Dead Spots (30 page)

Taking a sharp step to one side, Dawn swiveled about to look at Grace. “What did you say?”

“You're mine,” Grace answered sweetly. “You're my best friend.”

Uncertainty flitted over Dawn's face. “Is that what you really meant?”

Grace slurped her milk, giggling.

“Mackenzie doesn't know what she's talking about!” Brian violently shoved Grant aside and rushed down the stairs.

“I think she does!” Ted darted onto the steps to head off Brian. Wedging his body between Mackenzie and Brian, Ted stared into the eyes of his companion. “You knew Grace is a wraith and you didn't say anything because you know that Dawn will stick with her if the group splits. Then you'd have her all to yourself!”

“That's not how it is!” Spittle flew from Brian's lips and his face was a deep crimson. “I didn't know at first! I just figured it out!”

Jared appeared at the top of the stairs wrapped in towels, soapsuds still clinging to his arms and upper body. “What the hell is going on?”

“Grace is a wraith and Brian knew about it!” Ted's voice was sharp and violence loomed in his eyes.

“Mutha fucker,” Jared growled.

Ted didn't correct his language. “Did you want the group to split? Were Jared and I maybe getting too close to the truth? Were you afraid Dawn would come with us and not you if she knew what you've been doing?”

Brian glowered at the man on the step below him, his eyes narrowing. “I'm not answering your bullshit questions. Who the hell made you the boss anyway?”

Holding on to the rail, Mackenzie locked gazes with Grace, who continued to happily slurp her chocolate milk. Dawn lifted her face to watch the argument on the stairs while gradually easing around Grace. Smirking, Grace finished the milk. Still locking eyes with Mackenzie, she held out her empty glass.

“Could you get me more? I'm
hungry,
” Grace said. Her eyes were completely black, flat, and sharklike.

Fear poured into Mackenzie like ice water. It filled her up, drowning her in its frigid depths. Trembling violently, she could barely stand. The arguing men on the stairs were foolishly ignoring the dangerous creature below them. Jared's voice increased several volumes while Grant's neutral tones urged calm.

“I will not calm down!” Jared shouted. “This fuckin' moron knew all along—”

Grace extended her hand, her eyes firmly on Mackenzie, and deliberately unfurled her fingers.

“Dawn,” Mackenzie said, her voice cracking. “Run!”

The glass shattered on the floor.

As she dove for the stairs, Dawn's wide eyes reflected Mackenzie's own terror.

“Mine!” Grace roared. Her small frame leaped into action, her arms locking around Dawn's waist, driving her brutally onto the staircase.

Scrabbling at the steps, Dawn attempted to crawl out from under the smaller woman. “Help me!”

Mackenzie managed to snag the teenager's hand and tried to pull her free.

“She's mine!” Grace screeched.

Terror filled Dawn's eyes when Grace tore her from Mackenzie's grasp. Grace flipped the screaming girl over and buried her face in her chest.

“No, Grace!” Brian shrieked. “No!”

Ted wrapped one arm around Mackenzie's waist, swiveled around, and thrust her in Grant's direction as Brian bolted past them. Dawn's shrieks and Grace's inhuman growls sent Mackenzie scrambling, her battered feet and bruised hip protesting every step.

“Barricade the top of the stairs!” Grant shouted.

“We can't leave them with her!” Jared protested.

Below, Ted's shouts mingled with Brian's cries of despair. As Mackenzie neared the top of the stairs, she realized she didn't hear Dawn screaming anymore. Unable to stop herself, Mackenzie dared to peek. Dawn lay lifeless on the stairs, her throat and chest a bloody ruin. Brian sobbed over her body while Ted fought with Grace. The small woman was drenched in blood, her mouth a gaping maw filled with shark teeth. Lunging forward, she snapped at Ted's face.

Mackenzie felt a scream building up from deep within her, but it strangled in her throat. Grace's fearsome mouth closed on Ted's throat and a geyser of blood rained on Brian. With a swift jerk of her head, Grace ripped Ted's head from his shoulders. Sobbing, Brian rocked Dawn's body, his face buried in her hair. Though he seemed to be speaking words, they were jumbled and drowned out by Jared's cries. Tearing past Mackenzie, Jared launched himself over the railing toward Grace. Appearing more inhuman than ever, the shark-eyed woman whipped her head to one side, hurtling Ted's head into the living room.

