The Haunted (5 page)

“
Definitely. What time?”

“
Eight or nine. His band is playing at ten, so make sure you’re there by then.”

“
I wouldn’t miss it. Thanks.” He glanced at me. “You’ll be there, right?”

I was encouraged that he had asked me first about the game and now about Milo’s party. “I’ll be there.”

I remembered the last party at Milo’s—how Laria had been there, terrorizing me, touching Shane, and how Ian had saved the day. I no longer had Ian, but I did have a friend in Kade. I felt comforted by him, the familiarity whenever we were together, and I also had my friends. They would be there for me. I knew it.

***

After school, I had Megan drop me off at the end of Anne Marie’s driveway.

There was a newspaper in the middle of the gravel drive, and as I picked it up, I could hear Diggs, Anne Marie’s dog, barking.

I walked up the steps and knocked on the door. To the right, the steel mailbox was crammed full of mail.

My stomach tightened in a knot. I didn’t know Anne Marie all that well, but what I did know about her, she didn’t come across as the kind to let her mailbox overflow…or ignore phone calls from her friends.

Miss Akin hadn’t mentioned anything about Anne Marie leaving town. Plus, she’d never leave Diggs.

I rang the doorbell and heard barking again.

At first there was nothing but silence, and then I heard movement in the house. I waited for a minute, then another, surprised when she didn’t answer.

I rang the doorbell again and finally looked through the front window. Nothing seemed out of place. The small living room appeared just as I remembered it—cluttered and lived in, even down to the teacup sitting on the side table next to the rocker Anne Marie had sat in when I’d last visited her.

Maybe she was just taking a nap, I thought to myself. But wouldn’t she wake up to the doorbell and to Digg’s barking?

In my peripheral vision I saw what looked like someone standing in the entryway near the front door but in the shadows. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. It could be Anne Marie, but why would she hide and not say anything?

“
Anne Marie, it’s me—Riley.”

I felt a sudden pressure in my chest, and had the unmistakable feeling that something was very wrong. Maybe the person hiding wasn’t Anne Marie at all. What if it was a robber…or a spirit?

A part of me wanted to break down the door, and the other wanted to run and never look back.

“
Can I help you?”

I gasped and whipped around to find a man wearing coveralls standing on the first step. He had a crowbar clenched tight in his fist.

“
Um—I’m looking for Anne Marie.”

“
She’s gone to visit her daughter.”

“
She left Diggs?”

“
Of course not,” he said, looking at me like I was crazy to even suggest such a thing. “She’d never leave Diggs behind. That dog is like one of her kids.”

“
Maybe I was just hearing things.”

“
Could be you were hearing one of my mutts.” He pointed to an old stone cottage that was barely visible through the trees. “I have five.”

That would explain the barking…if it hadn’t have sounded like it was coming from inside the house. I was tempted to mention the figure standing in the entry, but decided against it.

“
She’ll be returning on the twenty-sixth.”

Damn, the twenty-sixth was weeks away.

I heard a bark from inside the house again. Apparently the man heard it, too, because he frowned, his gaze shifting from me to the door and back again. “I’ve got a key in case of emergencies.”

He pulled out a key chain with about twenty odd keys on it. After three tries, he finally found the right one and the door opened.

“
Anne Marie?” he called cautiously. “Anne Marie, are you here? Diggs?”

Nothing. No bark, no scuffle, nothing.

In the kitchen there was a partially full teacup on the counter, and a spoon sitting beside a fly-covered scone. In the sink there were pots, pans and dirty dishes.

Anne Marie’s house had been tidy the last time I’d been here. If she had known she was leaving for a while, then why hadn’t she taken the time to at least wash her dishes?

It seemed out of character. The man cracked open a window and swatted at the flies. I walked down the hallway, past a bedroom set up as an office, a bathroom with pink tiles, and the master bedroom…where the bed was unmade.

Okay, now I was really getting nervous.

“
When did you say she left?” I asked, heading back to the kitchen.

“
Few days ago,” he said, pulling off his hat and scratching his bald head. “I saw her walk to her car with a suitcase and Diggs. Normally she’ll tell me ahead of time if she’s going somewhere, so I was surprised she hadn’t said anything to me.”

“
Miss Akin, our housekeeper, said Anne Marie hasn’t been feeling well.”

His eyes lit up. “You’re the American girl who lives at the inn?”

“
That would be me.”

“
Anne Marie mentioned you once or twice.” He checked the garbage under the sink, pulled the liner out and tied the top. “I’ve heard stories of that place.”

Even the way he said “that place” sounded ominous. “What kind of stories?”

It seemed most every place in Braemar was haunted, even Anne Marie’s. A shiver rushed up my spine.

He shrugged. “You know…all old buildings have stories.”

My cell rang, signaling that I had a text. “Speak of the devil—it’s Miss Akin,” I told him. “It’s time for me to get home.”

The old man shifted on his feet. “Will you tell her Harry said hello?” I swore his cheeks turned pink.

“
Sure,” I said, walking toward the front door. “Harry, will you let me know if you hear anything from Anne Marie?”

“
Aye, lass, I certainly will.”

***

I pulled out Laria’s journal from between my mattress. I had read the spell that had bound Ian to the land so many times when Ian had still been here, I could probably recite it word for word. Regardless, I read it again, aloud, and wondering where I had gone wrong.

I fished under my bed for the other books on witchcraft and spent the next hour trying to find out what I could about breaking spells. It was tough—because spells were specific to the person creating it.

