into a din of terror that he couldn’t handle. Corky uttered one final, pathetic cry, and passed out.

*
 
 
*
 
 
*

His head ached and his eyes felt crusty. He opened them to find the fuzzy image of a man standing over him. His vision slowly came into focus. Lips appeared first, ragged and cracked. They were moving. It took a few seconds for his brain to understand what his ears heard.

“Good morning, Charles,” a familiar voice said. “I’m glad you’re finally awake.”

Corky sat up. When he did so blood rushed to his brain and he thought he might keel over. He steadied himself, bracing his hands on the edge of the mattress until the sensation passed. When it did he felt a throbbing tightness in the middle of his face. He touched his nose. Intense pain tore through him. He threw his head back and screamed.

“Be careful, Charles,” said Horace. Corky opened his eyes. He was in his room on the first floor. The old man leaned over him and placed a hand on his knee. He wore a concerned smile on his wrinkled face. “You have quite the injury, you know.
Best not to touch it.”

The dizziness returned and Corky doubled over. He didn’t know how he’d come to be in this state and it frightened him. “What happened?” he asked with a shaky voice.