Nightmare (28 page)

"Sure I do," Jordin replied. "It just ... never gets any easier.
Being without them. I guess I never really thought of heaven as
a prison. It's supposed to be a reward, not a confinement."

"Got me," I said. It was a nice thought, but I doubted that
most believers would accept it. "The way my mom always describes
heaven, it sounds like a place so great that you'd never want to
leave."

Before I could stop it, bitterness crept to the surface as I
thought of how Jordin had abandoned me in the bowels of the
North Carolina. She still didn't know what had happened to me
down there because I hadn't told her, but I was most hurt by the
fact that when we were down there, she didn't even stop long
enough to make sure I was okay. She just kept running, kept
chasing, kept pursuing this obsession. But I didn't know what
it was like to grow up without parents, either, I told myself. I
wondered if the thought of getting back someone I'd lost would
be enough to drive me to such mania.

Jordin still looked far away, but she snapped back suddenly
after the room had been silent a little too long. "There's something I'd like to try. It's kind of extreme, but I think it might
bring me a step closer to reaching my parents."

I didn't like the sound of that. "Okay..."

"That inhuman face we captured at the cemetery, it got me thinking about aspects of the paranormal we haven't got into
yet, and I can't help wondering if trying other avenues of the
paranormal might yield different results.... There's this old
abandoned church in New Jersey I want to visit. It's called Mount
Hope Methodist Episcopal, and locals say it's not only haunted,
it's possessed by a dark spirit."

My face hardened and my muscles clenched. "Absolutely not.
What you call Mount Hope is nicknamed the `Satanic Church
of New Jersey.' Actually wanting to go there is something I would
describe as madness-especially for someone with as little experience as you've had, no offense. It could be a demonic haunt."

"I looked it up, and there's no evidence that there's an actual
demon living in that place," said Jordin, crossing her arms. "It's
an urban myth. And even if there is, I have nothing to fear from
it. It can't touch me. I'm a Christian! Derek always says, `I've
been bought with the blood of Jesus Christ, and against that,
the forces of darkness have no power.' "

My jaw was clenching involuntarily and I forced it to relax as I
replied, "My mother would disagree. She always warned, `The powers of darkness have no power except that which passes through
God's hands.' Sometimes God allows bad things to happen to
test you. To test us. To grow us and mold our character."

Jordin hesitated, thoughtful. "Okay, yeah, that sounds familiar, too. But even still, there's no way He would let one of His
followers come to any actual harm at the hands of a demon."

I had an impulsive thought. "Are you telling me the truth
about your reasons, Jordin? Is this really about contacting your
parents? I mean, I know you've acquired a taste for the paranormal, and I know how addictive the thrill of the hunt can be,
but-"

"This isn't about feeding some addiction," she replied.

"Then what?! What on earth would drive you to such an
extreme as this? I can't believe your parents would ever want
their daughter to go near something like this."

Jordin's expression turned grim. "If you won't take me, I'll
go by myself."

"Are you crazy? You stay away from that place! You hired
me because of my expertise, and my expertise forbids you to go
there."

Her eyebrows rose, but she didn't smile. "You work for me.
You don't get to forbid anything."

I stared her down, wanting to grab her by the shoulders and
shake some sense into her. Another idea occurred to me.

"I'll tell Derek," I threatened.

"I'll withhold payment for the last trip if you do. And I would
remind you that it's a triple-sized payment for three separate
stops."

So that was how it was going to be. She knew all too well
that the money card worked with me, because she'd played it
before. And once again, my need for funds was railing against
my better judgment.

"I'm going," Jordin said, closing the book on the subject.
"Come with me, or don't."

Martha's Vineyard has been called the most haunted island in
the world, with dozens if not hundreds of scattered sightings.
Finding the one Jordin was investigating when she was abducted
wasn't going to be easy, and my best guess was thatJordin would
go after the most notorious places first. That was certainly her
M.O. when we were investigating together. She only wanted to
visit the places most likely to generate results.

Derek and I started with the most public spots we could
access, assuming Jordin would have done the same. We asked
around at shops, the post office, the police department, some
local churches. No one remembered seeing her, there were just too
many tourists fitting Jordin's description that visited the area.

After searching seven different locations, we retreated to the truck around nine o'clock to search for a place to stay for the
night.

Earlier in the day we had found much to talk about, but
now we had retreated into silence. Tired, hungry, and discouraged, I stared out of my side window, watching the quaint brick
sidewalks speed past.

"Stop the truck! Stop!" I shouted, sitting up ramrod-straight.

Derek slammed on the brakes in a panic, and the screech was
earsplitting. "What?!"

"Over there!" I pointed out my window. Something had
caught my eye. Something that shouldn't have been there.

"What? The graveyard?"

Instead of responding, I opened my door and got out of the
truck. I ran through an empty field toward the graveyard, my adrenaline surging. I was more sure of what I'd seen with every step.

Derek parked the pickup near the sidewalk and caught up
with me where I stopped. The graveyard was surrounded by a tall
iron fence, and the gate, which had doors that curved up on both
sides to form an arch, was the highest part of all. I grabbed the
iron bars and looked desperately through them, trying to see if
I could catch a glimpse of what I had seen again.

"Maia, what did you see?" Derek asked, panting for breath.
He stared at me instead of the graveyard, interested only in my
answer.

I glanced at him sidelong, wondering what I should say. The
edge of my vision had only caught the briefest of glimpses, from
a significant distance. There was no way to be completely certain,
and I didn't want to upset him.

