Hidden (Hidden Series Book One) (21 page)

A teenaged girl, who had to be Edith, came
into a room with a smaller Emma. Edith kneeled in front of her and
pulled a doll from behind her back. Emma didn’t smile. It was a
creepy looking doll with stringy hair and holes for eyes. She
didn’t say anything to her sister. Everything was implied. Edith
kissed her forehead and left the room. Emma pulled a black candle
and matches from the bottom of her toy chest. She lit the candle,
crying.

“Christine! Your nose!” Emma yelled. I
snapped out of the memory and saw the blood leaking to my lip. A
bloody face. Like copies. I struggled to breathe.

Emma bundled tissue into a wad and handed it
to me. I pressed it against my nose, pinching, thinking how
incredibly ironic it was that I was still afraid of the sight of my
own blood.

“Allergies?” she asked.

“Must be,” I lied.

She giggled. “Pet dander, perhaps?” I
surprised myself by laughing, bypassing Leah’s reaction to her
making fun of Nathan.

I cleaned my face, washed my hands, and
finished her bun, ignoring her thoughts this time.

“Thanks. At least my hair is pretty,” Emma
said. She frowned at herself in the mirror. I frowned too. Girls
like Emma, beautiful with awesome personalities, shouldn't be
allowed to frown.

In Nathan's eyes, and Sophia's too,
I
was a girl like that.

I smiled at my other impossible friend. “Are
you nuts? You’re like … really pretty. And those people are going
to love you.”

Looking at me with sad and watery eyes, she
said, “And if they don’t?”

“Then you won’t get a job, you’ll have to
stay here, and I’ll do a better job with your hair for the next
ball,” I said. She chuckled and hugged me. I ignored the tug to
listen to her thoughts again and walked her to the door.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep the tramps off of
your man,” she said.

I snickered. Who says tramps? “Thanks. Yours
too, I bet.” She squinted her eyes and sighed, wordlessly admitting
that she liked Paul. “Have fun.”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes,
like she was making a wish in the moment.

My boyfriend was at the door when she walked
out. My knees quaked when I saw him. He was handsome. Dazzling. All
dressed up in a tux. He’d even combed his hair. It wasn’t tossed
about, naturally falling in perfect places, like it usually
was.

“Wow,” I said. He raised one eyebrow. “Just
… wow.”

“I’ll stay if you want me to. I’ll just tell
Sophia she isn’t the boss of me.”

“Go. Make your connections or whatever.” His
hands were in his pockets. I wove my arms around to his back and
leaned on his chest.

“Call me if you get scared. I’ll make them
bring me … home.” I didn’t risk a glance into his eyes. The moment
was too intense for eye contact. He’d never felt at home with John
and Theresa. He’d just called this place home, with me, a
bloody-faced copy. Before the tears broke through he said, “Why
does it feel like I’m going off to ‘Nam?” I laughed instead of
breaking down.

“Shut up, Nate.”

“Draw me something while I’m gone.” I shook
my head. “Stop being shy. I want to see what you can do.”

“Maybe,” I whispered.

We kissed, two sweet pecks, and he left. I
didn’t walk him downstairs. I didn’t want to see them dolled up
while I was in sweats. Paul would clean up nicely, and Remi would
look sexy and grown up. Her tattoos would be showing, and she’d be
around my boyfriend, being the exact opposite of me – hot and the
right kind of creature for him.

Sophia startled me by popping into my room
in a flash of light. If she’d come a few seconds earlier, she would
have caught Nate and I kissing.

Her dress matched her eyes. It shimmered
like them too, flowing to the ground in a wave of ruffles. “You
look beautiful,” I said.

She took my face in her hands and frowned.
“I only wanted them to go to the ball because it is extremely
unfair that I have them living here for free, dear. They need jobs,
and this is the way.”

“They don’t have to pay me, Sophia.”

“I don’t want to take advantage of you
anymore than I already have.” I sighed, and she smiled before I
could fight with her about it. “And I would never leave if you
wanted me to stay. It’s just that it’s going to be a hard night for
Emma, and I promised her parents I’d look after her,” she said.

