River of Bones (4 page)

“Well,” I laughed nervously. “Looks like you have a big future ahead of you as a dog trainer.”

Wolf smirked at Scooter as he climbed onto the ATV. “He's got a mind of his own, kinda like me. Guess that's why I put up with him.”

He started the engine and Benny jumped in my arms. I hugged him against me as we took off, plowing through the weeds. By the time we reached the front porch, rain hammered down on our heads. I raced up the rickety front steps with Benny bouncing in my arms. Paint peeled from the giant columns of the sagging wraparound porch. Weathered porch swings wedged under the bay windows creaked, rocking back and forth in the wind. The massive front door sported a red coat of paint, now faded like a withered valentine.

“Weird. Who would paint a door that color?” I asked.

“Southern superstition.”

“What do you mean?”

“Red is supposed to ward off evil spirits.” Wolf selected a long screwdriver from his toolbox, jimmied the lock and pushed the door open. I took a step inside, carrying Benny on my hip, and cringed. Mildew crawled up my nostrils, making my sinuses scream. I didn't know which smelled worse, me or the old house.

“Hold on,” Wolf said. “I'll pry the boards off the windows. That'll give us more light and...um...fresh air.”

My cheeks burned. “Yeah, Good idea.” I wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment. If so, I expected the Grim Reaper to come swooping down at anytime and drag me into the shadowy underground, and if he had any sense at all, he'd be wearing nose plugs.

I sighed and spun in a semicircle, trying to make out the enormous foyer masked in darkness. Scooter pushed past me, his nails clicking across the old plank flooring.

“Geez dog, you're brave.”

The Boxer paused and looked back at me with big soulful eyes. He trotted to my side, whined and licked my hand before continuing on into the shadows—almost as if saying goodbye. Like, so long, lady—nice knowing you. I wondered if it was true what people said about dogs being psychic.

A loud screech of nails and wood pulling apart pierced the room. Benny let out a startled cry. “Shhhh, it's okay, Ben.” I pressed my lips to his head, watching muted daylight spill into the dingy entranceway.

Wolf waved at us through a dusty window, a board in his hand. Benny squealed and waved back. Wolf tossed the wood aside and continued ripping out the planks, flipping open the shutters. Rain drizzled over his head. He shook the moisture from his face and flashed a gleaming grin, his eyes bright. Playful.

Holy Adonis.

I stared, watching his muscles flex through his thin shirt, my insides dissolving like hot Jell-O. I quickly dropped my gaze. Who was I kidding? I knew I didn't have a chance with a guy like that.

I wandered through the foyer and into a large living room. Sheets covered the furniture like ghosts. Floral wallpaper, speckled with mold, clung to the walls. My nose tingled with the scent of old wood smoke and soot. Scanning the dingy room, I spotted the source of the smell. A yawning fireplace hugged a far wall, its gaping mouth smothered in cobwebs. Above the hearth, a marble mantle erupted in sinister looking cherubs. Their tiny blue eyes glared at me through a cloud of dust.

At the end of the room a hand-carved staircase spiraled into a graceful arch leading into more darkness, each step covered by a faded rose runner worn through at the front. I walked past a parlor filled with dusty books and more covered furniture, to a spacious kitchen. Grimy, nasty dish towels hung across the sink. Dead flies littered the oak floor. To the left, another arched doorway led into a massive dining room with towering sideboards and china thick with dust.

An antique painting of a family hung above another cavernous fireplace. A woman posed with two girls in high-waisted dresses, and a graying man stood behind them, wearing a blue suit, top hat and waistcoat. A gold plaque clung to the bottom of the frame.
Cobb family, 1812.
I cringed. If Mom's information was right, the painting must have been done shortly before they died.

Wolf strode into the room, a hammer clutched in his right hand. His big motorcycle boots thudded across the plank flooring. He paused, wiped his brow and pointed to an antique mirror on the wall, its glass painted black. “Looks like someone didn't like their reflection.”

I ran my fingers over the bumpy surface. “That's creepy…More southern superstition?”

Wolf shrugged. “Nothing I've ever heard of.”

I followed him out of the dining room into the kitchen. He unlocked the back door and pushed the screen open. “I'll head outside and see if I can find the switch for the water and electric.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said, smearing a clean spot in the window with the heel of my hand. Outside, in the gloomy evening light, Wolf struggled through the thick vines to get to the side of the house.

The rain faded and fog swirled around the bog in the distance, creeping through rows of cypress trees, disguising the landscape in a blinding haze of white. Through the choking fog, a dark figure crawled crablike from the water. I strained to see in the mist. Could a gator rise above the weeds like that? As I watched, it pushed itself upright—no, definitely not a gator.

I looked over to where Wolf had disappeared around the side of the house, my heart racing as a sick feeling settled into my gut. I cast a glance back to where I had seen the shape moving…

It was closer now! It had almost reached the house, shambling in an awkward way, as though it were not truly walking but moving in time with strings rather than muscles. Its head was bowed, with a matted rope hung around its neck, dripping with sludge. Muck and water dripped from the rotted garment hanging on its—no, her—body, as if her very insides were leaking the fluids dripping from her frame. A rag circled her head, saturated with muck, pulled slightly to the side, exposing a bare spot where her hair and ear should have been.

Paralyzing terror sawed through my spine.
Run! Move!
I stood rooted to the spot. Head still down, the figure raised a boney finger pointing at me, hobbling grotesquely toward the house.