Then it dawned on me—what if Laria’s return didn’t have to do with the curse at all? What if it was me she wanted revenge on now that Ian was gone?

Miss Akin called me down for dinner. She had been quiet since I’d told her that Anne Marie had left for her daughter’s house. I couldn’t help but feel partly responsible for the drama happening in Anne Marie’s life. After all, she’d started acting weird after the séance where Laria had made her appearance. She’d told me herself when I’d visited her last that Laria was visiting her on a daily basis, and even invading her dreams.

Shane came down to dinner after being called for the third time. The back of his hair stood up straight, so I took it he’d been sleeping. Miss Akin asked him about practice and he just shrugged.

She cleared her throat. “Coach Everson called and said you were in a fight.”

I turned to Shane. “With who?”

He took a deep breath, released it. “Calvin Eckhart. Trust me, he had it coming. He’s a prick.”

“
Shane,” Miss A said, looking like he’d slapped her. “Watch your mouth or I will wash it out with soap.”

“
Sorry,” he replied, cutting his spaghetti with his fork. “A person can only take so much sh—crap before they snap. He’s always running his mouth.”

Calvin Eckhart? The name didn’t ring a bell.

“
He was sent home too,” he said, like that made all the difference.

Miss Akin sighed heavily. “Your dad wouldn’t—”

“
He called Joni a few choice names and I didn’t like it. When he didn’t stop, I clocked him.”

At least he’d gotten in trouble sticking up for Joni.

He set his fork down. “Please don’t tell Dad about it. We were just sent home early from practice. I mean, we weren’t suspended or anything.”

“
Speaking of Dad—did he call?” I asked Miss Akin, intent on changing the discussion.

“
Not yet.”

“
He’s seeing a woman,” Shane said matter-of-factly. “Why else would he be spending so much time away from home?”

“
No, he’s not.” The very thought of Dad dating horrified me.

“
Let’s not start speculating,” Miss Akin said, looking uncomfortable. “I’m sure your father would tell you if he was seeing someone.”

Shane snorted and lifted the glass of milk to his lips.

I thought back over the weeks since we’d been in Braemar and how Dad had almost immediately set out for Edinburgh. I know his company headquarters was there, but the reason he’d bought the inn, or so he’d said, was so he could work from home in peace and quiet. But that had been when we’d still lived in Portland.

I couldn’t help but wonder if Shane was right. If Dad had a girlfriend, I don’t know what I’d do. I ran a hand through my hair. As if I already didn’t have enough to worry about.

Chapter
7

The following day in first period I felt the familiar sensation of being watched. When the teacher gave us time to read for the better part of the hour, I instead focused on spirits.

Minutes in, I heard a sigh come from behind me.

I straightened my spine. I didn’t know if it was another student, or if I was hearing a ghost. I figured the latter when cold air worked its way up my legs.

“
You’re the girl who helped Ian.”

I glanced to my right. Ronald Delano, a boy with flatironed hair, rolled his pencil between his thumb and forefinger while he read the textbook. Sensing my gaze, he looked at me, or rather my boobs, and blushed before he turned his attention back to his book.

“
Over here, by the map.”

I glanced toward the map and saw a boy with short, sandy blonde hair sitting on a table where all the research books were kept. Dressed in dark shorts, suspenders and a white shirt, it was obvious he wasn’t from my time.

“
What are you doing?”
he asked me telepathically.

“
Um, what are
you
doing?”
I thought.

He slipped off the desk and walked past the teacher, touching the edge of each as he approached me.

“
I’m talking to you.”

Little smart-ass.
“What’s your name?”
I asked, elation racing through me. I was talking to a spirit—a benevolent spirit from what I could tell.

“
Peter.”

“
Is this where you live?”

“
More or less.”

Was he trying to be evasive?

“
How long have you been dead?”

He glanced at the calendar on the wall and pursed his lips together.
“Ninety-two years, four months, six days…in your time.”

There it was again—that mention of time
. “In my time. What does that mean exactly?”
I asked, curious for an explanation.

“
You think of time as being in a straight line with a beginning, a middle, and an end.”

“
It’s not?”

He laughed, or actually giggled, the sound making me smile. “No, time is an illusion.”

I wished he’d expand on the time explanation a bit, but he didn’t. Instead, he acted like a typical ten-or-so-year-old boy and flicked Ronald’s textbook.

Ronald frowned, shot me a strange look, and I pretended to be interested in what I was reading.

“
Actually, I’m eleven.”

“
Hey, I was close. I’m curious…how come you didn’t move on? I mean, why stay here?”

He fidgeted, pulling the zipper on my backpack.
“I didn’t want to leave my family.”

Given how long he’d been earthbound, I had to believe all of his family had all passed on by now. At least those he had known in his lifetime.
“What do you do to pass the time?”

He shrugged.
“Lots of things. That’s why I like school so much. There is so much to see and do. Plus, I like driving the teachers a bit mad. Moving objects here and there. Mrs. Abernathy gets especially freaked out, probably because she is sensitive...like you.”

My pulse leapt. Mrs. Abernathy, the art teacher, was a sensitive?

Throughout Science, Peter stayed close by, and even served as comic relief. He rattled off the answers to the questions of a surprise quiz. I felt a little guilty when I got one hundred percent right, but who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I even caught him staring at Cait a few times. I suspected he had a little crush.

In Mrs. Abernathy’s art class, I watched her closely. Whenever Peter would step near her, she would tilt her head to the side and lose her concentration.