Microsoft word winterb.., p.42
Microsoft Word - Winterborn_final-ADRoland, page 42
Oh. Right. Sean.
“Why can’t we just drive there?” she asked, eyeing the dark space below her feet. Darien’s hand
swam up out of the darkness and beckoned her down.
“This way is a little quicker, and neither you nor I are on the guest list. Security would bounce us.
If you want to go to the Estate, this is the way.”
Tam sat on the edge and gripped the rough boards. “You just like drama. You do realize the Estate
is a quarter of a mile away. We could drive there in three minutes.”
“Just come on.” He beckoned again.
Tam braced herself for impact and slid off the edge. She thumped to the ground, missing Darien’s
groping hands. Her forehead bounced off his knees. He danced away, hissing, cursing, trying to rub
his knee. Tam hunkered down, furiously rubbing her head.
“You all right?” Darien asked, reappearing from the incredible blackness of the tunnel.
“Yeah, sure.”
A light clicked on, a dusty battery-operated lantern with a blinding LED bulb. “Let’s go, then.”
Tam used the walk to plan ahead, even though she didn't have the faintest clue what would
happen on the other end. She had to keep this guy thinking she intended to play along with his game,
until she figured out the next step. “Darien.”
“Yep?”
“I’m still not entirely sure why you need me.”
He lifted up a lantern and shone it in her face. She blinked and looked away. The bright LED bulb
left afterimages burned into her retinas. Blinking made it worse. The brief moment of helplessness
gave way to a tinge of anger. She took a deep breath. Freaking out and blowing her top wouldn’t save
Sean.
“You’re a very special woman, Tamsyn. You have the potential to be the one who can speak
directly to the spirits of Wraithborne. Maman can’t do it anymore.” Darien shrugged. “It's about
power, more than anything. Without a medium, we can’t hear them and they can’t hear us. When the
medium weakens, chaos tends to erupt around the Estate.”
“I don't understand your theology, Darien.”
“It's interpretive, I suppose. The simplest way I can explain it is I give something to the spirits,
and they give me what I want. We can’t understand each other without a medium. ”
“You're a Satanist, then? How 1970's.”
“Quit being so glib, Tam. The spirits don't like disrespect. Unlike your God, they aren't ones of
love and peace and meekness.”
Tam rolled her eyes heavenward. Hear that, God? It’d be really kick-butt awesome if you showed
him just how meek you are. She sighed. Can’t taunt God into saving me… She glanced upwards one more time. So if it’s cool and all, a little bit of help would be awesome. I really don’t want to die here.
Darien kept blabbing. “Mine won't hesitate to tear you limb from limb and feast on your insides.
And no, we don't worship Satan. Satan is just a frame of mind, a creation of the Christian dictatorship.
We serve the spirits who are among us, the ghosts in the machine, if you will. We grease the wheels of
the mechanism, and they give us what we want.”
“So they're like great big candy machines? What happens when that dollar you slip in is a little too
old and wrinkled?”
“There's something in everyone that they want. In you, I think it's your bitterness. Your anger.
You carry your hurts around with you like a backpack. You’re stubborn and even when you’re
terrified, you stay strong.” He pointed out a deep rut in the tunnel, waited until she stepped over it.
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“That’s why they want you. That demon you keep talking about being born, I think it's symbolic of
the new you that will be born this evening. You're incredibly sensitive, spiritually speaking.”
Tam fell silent, thinking. How do I get out of this? Just play along?
She held back when it really mattered. And she knew it, too. Her anger and resentment covered
her like a shroud. “Why do you need Sean?”
“The spirits want him. Sharla made a deal with them.”
Tam groaned. “You’re all psycho.”
“You throw that word around a lot.”
“Blanket description of the people I seem to attract.” Light glowed a few dozen yards down the
tunnel. Voices echoed softly. Darien pointed.
“We’re almost there. No matter what you see, stay calm.”
“That’s so comforting.”
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Chapter Thirty-Two
Fear made her shivery inside, weak and longing for something physical, stable, to hold on to.
Keep it together; you’ve done great so far. You haven’t freaked out yet.
Movement in the far corner captured her attention. “Sean!” She padded barefoot across the small
room and dropped to her knees next to her husband, straddling one of his outstretched legs. A crazy
wave of compassion and affection crested in her heart. “Sean?” Despite the hell he put her through
she didn’t want him to get hurt.
Darien took a step closer. “This is his fault. If he hadn’t dragged you to this crappy little town and
insisted you live here so he could raise his bastard son, we wouldn’t have discovered you.”
She ignored him. Though Sean was propped up in the corner, eyes open, his mouth hung slack
and he breathed heavily, like he did when he slept. “Sean, look at me.”
Obediently, his dry, blood-shot eyes shifted to her face. She didn't like that look in his eyes, that
blank stare. “Are you all right?”
His mouth closed then fell open again. He moaned, so softly she barely heard him.
Darien pulled her to her feet. “See, he’s fine. We have a few minutes until Maman Estrella gets
here. She needs to…talk to you.”