Fear scrambled my thoughts. I had to warn Wolf! Adrenaline surged. I sprang into action, raising my hand to beat on the window, when something slammed into the back of my knees.

 

Scooter barreled past me, nearly knocking me off my feet. I clutched Benny to my chest.

“Watch it, dog!”

Scooter whined at the door.

“No way! You're not going out there.”

The dog scratched at the wood until his claws marred the surface. I grabbed his collar to pull him away. He curled his lips, snapped and growled. My fingers bounced off his teeth. I jerked my hand back, my pulse hammering. Scooter quickly turned and licked my arm in apology. I couldn't be mad at him, I knew his fury wasn't directed at me, but at whatever lurked outside.

Pressing my face against the window, I scanned every inch of the yard. Nothing. Whatever I'd seen had vanished as fast as it appeared. My heart squeezed tight with fear—unless it hid in the shadows, waiting.

Scooter pushed his head against my leg and whined again. Maybe I should let him out to protect Wolf…just in case.

“Okay, killer. You win. You're on your own, though.”

I reached for the doorknob, my knees shaking. The door opened to a sigh of the wind gusting through the cypress trees, sending long arms of moss dancing in the fog.

Scooter surged past, his nails digging into the wooden floor as he shot outside.

Wolf crashed out of the bushes from the side of the house. “Scooter, come back!” he yelled, chasing after the dog.

“Wolf, wait!” I had to warn him about the creature, but he ignored me, running into the night. Mosquitoes whined in my ears, buzzing at my face, sheltered from the rain under what was left of the eaves. Deep within the swamp, a bullfrog chorus croaked in baritone
, jug-of-rum, jug-of-rum
. A rustling came from the bushes beside the steps. A shard of fear cut off my breath like a guillotine. I turned to hurry inside, juggling Benny and reaching for the screen door, when a soggy hand shot out of the dark and gripped my shoulder. I wheeled around, the concrete step grinding into my heel and screamed.

In the gloomy light, a gnarled old man stood before me. He raised a lantern to his face. His lower lip drooped with plug tobacco, and a yellow stain trailed down the right side of his toothless mouth to his chin.

“Didn't mean to scare you. Just droppin' off supplies.”

“S-S-Supplies?”

He looked at me like I was the village idiot and nodded. “From Mr. Crawford.”

I thought for a moment. Mr. Crawford? Oh yeah, the sleazy real estate guy who, at this very moment, was probably screwing my stupid mother—she'd never learn.

“Oh, thanks,” I said.

“I'll stack the boxes on the front porch.” He glanced around, eyes wide. “Got to be getting back. Don't like being out here, after dark. Call me superstitious, but I never did like corpse candles.”

“Corpse candles?”

The old man frowned. “Haven't you ever heard about the ghost lights out here? Some claim they're caused by swamp gas, but I know folks who tried to follow those lights, only to be lured into darkness…and death.”

He set down the lantern, pulled the hood of his yellow slicker over his head and tied it securely under his scraggly chin. “Good thing you don't have any lights on.” The old man leaned forward, his breath stinking of booze. “It attracts the spirits of the dead.” He narrowed his mangy eyes and cackled before turning to leave.

I rushed inside the dark house and held the door open only long enough to see the light from his lantern disappear into the night. Shivering, I hugged Benny and thought about the creature I'd seen. What was it?

The screen door banged open, I jumped as Wolf hurried inside, then caught myself smiling. Thank goodness he was alive!

“There's some creeper unloading stuff on the porch—do you know him?” Wolf asked.

“Yeah, I mean no. He's just dropping off some supplies. Did you find Scooter?”

Wolf nodded. “What got into him? He was all freaked out.”

“I'm not sure. I thought I saw something crawl out of the swamp, then Scooter wigged out, clawing at the door. Not sure if he wanted out to protect you or if he didn't like being inside.” I held Benny tighter and looked around. “Not that I'd blame him for wanting out of here.”

“No doubt. This place reminds me of some old horror movie.” He reached over and flipped on the kitchen lights. They flickered, then held a steady, dim glow. “Maybe you saw a raccoon or wild boar that got stuck in the mud.”

I shook my head. “I don't know what it was. You didn't see anything strange outside?”

“Other than the Lantern Dude, no. Are you feeling okay?”

“I nodded.” Great, he must've thought I was a total psycho by now. “Did you get the water turned on?” I asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Yep, give the electric a half hour or so and the water in the tank ought to be hot enough for a bath.” Wolf walked to the kitchen sink and turned on the tap. A hiss sounded, pipes rattled and banged. Finally, a stream of brown liquid burst from the nozzle. “You'll have to let it run awhile.”

A door I hadn't noticed before stood to the left of the sink. A pantry? Or better yet, a bathroom? I couldn't
wait
to wash the stink off me.

Wolf glanced at his watch. “I better run. My mom is having a piano recital for her students and I promised to help. Sure hate to leave you alone out here, but duty calls.” He handed me the flashlight. “Take this in case the lights go out, and I'll pack the boxes of supplies in.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

Wolf jogged outside as I entered the living room and flipped on the lights. A dirty glow spilled over the room. Shrill whispers echoed in every dark corner. Standing stiff, feet frozen to the floor, I cocked my head and tried to make out the unnatural sounds. Was it the wind? Or something else? I shuddered, remembering what the old man had said about the ghost lights. He was obviously mental. A total drunk. Even so, his words burned into my brain.