Luminosity (Gravity Series #3) (The Gravity Series) (14 page)

One last chance to forget all about this.

It took every ounce of will power not to run away. But I was here.

I smelled a whiff of wet dog, fading quickly, and that settled it. It was as though a finger made of smoke had appeared, beckoning me to come.

I didn’t see much sign of fire damage down on this level, but it wasn’t easy to find my way. Unlike the dream, the interior wasn’t set up with merely one long hallway. That would have been too easy.

There were all kinds of rooms, some wide and some short, some that seemed vaguely familiar and some not at all. They were connected to each other like sewer tunnels. The architect that had designed the place must have had some serious screws loose.

I felt like something was creeping up on me. The feeling crawled across the back of my neck. I told myself it was just my nerves and kept walking.

Scratches behind me. I whipped around, shining my flashlight. There was no one behind me, but the shadows were twitching again. I swallowed my squeal of fear. I hurried on and arrived at another short, twisty hallway.

The building creaked and groaned around me. The stuffy air reeked of the scent of charred wood, choking me. Ashes and dust motes swirled thickly in the flashlight’s beam.

I expected a ghost, the dog itself—anything—to jump out at me any second. It was a shade above pitch black and I had to fight my fear to keep moving. The room ahead of me was completely empty and narrow. Nothing looked familiar as I’d never been in this part of the house. I had no sense of direction, especially since the rooms had weird angles and seemed smaller than they should have been.

I kept walking, nerves escalating to a fever pitch. I swung the flashlight left and right, breathing heavy in my ears. I started humming, then realized it was a bad idea. Below my feet, I could pick up the faint beating I had been expecting, the beating of Dexter’s infernal heart.

I heard scurrying footsteps, but tried to tell myself it was my imagination again. A panic attack started to ripple through me, but I forced it away, breathing evenly.

Dark creatures flew up around me and I shrieked, covering my hair and ducking down towards the floor. Wings flapped around me, too close and loud for comfort. The flashlight dropped out of my hand and rolled away.

Birds. It sounded like birds.

But the shrieks they emitted were higher pitched. I looked up and saw a group of flapping bats. They shot up towards the ceiling and flew off.

Sweat broke out across my brow. This was stupid… so, so stupid. I fumbled around on the floor for the flashlight; the tumble had turned it off. Praying I hadn’t broken it or damaged the batteries, I wrapped my hand around the shaft and pulled it up. I flicked the switch and after a moment of flickering, the reassuring beam came back on.

A figure ran past me on my right. My heart skipped a beat and I froze, turning my head that way. The room was one of the few I’d seen that looked packed, with some old furniture and a pile of cages. I recognized it from the haunted house tour. But I couldn’t see anyone. There was no way out other than coming right where I was.

I didn’t want to call out, in case someone answered me back.

I took a few careful steps. A figure rushed past on the other side. This time I knew I hadn’t imagined it. Whoever they were, they were closing in.

I started to run, crashing into a hallway, praying that I could find some way out. Blood rushed through my ears and I felt like I might pass out. I’d completely lost my sense of direction. Around me the shadows warped and twisted, starting to take shape.

I wished I’d told someone where I was. I wished I’d listened to Henry. The more driven I became, the more reckless I acted.

Suddenly, I saw the dining room in front of me. Like in the dream, the wall had been broken through. A fireman’s ax lay on the floor.

Maneuvering through the hole I stepped over chunks of plaster. I forced myself to calm down, the fear replaced by tentative excitement.

Here the details of my dream were more relevant. It shocked me to see that the table had indeed been broken in half by a big chunk of wood that had tumbled from above. The chairs were still standing, though, tucked in neatly underneath the mutilated tabletop. I looked up at the high ceiling and saw the the bluish full moon shimmering through the jagged hole.

There was a space on the wall that I hadn’t noticed before—a thick crack that ran up about six feet. I traced my finger down it, wondering if it had somehow come from the fire. Judging by the a clear, rectangular swath among the stains on the wall, something was missing from in front of the crack.

I stopped in front of the fireplace. It was so large that the mantle went a foot over my head. Dexter’s portrait was still there, but it had been split in half right down the center. A shaft of moonlight caught Dexter’s painted eyes. There was something so cold and knowing in his look, like he knew I was trespassing. I shivered, rubbed my arms and tore my eyes away.

Part of me expected to actually see the dog digging around in the rubble, but he was nowhere to be found. No spooky kids, either, which didn’t bother me one bit. The faster I could get out, the better. The nerves Jenna thought were made of steel had turned to Jell-O.

I went to the corner and knelt down at a pile of ashes, stones and wood. I tried using my hands, but I hated the unnatural, gritty feel of the debris.

Back at the table, I grabbed an old candelabra. Using the broken candle holders, I shoveled away as much of the debris as I could.

I thought I heard a dog growl behind me. I stopped, turned around and stared into the dark. Nothing. I dug quicker, dirt flying everywhere. At the bottom was the green stone of Eleanor’s necklace. The silver chain was encrusted with dirt but all the links were still intact.

I never thought I’d see it again. Theo had told me that I’d tossed it away during the seance. It looked remarkably unscathed for all the time it had spent beneath the rubble. The green stone stood out like a beacon, sparkling invitingly.

It felt unreal to see it. I’d barely remembered what it looked like, but the memories all flooded back. One thing I hadn’t forgotten was the way it heated up. As I reached out tentatively to grab it, I paused. Heat was definitely emanating from the stone again. It burned the skin of my hand as I held it a foot away. Hot now—not merely warm—and pulsing like lava. Or a heart ripped freshly out of someone’s chest.

“Ariel, you have the most gruesome mind,” I chastised myself.