“What did you do to Sean?”
“Me? Nothing I've been with you the whole time.”
“Duh, Darien. I mean, what happened to him?”
“You are aware that I'm not the only person involved, aren’t you? There's any number of things
anybody could have done. I’m only interested in getting you. Whatever happens to him is between Maman and the spirits.” He raised his right eyebrow. “But since I know you're going to insist on
answers, Kevin drugged him.”
“Kevin?”
He mocked her. “Yes, Kevin. He's quite the little foot soldier. His mommy trained him well.”
“Oh God...” Tam pressed her forehead against Sean's shoulder.
A creaky voice, so old and papery it sounded like rustling, dry leaves, spoke. “God ain't here. God
done been run off, and ain't nothing bringing him back here.”
The figure that shuffled in, with Kevin padding at its side like a puppy, barely resembled a human.
More corpse-like than anything, it kept coming, one tiny shuffling step at a time, until it stood at
Sean's feet. Sean's face turned up and a strangled sound leaked out. His muscles tensed and he
shuddered.
“Go away,” Tam growled. “You're scaring him.”
“You ain't scared?” The words were low, almost sensual, and laced with humor.
“Of you? No.” Tam knelt next to Sean and looped her arm through his. She stared into the milky-
white, crusted-over eyes of the hag before her. The ancient woman's loose, wrinkled skin twitched and
pulsated, as if beneath the layer of flesh something yearned for freedom.
Tam felt sick, but she couldn't turn away. “Ugh,” she whispered, fighting back the urge to look
away. Show no weakness. The woman flinched. Tam wanted to grin triumphantly, but something
held her in check.
“She the one.” The old hag leaned closer, her jowls twitching in a freakish facsimile of a smile.
An aura of evil thick as syrup wrapped around the woman. Evil swam in the currents, the result of
generations of lost souls seeking the things they should not. Darkness infested the woman like
parasites.
Tam's confidence waned in the face of the impossible. How could this woman be alive, after so
long, so many years? Where the forces that worked her bones and muscles and nerves that strong?
And how could she, Tam, fight something so old, so saturated with real, breathing evil?
“Kevin, why?” Tam asked. She stared the boy full in the eyes. “Why do you want to hurt your
daddy?”
“He gave me away. He never wanted me. That's not what a dad does.” The kid moved even closer
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to the foul-smelling hag. “My mom wants him here. She's waiting.”
“Your mother is dead, Kevin.”
“No!”
Tam turned her gaze to the hag. “Tell him,” she challenged. “Tell him his mother is dead.”
The thick folds of dark, putrescent flesh around the hag's mouth twisted. Tam realized with a
shudder of revulsion that she was trying to smile.
“She's alive!” Kevin exclaimed
“Your mama feeds the worms, boy,” the hag snarled, batting Kevin aside. He rolled across the
room. Darien pulled him to his feet.
“What?” he said. “What's that mean?”
Darien knelt on one knee. “Your mom is gone, kid. She really did die.”
“But she's here! You said she's here, Darien.”
“Her body is, kiddo.”
Tam made a face. “You brought her body here?”
Kevin shrieked at the top of his lungs and stomped his feet. He threw himself at the wall and
battered it with his bony little fists until dark splotches of blood blossomed. “You promised we would
be together! Me and my mom and my dad. You lied!”
Darien grabbed him and held him in a tight headlock. “No, we didn't. And you're going to be
together, tonight.”
Kevin coughed and writhed. Tam understood. “You're going to kill him. And Sean.”
“That's such a harsh word.”
“But it's what you intend to do.”
Darien winked. “Not me.” He let the kid go.
Kevin shook his head. “I don’t believe you. My mom is stronger than you, Darien! You just wanted
her power. You can't hurt me. They talk to me, too. I have their words, Darien, just like you do.” He
pulled a wrinkled sheet of notebook paper out of his back pocket and waved it around. “My mom gave
them to me and said they would protect me and keep us together. I have all of them and I hid them
from you, like my mom said. She said I couldn’t trust you!”
Darien plucked the paper out of his hand. “This? Kid, this is a fertility spell your grandpa gave
her. Your mom gave you this one? Did she tell you to say it every day?”
“You can't make him kill his father!” Tam sprang to her feet. “You are absolutely insane, Darien.
You and everybody here! The kid is emotionally damaged because of all this crap.”
“He’s not going to kill Sean either. Now sit down and shut up.” Darien advanced on her. “That
spell wasn’t for him, obviously. Are you pregnant, Tamsyn?”
The book. The bag.
Impulse sang through her blood. She shrugged the strap off her shoulder, wrapped her hands in
it, and swung with all her strength. She braced her feet for impact. The awkward weight smashed
Darien full in the face and knocked him into the wall, and the momentum slung her around almost in
a circle. The fabric rasped over her wounded hands.
Darien slumped to the floor, dazed, one hand going to the back of his head.
The old hag started chanting. The tone of her voice went deeper and deeper, until the sounds that
came out of her mouth were unnatural, so frightening the hair on the back of Tam's neck stood on
end.