“Sophia,
really
, I’m okay. I’ll call
you if a hunter comes.”

She frowned and pulled me closer.

“There’s so much magic around this house, a
fly couldn’t get through the door. Nothing will happen to you. I
promise on my life,” she said, far too seriously to say that I was
supposedly safe here. She kissed my forehead and stepped away.
“Three hours tops, dear. Your dinner is in the kitchen.”

She waved, and then I was alone. Technically
the most alone I’d ever been. I’d had a private room at school, but
there were always girls all around me, giggling in the halls,
having slumber parties in the common room.

I ate dinner slowly, trying to shave away
time. It was 7:14. They’d be gone until 10. I rinsed my plate and
turned off the lights in the kitchen. I shivered and watched my
breath make circles in the air.

“Not happening,” I said. With my eyes
closed, I moved slowly up the stairs, ignoring the chill in front
of me. It touched my hand on the second floor, and Remi’s door
cracked open. “Oh, God. I’m psychotic.”

Red light spilled into the hall from her
door. Curious, I peaked in. She’d taken the shades off of her
lamps. The light bulbs were red. Her bed was covered with clothes
and tissues. The chill grazed my hand again. It felt like an
invitation to go inside. I didn’t want to intrude, but … it
was
my house.

I crept into the room, not sure what I was
looking for. Well, I wasn’t completely clueless. I had a feeling. I
rolled my eyes and followed the stupid, probably psychic, pull to
her bed. Under the mess, I saw what was drawing me there.

Her camera, photographs scattered over
newspaper clippings, and a huge cell phone with a touch-screen.
Much newer than the one she’d had in the kitchen. The clippings
were of me. All of them – my face, my robot, Sister Margret’s plea
for my kidnapper to return me. The high-tech phone turned on with a
sweep of my thumb across the screen. I toggled around for a minute
and found no numbers saved in her contacts and only one used in her
call log and messages. I read them in case they were about me
too.

I hope you know what you’re doing.

Of course I do. I’m not the silly little
girl you think I am. I’ve wanted this forever. I’ve followed this
witch around until I found him. I’m so close. Nothing will stop
me.

It sounded like she’d had her eyes set on
Nathan for a while. I dropped the phone on her bed, worried she was
getting even closer to him at the ball, hoping Emma had her eyes
out for tramps like she said she would.

I gagged as my hand accidentally grazed a
tissue. It was soggy and full of green goo. The chill returned. I
had to be imagining it, but it felt like it moved my hand to her
camera.

I snatched it and the stack of pictures,
shivering so hard that my teeth chattered. Then I ran and slammed
her door like someone was suddenly after me. It felt like it.

I locked my door, glad it wasn’t as cold in
here. Without the creepy chill, I wasn’t as afraid. I sat on my
sofa and turned her camera on. All of the pictures were deleted.
Maybe she’d done it after she had them developed.

I flipped through the stack. The first few
were of Emma and Paul. They didn’t seem to be aware of Remi’s
camera. They were sitting in a circle of candles in the living
room, laughing. I almost called her out of her name when I found
one of Nate with his abs exposed and sweaty. He was carrying two
thick branches over one of his arms. The next was of him as a dog.
He was outside by the pool, the setting sun casting glints of
orange on his fur.

The next was of the house. No. I held the
picture closer. I was in it. I was the little figure against the
open window on the roof. She’d taken it the other day when I was
out there.

“Creepy.”

The next one was worse. Through a window,
she’d taken a picture of Nate and I making out … the night she
left, well pretended to leave. She’d taken several of the gate, the
purple flowers braided around the entrance, specifically. Maybe
that was the magic surrounding the house. They were placed too
perfectly not to be there on purpose. The last one stalled my
heart. It was of my door, the top of it, the oil glistening and
fresh.

These
could
be memories she wanted to
save, or her obsession with my boyfriend, but it looked like more.
Evidence, almost.

With a thought, I raised the pictures in the
air, all but the one of me kissing Nate. Fire took them slowly,
curling the edges until all of her memories were ash. Inside of me,
Leah squirmed, excited by the flame and how strongly she wanted to
do this to Remi.

I stared at Nate to silence her.