I wrapped my sleeve around my hand, reached out and grasped the pendant.

Electricity shot from the tip of my finger up to my shoulder. Silver bolts danced in my eyes. My head began to float as my whole body shook. I felt myself being pulled through my own skin. My vision went black and then brilliant white as I felt my spirit careen through space.

CHAPTER 12

IN A FAIRYTALE,
the deep, rich purple of the sky would have been beautiful. But in Dark, the violet sky looked like a sickness, an ugly pool of blood beneath damaged skin. I could barely stand to look at it, feeling it infect my sight and transform the world around me into funny colors.

I was crouching on the ground, black dirt beneath my now bare feet. To my shock and horror, I noticed the white dress wrapped around me again. It was like an infestation that wouldn’t go away. The bottom was torn, but it was otherwise intact.

I brought myself to my feet to get a better look at what I’d gotten myself into. It wasn’t good. Dexter was on fire in front of me, and I could see it better now that it wasn’t completely obscured by smoke.

Figures screamed and writhed inside, barely visible through the blackened windows. I swallowed a horrified scream. They were already dead. I couldn’t save them.

I ran to the gate and pushed it open. I didn’t know where I was going, but I had to get as far away from the orphanage in its native state as I could.

The air was thick and it was hard to breathe, but I kept running down the road. My limbs were slow and heavy, but my fear forced my feet to pound the pavement. My feet didn’t register pain like they should have, but I didn’t stop to think about it. The tops of the dark trees were on fire, filling the air with choking smoke. It surrounded me like fog, obscuring darker shapes I didn’t want to see.

When I finally came out past the trees, I saw lines of buildings that I didn’t quite recognize. There were familiar features, but nothing I could grasp on to. Nowhere felt safe. I stopped in the middle of the road and whirled around, desperately looking for a way out.

I shut my eyes, trying to wish myself back home. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a nightmare.
There’s no place like home.

I opened my eyes and was staring back up at Dexter again. I was on the lawn like I’d never left. Two small children were standing calmly in front of me, wearing masks. Their clothes were tattered and stained, red scrapes marring their bony knees. The taller one was wearing a pig mask, the shorter one a rat. They were holding hands.

Help us.
The words jammed into my head like unwanted fingers.

I took a step forward, but the orphans split and ran in different directions towards the back of the building. I felt a tapping on my back that snaked a chill up my spine.

Turning around, I saw another child standing behind me wearing a black cat mask. The whiskers had been singed off. It was a little girl; she was wearing a tattered dress with a torn ribbon. Black eyes stared at me through the holes in the cat mask.

There was something burning in those eyes, a raw intensity. Something inhuman and hateful. The children’s apparent innocence made me suspicious.

Before I could react, the girl reached out and seized my hand. Her grip was powerful and unrelenting. While I protested, she pulled me with her and we ran across the lawn.

She led me to the caretaker’s shed; in Dark it was still standing, although the roof was harshly crooked. We ran inside and she slammed the door shut. It was lit just enough so that we could look at each other, stepping back from the door and into the room.

What have I gotten myself into?

I was about to try to ask her what was going on, when I heard it—the shouts of the children outside. Scampering feet ran up and stopped outside the door. The knob began to turn.

The girl let go of my hand and shot out both of hers to hold the doorknob shut. Her heels dug into the floor, tiny muscles along her pale arms straining hard.

My breathing was loud in my ears. The pendant glowed green steadily, making everything look possessed. The stone had never glowed before, although I’d always expected it to because of the heat it emitted. I took it as a bad sign. Claustrophobia overcame me; I didn’t want to be in the enclosed space.

I want to go home right now.

The girl, still straining to hold the door shut, began whispering to herself very fast. So fast that it didn’t sound like words, more like shushing sounds. I looked around and saw with mounting horror that the shadows in the corner were starting to form into shapes. I could have reached out to help her, but I didn’t want to risk touching her sandpaper skin again.

The voices outside went silent and heavy footfalls crashed through the brush. It was the dog, I knew it. He began to bark furiously, making the children scream again. I crushed my hands to my ears to block the sound. Ferocious growls echoed in the still air.

The dog must have charged on the children. The sounds of a scuffle ensued. Even though the girl inside kept holding the door shut with what looked like all the strength in her small arms, it banged back and forth. The growls intensified, accompanied by ripping and tearing sounds.

I felt something on my bare feet. I bent down and put my finger in it. Wet. Lifting my fingers up to the light from the necklace I saw that the tips were coated in dark red liquid. The liquid smelled metallic, like hot iron. Blood.

I stood, wiping my hand furiously on the dress, my shoulders beginning to shake. A bang came from the corner of the room. I felt paralyzed from the waist down, but I managed to move my head. A strange girl wearing a gingham dress was standing there with an angry expression. Her hair was cut in a short, old-fashioned flapper bob. She stalked up to me, pulsing fear through my veins. Reaching towards my chest, she ripped the necklace from my neck. I quickly descended into blackness again and stayed there.

###

I opened my eyes. Lids blinking slowly, I saw ashes fluttering down. Not ashes—as they fell towards me, I saw they were little, late-season snowflakes. The inky sky didn’t hint at whether it was late at night or early morning.

I tried to get up.

I couldn’t move. My body was numb from the neck down.

The realization seemed surreal at first. I thought maybe it was a holdover from my dream. My limbs must have fallen asleep. I kept trying to twitch my toes and fingers. No sensation, not even the slightest of pins and needles. Panic began to set in. My eyes darted around.

The gate was to my right. I was outside of it, lying in the middle of the street. What if a car came? I tried wiggling my appendages again. I almost thought I felt the feeling in my feet and toes stir, but it could have just been mental habit.