Things swirled in the shadows, the little dragons made of darkness. They launched themselves at
Tam, jaws snapping. Sean made a startled, weak sound. They rushed from the old woman's mouth,
more and more until they formed a thick, writhing carpet on the floor.
Tam swung the bag once more. It smashed against the hag's face and knocked her off her feet. She
rolled into the shadows and…vanished.
Tam stared at the spot for a moment, expecting a trick. Darien grunted a curse and tried to get his
legs to cooperate.
I hope I gave him brain damage.
Tam hollered at Sean to get up. He did, slowly, hanging on to the wall. She grabbed his hand and
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ran for the door. Darien groaned and cursed. Tam made it out the door and two steps down before
she realized Sean wasn't behind her any longer.
Had he ever been?
Tam flicked her hair out of her face. Now wasn't the time to mourn the past, to question it, or
otherwise.
The door swung open and she saw Kevin bolt out, aimed at her like a missile. He crashed into
her—hard. Her head smacked the wall. Bright stars exploded in her field of vision.
Kevin snarled and growled like a wild animal, tearing at her shirt and her skin. His clawing
fingers ripped at the bandages on her arms. His weight plus the struggle of keeping her balance on the
narrow stairs proved too much for her.
One unfortunate misstep combined with the psychotic monster clinging to her chest and trying
his damnedest to bite off her nose, Tam fell.
She made sure Kevin went down with her.
****
The fog lifted from his mind slowly.
He remembered things. Tam. Was it Tam? Wearing a gown, sitting next to him, touching his face.
The old woman screaming black smoke that burned and pricked his skin.
Had it been Tam that knelt over him?
He couldn't see a face. Just a curvy shape, a long, silky gown. He recalled the glide of the fabric
through his fingers, the way it felt, warmed by flesh and dampened with sweat. He got tangled in the
laces on the sides.
No, she tied him up with the thin strings.
She?
Sharla. Oh yeah, of course. Tam would never wear something that sexy, that feminine. Not even to
make him happy. Tam didn't care that he was happy.
But Sharla did.
She wore that gown for him. He kept it hidden from Tam. When she left, he pulled it out one night
and tried to imagine what his wife would look like in it.
Her face turned into Sharla's, as always.
No, it hadn’t been Tam. He recalled the star on her chest, the scruff of stiff blue jeans.
Kevin's face swam into focus. “Sean? Are you okay?”
“Kevin?” Pain thudded at his temples. Sean rubbed his face. His eyes ached. “Where am I?”
“The Estate. It's almost time for the party.”
Sean frowned. Why was Kevin here? “You're supposed to be at your grandparents.”
“It's okay. They brought me. They're downstairs now. Everybody is waiting for you.”
“Why? How did I get in here?”
Kevin pounced around the room, from wall to wall, madly. “Mr. Jambo's powder. I put it in your
soda. You went all zombie and I brought you here to wait for the right time.”
Sean gaped at the kid. No way that was true. The kid was psycho, but... that psycho? Crazy enough to drug him? “What did you make me drink? Holy crap, Kev, don't you know that's a crime? You can't
go around drugging people! You could have killed me.”
Kevin shook his head. “Mr. Jambo gave me the right amount. He's never done it wrong. He taught
me how to do it, too. It's finally time, Sean. Finally time for Mom to come back. Tonight's the night.”
Sean rubbed his eyes again. No, not this again. “You stopped taking your medication. Do you see
why it's so important for you to stay on the meds? You drugged me and...How did you get me here?”
“Grandpa said there wasn't anything wrong with me. He threw the pills away. And you walked.
It's like zombie powder. You have to do what I say until it wears off.”
The kid bounced around the tiny, square room. Sean groaned and used the wall to pull himself to
his feet. His head spun. Nausea rose in his gullet. The most vile taste he'd ever experienced flooded his throat. He swallowed hard, trying to force the taste away. “Kevin, where are we?”
“Secret room. West wing. Third floor.”
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The words had a physical affect on Sean. Each phrase seemed to drive a fist into his gut harder
and harder. He sucked in oxygen, struggling hard not to vomit.
West wing. Third floor.
Third floor. Where Sharla said she suffered.
Where all his nightmares took place.
Where...he would die.
“We have to get out of here, Kevin.” I won't die here. Though his knees wobbled and he had to
fight his rising panic for a decent breath, he took Kevin's cold hand. The kid didn't fight him.
Making his legs move took all his energy, all his concentration. Every step became a little easier,
but he couldn’t shake the funny buzzing sensation that crawled up his legs to his pelvis.
The narrow, dark stairs tightened Sean's chest and escalated his sense of dread. He hung on to the
wall, wishing for a handrail, and forced his stiff, numb legs to lift, bend, support him.
I smell Tam. The scent of her body wash clung to her for hours after a shower. Kevin urged him
down the stairs. “Come on, Sean. This way.”
At the foot of the stairs, Kevin slid aside a flat panel. A single battery-powered lantern sat on the
