Divine Vices (18 page)

“Yeah,
with a word that evidence of some recent, and rather juicy, gossip was right on
display in here,” she snapped. “Mind if I ask what’s going on?”

“You
need visuals? Because I’m more than happy to demonstrate with Foster,” Jack
quipped.

“Nothing
happened,” I said.

“I’m
sorry, but can I ask what’s gotten into you lately?” asked Gwen as she hurried
after me upon my fleeing from the restrooms.

“Me?
I haven’t done anything. And I do mean
anything
. So if you wouldn’t mind
doing me the favor of keeping this off the front page of your gossip column,
I’d appreciate it.”

“If
you keep putting yourself into positions like the one back there, I might not
be able to contain the story,” she remarked, just a bit too judgingly.

“Well,
I’d do my best if I were you, because who knows what kind of dirty little
secrets might start to circulate in regard to you, and your love life,” I
remarked warningly.

“Oh,
please,” laughed Gwen. “Everyone knows of my proclivity for taking a liking to
jocks. That’s hardly scandalous.”

“No,
but your fondness for a particular, eccentric magician might be.”

Gwen
grabbed my arm and crashed to a halt. “Come again?”

“Oh,
I know all about you and your peculiar childhood crush,” I returned all too smilingly.

“Where
did you hear that?” she whispered, her eyes as big as a bushbaby’s. “Ian didn’t
tell you that, did he?! Does he know?!”

I
chuckled. “Relax, he’s still completely oblivious to it.”

“Because
that was when we were little. I mean, come on. What did I know? I was six at
the time. You know what else I wanted when I was six?”

I
shrugged amusingly.

“To
become a horse.”

I
burst out in laughter.

“Seriously,”
she said, a slight smile rising to her lips. “I was a
weird
kid; hence
my peculiar taste. Just promise me you won’t tell him. He’d never let me live
that one down.”

“Oh,
I don’t know. I may have to keep that little nugget handy, just in case I need
to divert some attention away from another salacious, completely falsified,
rumor about me,” I said, seeing her squirming about as she contemplated the
possible damage to her social ranking.

“Fine,
I’ll keep anything about you and your slew of men off my blog, as long as
there’s no evidentiary proof.”

“Deal.”

It
wasn’t even ten o’clock when I fell into bed. Pulling up my comforter to the
tops of my shoulders, I tossed and turned until I finally settled on my right
side. My eyelids sank shut from exhaustion and I nuzzled my head into my
pillow. The television was still on, but I didn’t bother to shut it off because
its low volume was just enough to subdue my reeling thoughts without engaging
me too much in the conversation onscreen.

Like
slipping into a warm bath, my weary limbs slowly eased under the lethargic wave
of serenity that washed over me. No matter how much I dreaded whatever dreams
awaited me on the other side of my consciousness, my body and mind gave into
the exhaustion.

I
couldn’t tell what hour it was when I turned over to my left side. Time is
funny like that in the REM cycle. I opened my eyes to see that not only was it
still pitch black outside, but so was my room with the exception of the subtle
glow from the streetlight outside that always peeked through the top of my
curtains by my bed. Had I turned the television off in my sleep? I felt around,
trying to find the remote, but it wasn’t there. Just as I rolled over to check
my other nightstand, I noticed a dark figure looming in the corner of my room
by my closet.

I
reached under my bed and grabbed the baseball bat resting on the floor behind
the valance. Gripping the handle firmly, I frantically called out for my dad as
I jumped out of bed.

“He’s
not here.”

That
voice.

“Ja-Ja-Jack?”
I sputtered.

Sure
enough, his serpentine blue eyes illuminated in the faint light like that of a
young wolf as he emerged from the shadows.

“What
the hell are you doing here?! Where’s my dad?”

He
didn’t reply. Jack simply strode in further, his shoulder blades pinched high
like that of a lion when stalking its prey. Wielding the bat with as much
strength as I could muster, I stepped away from my mattress and nightstand so
that I had clear space around me to make an unobstructed swing, free of lamps
and low hanging lanterns.

“What?
Are you gonna hit me, Cassie?”

I
nodded fiercely. “Until you give me a good enough reason not to.”

He
took a long stride and cut the distance between us in half, so I leaned in and
swung without mercy. The strike was precise, but somehow the bat didn’t connect
with anything. After recovering from the forceful momentum I had driven into
the swing, I whipped back around to look out at the absent living space. Where
did he go?

Lifting
the bat high again, ready to hack at anything that so much as moved, I
cautiously stepped deeper into the bedroom.