“Mackenzie!”

Grant's voice compelled her into motion. Flinching with each step, Mackenzie hurried to mount the last steps.

“You're all mine!” Grace screeched. “Not his, mine!”

The sound of cracking timbers and splintering wood was the only warning, then the roof sheared off and flew away. Dust filled the roaring wind that howled into the broken house as the staircase lurched, the walls shook, and Mackenzie crashed onto the top of the staircase. Crawling up the last steps, she rolled onto the second floor. Grant helped her to her feet and together they fled through the long hallway. The wind churning through the house battered them against the walls and tripped them onto the floor. Through the gaping space above them, Mackenzie briefly caught glimpses of the cloudy night and full moon, but something black as obsidian and moving on many legs obscured her view.

“Help me!” Brian cried out, his voice barely discernible over the roar of the wind that washed over them like raging water.

Mackenzie glanced over her shoulder and saw his blood-soaked figure crest the stairs. His agonized expression and fear-filled eyes almost made her feel sorry for him, but then she remembered that he was the cause of all the destruction around her. Grant flung Mackenzie against the wall and pressed his body over hers seconds before an enormous wickedly barbed armored claw slashed through the hallway and speared Brian through the chest. His face slackened with shock and pain, and then he was hoisted into the night sky.

“Where do we go?” Mackenzie screamed over the furor.

Grant jerked a door open and gruffly flung her into a closet filled with blankets and pillows. The ceiling was still intact, giving the space a tomblike aura.

Grant cradled her face in his hands and kissed her fiercely. “I won't let her have you! You don't belong to her!” Releasing Mackenzie, Grant banged the door shut, leaving her in absolute darkness.

When the knob wouldn't budge, Mackenzie beat her hands on the door. The inky blackness of the closet enshrouded Mackenzie. There was no light and her fingers clawed at the lock, trying to find a way out. Though the sounds from outside terrified her, the thought of being trapped in a collapsing house was even more frightening. “Let me out!”

The door opened revealing Loretta in a nightgown and robe that matched the ones Mackenzie was wearing. Without a word, Loretta extended her hand and Mackenzie gripped it gratefully. Together, the women scurried along the bucking hallway, avoiding the debris flying through the air. The woman created from the memory of the house guided Mackenzie through a smaller hall and to a narrow door. Pulling it open, Loretta dragged Mackenzie inside. A very narrow staircase led downstairs.

“Where does it go?” Mackenzie asked.

“The kitchen,” Loretta answered.

The house shuddered again. An excruciatingly high screech sent flashes of pain through Mackenzie's head. The former homeowner tugged on Mackenzie's hand, urging her to follow her down the steep and narrow stairway. Grimacing, Mackenzie complied. She had no other choice than to run away before Grace and the creatures she had summoned ripped the house apart.

The staircase opened into the back of the pantry. The door was cracked and hung from a single hinge. Beyond the doorway, the kitchen was littered with broken dishes and collapsed cabinets. The breakfast table and chairs were scattered across the floor. Water spewed out of broken pipes and the socks Mackenzie was wearing were instantly soaked with water.

“Get out of the house and run out of the dead spot. It's going to be dangerous out in the nightmare world, but it's worse inside the dead spot with the wraith controlling it,” Loretta said, hauling Mackenzie to the rear door. She grabbed a carving knife off the floor and handed it to Mackenzie. “Just keep running until you find another dead spot. Secure it and don't let anyone in.”

“Loretta, I can't just leave you—”

“I'm not real,” Loretta said firmly. “I'm just a memory.”

“Grant is fighting Grace. He needs me—”

Wrenching open the door to the outside, Loretta adamantly shook her head. “You need to go now!”

The floor violently shook beneath Mackenzie's feet and the windows exploded, littering the room with shards of glass. Taking hold of Mackenzie's shoulders, Loretta shoved her onto the porch.

Clenching the knife, Mackenzie hurried down the steps to the backyard. Her wet socks and bandages squelched into the damp earth and she winced. She stole one last look at the house as she hurried away and saw Loretta standing in the doorway watching her. Seconds later, the house shuddered and collapsed, returning to the same state she had found it in hours before.