I swept what was left of the pictures under
the feathery rug. I curled up on the sofa, exhausted and
worried.

“Nothing’s wrong. You’re not in any danger.
You’ll get to keep him forever,” I said, lying to myself.

I cranked up the volume on the television to
drown out silence and doubt. I let the news play for ten minutes
and didn’t see my horrible picture or robot. They were talking
about money and the economy. Finally moved on from me.

One drop of good news in the sea of bad.

My phone chimed on my bed as I stepped out
of the tub.

It was a text from Nathan.

Sorry, babe. I meant to keep in touch.
Sophia is being insane about phone usage right now
. He didn’t
reply to my asking how everything was going. I assumed he’d been
caught and made to put his phone away again.

I got into my pajamas and sat at my desk. I
propped the picture of me kissing my boyfriend against the screen
of my laptop. “How do I explain something I know nothing about?” I
whispered. My past and my powers were a mystery. And mysteries are
inherently more terrifying, wrapped in the suspense of what could
be.

Since my past wasn’t on the internet, I
typed
dangerous psychic powers
in the search bar. Then I
deleted
dangerous
, seeing how it would influence the results
like I had when searching witches and Satan.

I clicked the site called
Psychic
Powers
. It seemed like a good one to start with.

They’d complied a list of mental powers that
some humans, according to myth, possess. Since I was twelve, I’d
done nearly everything on the list. It all started with what they
were calling psychic teleportation. The next day, the scariest one
of all, pyrokinesis, made its debut.

I remembered it being freezing in my dorm
that day. Whitney had gone downstairs to see if the girls would let
her join their hot chocolate night. I’d thought about fire, and a
ball of it flared in front of my face.

I had a story for each of the Claires –
knowing, feeling, hearing, and seeing. Hearing was the worst. I’d
heard the buzzing for weeks and I finally let it draw me in. Too
bad I was in class and screamed when their thoughts overwhelmed me.
Sienna had a great time with that one.

I bookmarked the site. I thought I could
show Nate and tell him about the first time I’d noticed each of the
powers. It didn’t have anything to do with killing sometimes, and
the times it had, I’d felt awful to the point of making myself sick
over it.

I put my head down on the desk, worried
about his reaction, and the chill I wanted to believe was all in my
head grazed my cheek. I jumped up from the chair. The eerie feeling
of fingers pressed against my face, making me slap myself. Then it
rubbed the stinging spot, as if to sooth me. I stood there, both
sides of my face enclosed in icy hands.

I flailed my arms in front of me. It was
like sticking them into a freezer. I didn’t know what was more
frightening – being insane or the possibility of a ghost being in
the room with me.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” I said.
The fingers moved from my face. Then I heard tapping, like keys
being pressed.

Watch your language, dear,
appeared
on the address bar.

I screamed and scrambled away from the desk.
I didn’t get far. I tripped over my feet, and the tapping started
again. I crawled back to the screen slowly, staying on the
floor.

Don’t fear me, sweetie. You said you
wanted to know your past. I’ve been trying to help
.

“Sweetie?” I asked, half to myself, half to
the ghost.

Would you rather pumpkin? Darling? Babe
seems to be taken.

The words shuffled out of view as it typed.
I was curious now, so I moved closer with caution, growing colder
by the inch, and opened a blank document for it to type on.

“Who are you?” I asked.

I have rules to follow, so I can’t say, but
you can call me CC, honey.

“Honey? Um … do you, did you, live here?” I
asked.

Yes, dear
.

My breaths became visible in the air when CC
came closer and held my face again. I trembled. “Are you Catherine?
Are you my mother?”

She left my face. To answer, I guessed.

Against the rules to say,
she typed.
Call me CC
.

“What rules?”

My husband’s. He doesn’t want me to talk to
you. He wants you to find your way without my help.

I gasped. “Husband? Is he a ghost too?”

Yes
.

“Is he my dad?”

Remember the rules, honey
.

“Mom, just tell me.”

Call me CC
.

I sighed. She was close enough again for me
to see that sigh float away. It got even colder as she pressed her
ghost lips to my cheek. I could feel them faintly push into a kiss.
She was definitely Catherine.