“Better
put that thing down before you hurt yourself,” said Jack, his breath falling
upon the nape of my neck.

How
did he get behind me?

I
whirled around and prepared to swing unapologetically at him, but just as I was
about to follow through, the bat snapped to a stop and the jolt sent a sharp
pain into my shoulders as they locked.

His
hands gripped the sweet spot of the bat and he ripped it free from my
death-grip as easily as a toy from a toddler. Tossing the lumber across the
room, he snatched hold of my waist from behind just as I bolted for the door.
Amid my frantic kicking and flailing, I concentrated on trying to claw at his
face, but Jack quickly grabbed a hold of my arms as well and pinned them firmly
at my sides as I hopelessly struggled to break free from his clutches.

He
suddenly flung me sideways and I hectically tried to pull myself off my
mattress as I hammered down on the bed. Before I could so much as sit upright,
Jack rushed over me, pinning down every limb. I yelped desperately for help,
but an unspeakable surge of isolation swept through the house with my bellowing
echoes.

My
chest shuddered frantically with sharp, short, agonizing breaths as I stared up
at Jack through tear clouded eyes. “What the hell do you want?!”

His
once-charming, crooked grin grew jagged and his steely gaze radiated wickedly
with malicious intent. For the first split second he crushed his lips against
mine, I thought to thrash about as violently as I could, but the fear and sense
of violation melted away with an unexplainable calm. My eyes fell shut with no
fight. It wasn’t that I felt safe. Not at all. I felt numb. Tranquilized.

As
his lips parted from mine, I reopened my eyes to see him still staring over me,
but something was different. It felt cold. In fact, I could feel a breeze
coursing through the air. Slowly retracting off me, Jack rose with my hands
held in his. He pulled me upright, the distance between us so minimal I could
feel the heat from his body emitting onto mine.

A
sudden gust tossed my hair over my eyes, and that’s when I realized it. I was
outside. Turning in the direction of the chilling draft, the black strands blew
themselves away as I looked out at the vast woodlands sprawling infinitely in
every direction. But that’s not what caught my attention most. It was the seven
dark cloaked figures standing in a circumference around the two of us, their
features veiled by deep-set hoods that protracted several inches in front of their
faces.

“Who
are these people?!” I asked frenetically.

“Mors
venit ad vos,” whispered Jack.

“What?”
I turned my attention back to Jack and screamed in sheer terror as I looked at
where his icy blue stare used to be. Instead, crimson red painted the entirety
of his eyes.

I
stumbled backward, but even before I got so much as a pace away, Jack
immediately grabbed the back of my neck and yanked me in again.

Keeping
me tightly in his grasp, he ran his mouth slowly down the side of my face until
reaching my ear. “Mors venit ad vos.”

His
hand slowly crept down my shoulder, falling to the middle of my back where his
other hand was already positioned. Curling his fingers into my skin, his nails
began breaking into the flesh as he pressed harder and harder.

“Jack,
stop!” I screamed, trying to pry myself free.

He
didn’t stop though. He tore deeper and deeper, and I could feel my skin ripping
apart under the slicing pressure. Just as I let out an agonizing cry, Jack
ripped his clawed nails down in a rapid slash that felt like numerous daggers
being torn into my broken flesh.

“STOP!”

Hurtling
myself into consciousness, my eyes and body sprang awake with a near convulsion
as I reentered reality. Expecting to see posters and my Chinese lantern resting
over me, I was sent into more of a dither when my vision finally focused
overhead at lofty, autumn-riddled trees resting under a pale sky that held the
subtle colors of dawn as my fingers scraped up moist foliage from the grass
beneath me. The early morning dew had seeped into the back of my clothes,
leaving goose bumps to perforate across my forearms, legs, and neck. I sat
upright, looking out at the vast woodlands that stretched out in every
direction around me. There were no roads, cars, or houses in sight, and with
only the knowledge of where east was, my anxiety shot into overdrive.

Crackling
erupted from behind, igniting me into fight-or-flight response. Just as I
scrambled to my feet, I whirled around to see a rabbit bouncing about the
ground twenty feet away. I breathed a sigh of relief, but as I exhaled, my
nerves only tightened all the more. With the extensive rain the earth had
accumulated, it was fairly easy to make out my bare foot prints in the mud.
Backtracking my steps southbound, I caught a glimpse to my left of what looked
like another set of imprints in the ground. Finding the freshest mark, I knelt
down and brushed away some crushed leaves to see a long, slender boot print
stamped in the dirt.