"I saw a girl," I said.

Derek turned to the graveyard, fatigue filling his eyes. "I don't see anyone, Maia. The place is empty. Which isn't really surprising, since the sun's been down for two hours.... Your eyes are
playing tricks on you, you're just tired-"

"It was Jordin."

Derek stopped short and twisted his head in my direction
so fast I was afraid he would sprain his neck.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"No! I'm not sure at all!" I replied, drained and not wanting
to have to explain myself.

I couldn't tell him it was definitely Jordin. I had no proof,
and as tired as I was, it was entirely possible that my bleary eyes
were seeing things.

But I knew it. It was her. I don't know if it was some latent
paranormal investigator's instinct or if Jordin had pricked my
consciousness somehow to let me know beyond a doubt that she
was trying to get my attention. But I knew it was her.

"I think she was trying to get our attention," I explained.
"Maybe she wants to help us find the journal."

"Then where did she go?" Derek asked, examining the graveyard again, desperately looking for his love. "If she could appear
enough to get your attention, why couldn't she just stand there
and point out the journal's location to us?"

"It doesn't work that way," I said, still not in the mood to
give any lessons in the paranormal just now. "Ghosts that manifest visibly can rarely do it for very long. It's like it requires some
great exertion and they can't maintain it."

I could hear Derek breathing loudly as he considered this, still
studying the interior of the cemetery. "Where did you see her?"

I pointed through the bars. "Over there somewhere ... near
some of those big headstones in the back."

The grave markers I'd pointed out were in the far left corner
of the smallish cemetery.

"We need a way in," said Derek, and he was already scanning
the area around us, searching for a means of getting inside.

It wasn't going to be easy. The fence was topped all the way
around with black metal spikes. They didn't look sharp, but
they were more than nine feet in the air, so I couldn't imagine
a scenario where we might try to climb over them and not be
impaled, even if they were blunt.

Despite my misgivings, Derek tried to do that very thing.

There were only two horizontal bars, one near the top and one
near the bottom. They didn't provide much leverage, so Derek
actually tried to climb up the fence using nothing but his hands
gripping the vertical bars. It didn't go well. With the running he'd
just done a few minutes earlier and now the sudden urgency he
was feeling, his hands were too sweaty to get a solid grip.

Derek grunted with the effort, and the ensuing frustration.
"Okay, plan B," he growled, and turned to march back to his
truck.

My stomach churned. I had no idea what he had in mind,
but I assumed it would be something reckless. Exhaustion was
never a good companion of desperation.

I had turned back to study the interior of the cemetery once
more when I heard the engine of his truck start up behind me
in the distance.

When I turned to look, Derek had jumped the sidewalk
curb and the truck was plowing through the empty field headed
straight for me. My breath caught in my throat for a second but
then I collected my wits and jumped aside. Seconds later, his
truck battered straight through the huge iron gate, crashing the two doors wide open. He slammed on his brakes just in time to
avoid running into the nearest graves.

"What are you doing?!" I cried as he stepped out of the truck.

"I'm not a ghost hunter, Maia, and I'm out of my depth with
all this paranormal stuff. But I'm getting my fiancee back," he
declared. He grabbed a shovel out of the back of the truck and
started striding toward the back left corner of the graveyard.

I grabbed my flashlight out of the front seat and then had to
walk fast to keep up with him. "Do you know how illegal what
you're doing is?"

He threw me an ugly glance. "Do you know how much I don't
care? Somebody has taken my girlfriend and literally sucked her
soul out of her body. She needs my help, and if I ever want to
touch her, hold her, or kiss her ever again, I need that journal! If
I broke the stupid fence, I'm sure Jordin will gladly pay to have
it fixed or replaced once we get her back in her body, where she
belongs. Good grief, I can't believe I just said that."

Once again, I was seeing a new side of Derek. But I didn't
know what to make of this one. He was so rigid, so polite, so
straightlaced.... I wouldn't have thought he had a dangerous
or unpredictable cell in his body. The stress and exhaustion were
getting to him, stripping away his filters and boundaries.

"What's with the shovel?" I asked. "You think she buried it?"

"Makes sense, doesn't it?" he replied. "If she had time, if she
was being chased or something, she would have wanted to hide
it where it wouldn't be found."

It did make sense. Though in my mind, I'd always pictured
her being snatched without having a chance to make a run for
it. I don't know why; it was just how I thought about it.

"Maybe she was investigating here," I mused. It was an old graveyard; I saw dates on some of the tombstones going back
to the 1800s.

We reached the back corner and started our search.

"Why was all this so important tojordin?" Derek asked as he
grabbed the flashlight from me and scanned the graveyard.

I heard the pain in his question and part of me wanted to
tell him what I knew. But it wasn't my place.

"She was obsessed with the paranormal, Derek," I said, taking the flashlight back. "Obsession doesn't usually adhere to
logic." It was a cop-out answer, stating the obvious. I knew it.
But I couldn't think of anything else to say.

Derek stopped where he was, a few rows over from me. "Why
won't you tell me?!" he shouted. "I have a right to know!"

A beam of light lit up Derek where he stood, and I turned to
see that it was coming from a flashlight.

A policeman stood in the cemetery, less than twenty feet from
us, and he wasn't happy.

"You two partying a little too hard tonight?" the cop asked.
I figured it was probably the hundredth time he'd asked it to
kids our age.

"No, sir," I said. "No partying. We're looking for a friend."
It was kind of true.