The Color of Fear (5 page)

“Brilliant. Listen, I’m still at school. Maths test. But I’m heading home now. I’ll pick you up at seven sharp. We’ll arrive fashionably late. Cheers.”

Caitlin forced a smile and then tapped the End Call
button
.

“Cheers,” she muttered to herself
.

She pocketed her phone and stared at her nails, pondering which one to chew.

Out of the corner of her eye, Caitlin caught sight of something moving. Something was in the bed next to her. Beneath the blanket.

Another crack of thunder shivered through the room.

“I’m abso-blood-lutely coming with you!” a determined voice called out in a thick British accent.

Natalie.

Caitlin threw back the puffy comforter. Her eyebrows narrowed together sharply.

“Don’t even think about it, you, you …
wiretapper
!
And drop the Brit accent and slang.”

“But I’ll be your photojournalist.”

Natalie whipped out her camera and snapped Caitlin’s picture.

“Imagine if a ghoul shows up—we’ll make Internet history.”

“
Not
gonna happen, Natalie,” Caitlin said as she blinked away the sting of the camera flash.

Natalie folded her arms and huffed.

Caitlin’s phone buzzed. A text from Jack:
Thx 4 sayng yes. Grvyrd 2nite aftr ball will b fun.

Caitlin smiled inwardly.

“What did he say?” Natalie asked.

Caitlin gave her sister a once-over. She knew the bombastic bundle of brains and cuteness would think of some way to blackmail her.

Caitlin hoisted Natalie up in the air until they were nose to nose.

“None of your business. And if you tell one living soul about any of this, you won’t live to see the sun rise.”

After Jack left Kingshire,
he made a slight detour. He turned onto Wellington Street and then stopped in at Penhaligon’s perfume house—it had been around forever and seemed like the perfect place to buy Caitlin a surprise gift now that he knew it was her birthday. William Penhaligon, an alchemist and the official perfumer to Queen Victoria, had created his first fragrance way back in 1872.

When he had first met Caitlin two months earlier, he had only wanted to befriend her. But she had turned out to be quirky and weird and unique in such a cool, sad, and vulnerable way. He couldn’t help liking her.

Jack opened the shop door and was met by a symphony of scents—vanilla, jasmine, sandalwood, and other exotic aromas.

The hardwood floor of the old London perfumery was made of a rustic walnut. A small fireplace burned brightly, and a large, lit chandelier hung from the ceiling.

The polished, red mahogany cabinets and sparkling glass shelves were stocked with a vast array of perfumes, powders, lotions, candles, and other fancy bottles. Jack had no idea which fragrance to buy for Caitlin, and suddenly felt unsure whether this was a good idea.

Thankfully, a female sales clerk greeted him.

“Welcome to Penhaligon’s. Would you care to sample some men’s cologne?”

Jack scratched his head. “Actually, I’m looking for a bottle of perfume. For a friend. It’s her birthday.”

The sales clerk smiled warmly. “How lovely. I have a couple of ideas in mind.”

She immediately brought Jack a few testers. There was something intoxicating about the third sample
, Elisabethan Rose
. Jack was no expert on ladies’ fragrances, but he knew plants and flowers quite well. He was certain that he detected geranium, musk, chamomile, and, of course, rose petals.

“Could you please gift wrap this one?”

“Of course,” the clerk said. Jack took out his mobile, as well as his wallet.

The clerk promptly returned with the wrapped package and a gift card for Jack to sign. Jack set his mobile and wallet on the counter while he handed the clerk his money. Then he wrote a short note to Caitlin, wishing her a truly happy and meaningful birthday.

“Cheers,” he said as he walked out the door, holding Caitlin’s gift in one hand and pocketing his wallet with the other.

Jack made a right turn as he left the shop. About a half block down Wellington, he saw them walking directly toward him.

Piper, Paige, and Layla.

Piper’s cagey eyes lit up when she spotted Jack.

“What a surprise! Hello, Jack.”

He nodded. “Where you off to?”

“Penhaligon’s,” Piper said.

“Some last-minute shopping,” Paige added. “Buying fancy fragrances for the masquerade ball.”

Piper spotted the package in Jack’s hand.

“Looks like you’ve already been there,” Piper said. “Is that some new devastating gentleman’s cologne?”

Jack chuckled. “No, no. It’s a gift for Caitlin. It’s her birthday.”

Piper’s eyes hardened. She seemed to be straining to maintain a smile. She placed a friendly hand on Jack’s shoulder. Her fingers straightened his shirt collar.

“Jack, luv, suppose you and I go to the dance together, seeing that we are both dateless at this late hour.”

“That’s kind of you, Piper. But I made plans with Caitlin.”

Piper’s arm recoiled. Her eyes narrowed to mere slits.

“I don’t wanna sound high-nosed, J, but do you really wanna be seen at the ball with someone like Caitlin?”

Jack smiled. “I’d love to stand here and chat, but I really gotta go
P
.”

And with that, Jack strode off. He felt a bit bad for the pee innuendo. But it was the only way to put Piper in her place. Jack knew, given the chance, Piper would skin alive someone as vulnerable as Caitlin.