Half-limping, half-running, Mackenzie hurried through the backyard, crawled over a broken fence, and headed toward the trees in the distance. The howl of the wind accompanied the growl of a great beast, sending Mackenzie's heart into spasms. Pressing one hand to her chest, she concentrated on her breathing. She felt dizzy and faint, but she refused to pass out.

If not for the moonlight sifting through the clouds above, Mackenzie never would have seen the hole punched deep into the earth. She barely caught herself in time to avoid falling into the darkness below. Skirting around it, she felt the ground tremble. Again a creature let out a great screech and the shadows swiftly swarming against the glow of the moon drew her attention upward.

A spiderlike creature many stories tall and suspended on countless limbs blotted out the radiant orb as it lumbered across the terrain. Its legs, adorned with barbed hooks, perforated the ground, leaving holes much like the one she had almost fallen in to. Smaller legs, tipped in pinchers, snapped at the flock of batlike owls teeming around its head. Mackenzie thought she saw a human figure clutched in one of those pinchers and she thought of Grant. Where was he? Did Grace kill him? She felt utterly lost without him, yet she had no choice but to run.

The creature thundering over her head did not appear to have seen her and she resumed her frenzied trek to the tree line. Every step was increasingly agonizing and she virtually had to drag her right leg as she hobbled resolutely on. The knife in her hand was a reassuring weight, but against a creature like Grace she doubted she would come out alive. Tears of fear and despair were cold against her flushed skin. She didn't want to die like the others had. The smell of death clung to her skin and filled her nostrils. The hot coppery smell of Ted's lifeblood would forever haunt her. In the amusement park she had almost given in to death. Maybe it was because she had felt dead already, but now she felt agonizingly alive and wanted to stay that way.

The pine trees rose before her like a dark mountain range. Though it was foolish for her to consider them a safe haven, she lied to herself that she would find safety in the gloom.

“Mackenzie!”

It sounded like Grant, far away and desperate to find her.

The edge of the woods was only twenty feet away now. She was out of the dead spot. If she could perhaps hide until daylight, she could find her way to a new dead spot she could take control of and secure.

“Mackenzie!”

She hesitated, unsure if she should make her presence known, but Grant sounded winded and frightened.

“Mackenzie!”

“Here!” The second the words left her lips, she panicked. Maybe Grant now knew where she was, but so did the other things in the night. She raked her gaze over the field, seeking out Grant's form.

“Mackenzie!” The voice no longer sounded like Grant.

She shuddered, terror enveloping her. “Tildy,” she whispered.

Pivoting on her good leg, she saw Tildy standing directly behind her. The flat blackness of her eyes stole Mackenzie's breath away.

Tildy smirked. “You're so easy to find. Almost not worth the trouble.”

Without thinking, Mackenzie plunged the carving knife into Tildy's chest. The wraith gasped in shock, then her face clouded with fury. Tildy lunged forward, her clawed hands shoving Mackenzie off her feet. Instead of crashing to the ground, Mackenzie felt herself falling. As she thrust out her hands to stop her descent, her fingers dug into moist soft earth. It was then she realized she was falling into a grave.

“No!”

She slammed into the muddy bottom of the grave, the air knocked out of her lungs. Gasping for breath, she tried to roll onto her knees. Hands erupted from the mud, gripping her arms and legs. Unable to scream, her lungs constricting, Mackenzie thrashed about trying to break free. The clawed hands clamped over her hips and shoulders, drawing her into the mud.

The anxiety attack hit her like a ton of bricks, stealing her reason, stealing her breath, and hurtling her into a full-blown panic. Wheezing, unable to cry out for help, she fought to break free from the iron grip of the dirty fingers holding her. From the walls of the grave the silent mourners emerged, their arms empty of their terrible dolls, but their faces still frozen in a noiseless scream. Writhing against her captors, Mackenzie watched in terror as the creatures gathered over her, blocking out the last bit of moonlight trickling into the grave.

One of them straddled her chest and reached down with its long, bony arms. Its hands covering her face, the mourner thrust Mackenzie's head into the mud.

The soggy, foamy dirt filled her ears, mouth, nose, and eyes. The chalky taste of earth gagged her and she flailed, striving to break free. Struggling for breath, she only dragged mud into her lungs. The roar of the blood racing through her body filled her ears and the pain in her chest became unbearable. When she opened her eyes, they only stung and burned from the mud and filled her vision with darkness.