Shooting
upright, I spun about, only to still find myself in pure isolation. Running
like a bat out of hell, I launched off in the direction of my footprints with
no determination in mind but to keep moving and not stop until reaching
civilization again.

It
had to be a good quarter mile or so before I came rocketing out of the
woodlands and onto the end of Stockton Boulevard, three streets across from my
house. As I cut through my neighbors’ yards, I prayed that nobody was awake to
see me in my frantic, disheveled state. All I needed was a white laser wristband
to be mistaken for an escaped patient from a mental hospital. Slinking past
houses and scurrying like a ground squirrel across the street, I continued to
keep a lookout just in case I was being followed. Not a soul was in sight. I
took what little comfort that gave me and darted onto Avery, up my driveway,
and in through the side door that was already unlocked.

I
could hear my dad rummaging through one of his tool boxes he had stored in the
coat closet, so I quickly tiptoed through the kitchen and up the stairs to my
bedroom. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t want him to see. Clearly, something was
wrong with me. Amid my psychological bedlam, my one lucid objective was to get
cleaned up. I grabbed my robe and shower caddy before ducking into the bathroom.

Peeling
the cold, dampened clothes off my frame, I cranked the shower on high. Once
steam began fogging the top of the mirror above the sink, I readjusted the dial
to a more tolerable temperature before jumping in the shower. With thick suds
foaming into a washcloth, I vigorously scrubbed over my face and arms to rinse
off all the mud and muck. Reveling in the calm of the water, I let it cascade
over my head as it trailed down to clean the soap from my face. With a clump of
shampoo in hand, I turned around to begin lathering, only to jump forward as an
agonizing shot of heat scalded my back. Mustering just enough strength to not
yelp out in pain, I cautiously extended a hand back into the water. The
temperature was fine. I slowly went in again, but as soon as the water hit my
back, I leapt out of the way with a shooting pain coursing up from my hips to
the middle of my ribcage.

Tearing
the shower curtain open, I pulled my hair to the side and turned around so that
my back was facing the mirror across the way. I outwardly gasped in horror as I
observed eight vertical scratch marks running down the bottom half of my back.
My mind immediately went to the dream. Jack had clawed into the exact same
place. Dr. Richmond told my dad back in January that I could suffer from
episodes such as night terrors. I could be in danger of inflicting damage upon
myself. It was even common for a person to sleepwalk during these incidents.
And only one other set of prints were found around where I had been laying, not
eight. And they weren’t even
directly
by me.

But
as I studied the injury, I was certain that my own nails could not account for
the direction and length. The gashes were completely straight before flaring
out at the bottom, and my wrists didn’t have the capability of making all my
fingers line up perfectly for such a long stretch. Who else was there? There
was another set of tracks in the woods. It hadn’t rained last night so it still
stood to reason that the prints could have been from earlier in the day, but I
wasn’t buying it. How did I get outside? The side door to the driveway. It was
unlocked when I came back in. Had my dad already gone out, or was it simply
unlocked because I unknowingly unlocked it in my sleep? Or worse, was it
because of somebody else breaking in?

Taking
the quickest shower known to mankind, I lathered shampoo into my hair
haphazardly and washed off before stumbling out of the bathroom with my nerves
more shaken than ever. I tried to clean off the scratches with disinfectant as
best as I could. Surprisingly, after I got out of the shower, I could see the
injury wasn’t as bad as I first thought.

Barely
managing to button up the front of my shirt and jeans amid my trembling digits,
I practically fell into the kitchen with the determination to spill my beans
about everything. Only no one was there.

“Dad?
Dad?!” I called out.

Heavy
footsteps came clunking up from the basement, and I instinctively backed away
toward the side door, not knowing if I’d need to make a quick getaway. To my
utmost relief, my dad entered the kitchen.

Looking
at the clock above the stove, he returned a perplexed gaze. “What are you doing
up this time in the morning? You sleep okay?”

“That’s
the thing,” I said, turning my attention to the unlocked side door. “Have you
already gone outside?”

“Yeah,
why?”

“Did
you happen to notice if the door was already-”

A
shadow clouded over the window above the side door, and I immediately shot away
from it in alarm as a figure appeared out of the corner of my eye.

“What
has gotten into you?” said my dad, heading past me to greet the shady figure.

“Foster.”

“Tom,”
replied my dad, upon opening the door. “How’s it goin’?”

I
nearly collapsed with relief as Officer Benson approached with a shrug.
“Nothing new, which I guess is both good and bad. Still no luck with the pool
of potential suspects, but we also can’t say for sure that the Hyatt girl may
not have just left town. Veronica lives with her folks and she’s always had a
tumultuous relationship with them, so it’s really a fifty-fifty at this point.
With this new stir of gossip about cults, we’re just glad to see that no freak
shows have come to town.”

“Well,
best of luck in catching a break.”

“Thanks,”
said the officer. “Speaking of breaks, heard you got the Cutlass running. Is
that true?”

My
dad’s face lit up like a Christmas tree as he looked up the driveway at the old
girl. “Yeah, she still needs some work done, but she can run no less.”

He
might as well have sucker punched me in the gut, because seeing him the
happiest he had been in so long, only for me to bring it all tumbling back down
with my indescribable drama, was too much to bear.

“Knew
you’d be up, so I just thought I’d swing by and drop these off on my way to
work,” Tom said, handing my dad an envelope. “Those permits you’ve been waiting
on, for the bar.”

“You’re
kidding?” He pried the envelope open and slapped the wall beside the doorframe
with a smile as big as the Cheshire cat. “Terrific! Thanks, man.”

“No
problem,” said Benson, readjusting his leather police duty belt. “See ya’
around. Bye, Cassie.”

I
waved weakly as I watched the officer bounce down the driveway to his squad
car.

“Just
when you think life’s stuck it to you,” my dad said, slapping the permits
gleefully, “you stumble your way over the rainbow to your pot of gold.”

“Dad,”
I whimpered. “Was the side door already unlocked when you woke up earlier?”

“Can’t
say I remember,” replied my dad, the elation wiping off his face with a fresh
coat of concern being slapped on. “Why? What’s up?”

Where
do I begin? I went to bed in my room last night, woke up in the woods this
morning, and I’m pretty sure someone was watching me! But I don’t remember
anything, except for what would be clinically listed as a night terror! Oh,
yeah, did I happen to mention that I look like I’ve been mauled by Freddy
Kruger?!

“Ah,
ah-”

For
the love of Mike, say something! Anything, you idiot!! I WOKE UP IN THE WOODS
THIS MORNING!!

“I
just thought I heard some noise down here before you were up...” I choked out.

Are
you kidding?! Cassie, you idiot! You're hallucinating or being stalked! Now is
not the time to be an introvert!

“And
you thought it would be better if
I
found out if it was a psychotic
killer first, while you’re tucked away safely in bed?” My dad laughed.

Safely
in bed? Oh, one would only hope... Come on, tell him the truth!
My mouth
opened again, but for the life of me, nothing else came out.

“You
need a ride to school, or is Jack picking you up again?”

“No!”
I snapped, taking a second to realize that he had asked two questions. “Uh, um,
I mean ‘no,’ Jack won’t be picking me up. Gwen is.”

“Okay,”
he said, still examining me worriedly. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah,”
I blurted, feeling as if I was about to crack at any moment. “I have to go
finish getting ready.”

Just
get to school, get through the day, and then get to the doctor’s office to make
sure I wouldn’t develop an infection, or rabies, or something that would turn
me into the Wolfwoman. But what would my dad say when he’d find out why I went?
It didn’t matter. I needed help!

I raced
back up the stairs and practically tackled the nightstand as I snatched up my
cell phone, frantically trying to call Gwen’s number.

“Hey,
you,” she said before I could even get out a word. “Everything okay?”

“Will
everyone just stop asking me that?” I growled.

“Sorry
for caring,” Gwen replied. “I’m just surprised to hear you up already.”

“I’m
sorry,” I said, rubbing my temples with my free hand.

“Rough
night?”

“You
could say that,” I said, my jaw clenching. “I was just calling to see if you
could pick me up?”

“Sorry,
can’t. I’m already at school.”

“Seriously?
Why?” My head practically sank to the floor as my insides tightened.

“Homecoming
prep. Principle Atkins agreed to let some of us come in early to set up, since
we have extracurricular activities that get in the way after school. I even
convinced Callaghan to come in. You still might be able to catch him for a
lift-”

“Thanks,”
I interrupted, about to pull the phone away from my ear.

“I
know you don’t want to hear this, but is everything okay?”

I
didn’t bother to reply. I simply hung up and called Ian on speed dial.

“Morning,
beautiful,” he answered on the third ring.

“Can
you pick me up?” I practically shouted with a desperate plea.

He
laughed. “Sure, can I ask?”

“No.”

“Okay,
I’m already on the road. I’ll be there in five.”