“I can’t believe he’s taking that nerdy Yank to our ball,” Piper complained.

Layla nodded. “Agreed.”

“Forget about it,” Paige said. “One date with her and he’ll realize how positively lame she is. Probably tell her to piss off before night’s end. Let’s go. It’s getting late.”

The girls arrived at Penhaligon’s, where they selected expensive bottles of perfume. Each girl paid with her parents’ credit card.

Layla saw it first.

A mobile phone sitting unattended on the counter.

She snatched it. Opened it. Her eyes popped. “It’s Jack’s!”

Piper swiped it from Layla. She started snooping through Jack’s phone
—his e-mails
…
his text messages
…

Piper glared at the screen, her lips thinning into blades.

“How romantic. After the ball Jack and Caitlin are going gallivanting about in some graveyard.”

Piper suddenly broke out in a crooked smile.

“Why the grin of sin?” Layla asked.

Piper slid the mobile into her purse. “Suppose Caitlin never shows up at the ball? I’ll have Jack all to myself” Her smile sharpened. “And Caity will have the fright of her life.”

All three girls exchanged conniving looks.

“You’re positively evil,” Layla said.

Piper admired her manicured nails and smiled.

The clock on Caitlin’s
nightstand showed 4:22 p.m. as a slanting rain pelted her window and Royal Street below. The Kingshire Masquerade Ball was scheduled to start at 7:00 p.m., and Caitlin still had to dream up some edgy makeup concepts for her zombie bride get-up.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a bright red chili pepper.

Caitlin’s eyes widened. Natalie was dressed in a life-size chili pepper costume. The bulbous bell of the pepper was a brilliant red, and she wore bright-red tights and a matching long-sleeve, bright-red shirt underneath. It started at the shoulder and fell to a point at the knees. The brown stem of the pepper was provided by a turtleneck.

“I thought you were going to dress up as Alice in Wonderland, with striped stockings?” Caitlin asked.

“I saw this in the costume shop,” Natalie said. “It looked more … exciting.”

“Exciting? You’re a freaking vegetable.”

“Technically, I’m botanically classified as a fruit. Wanna help me zip?”

Caitlin’s cell phone beeped. Another text from Jack.

“Out!” Caitlin shouted at Natalie.

Natalie pouted as she left, and Caitlin sat on the edge of her bed to read the text:
Let’s skip dance & go strght to graveyard. Besides, I’m not 2 fond of
dancing.

Caitlin was sort of delighted. No need to fake a sprained ankle, and she’d spend a spooky and kind of freaky fun evening with Jack. However, there was still the issue of the cemetery in Guildford. She didn’t have her magic wand to wave. Then again, she’d have Jack by her side and she wouldn’t have to go to her grandpa’s burial site. Only Charles Dodgson’s.

She texted him back:
Awesome. Meet u under clock at Waterloo station?

Her phone chimed again:
Cant.
Need 2 run errand 4 mum. Meet u @ mount cemetery. 7:30. Or should we cancel?

A terrible dread punched Caitlin in the stomach. It winded her, in fact. Not because she was afraid of gathering up ghouls in a graveyard. Not at all. Caitlin had seen all the
Scream
horror movies. Seen
The Shining
four times.
World War Z
twice. And she devoured vampire books like Skittles.

The solo train ride to Guildford is what caused a wrecking ball to swing in the pit of her stomach. What if she got panicky midtrip, when she was far from home?

Just then, Natalie busted into the room again.

Caitlin had to act fast. She’d be crushed if Jack canceled. So she did the most daring thing she had ever done in her entire life.

She texted him back:
C u 7:30!

Am I not adventurous?

She stole a peek at the four corners of her ceiling.

One, two, three, four.

Fear was strange. Caitlin was comfortable standing in front of a class or an auditorium and giving a lecture on any given topic. But dancing at parties and worrying what others thought about her always brought forth stifling insecurities.

On a dare, she’d have no problem running through … say … a pitch-black graveyard in the middle of the night. But the thought of having a panic attack in the school hallway or in the middle of a mall far from the nearest exit, or at a party—well, just the anticipation of potential panic would altogether make her knees go soft, make her beg for relief. Caitlin wouldn’t have wished that type of terror even on Piper. No one understood how crippling it could be.

The first time she had an attack, she thought she was dying or losing her grip on reality. The anxiety ran her over like a bus. She had to run to her dad, panicked and wild-eyed, not knowing what was happening to her. Her dad gave her half a Xanax—she only wondered later why
he
had any—and said it was just her nerves.

Just my nerves?

What did that even mean? What nerves was he referring to? Where were these evil nerves located? Why did they suddenly revolt and shut down her breathing and fill her head with dreadful thoughts and irrational fears and cause her to sweat icicles? How did these nameless, indefinable “nerves” exert that much control over her?

Caitlin couldn’t be pissed at her father. Not at all. He was doing his best. He had sent her to bed after she popped half a Xanax. She had hoped she would sleep it off. Yeah. Right.

A fresh roll of thunder stirred Caitlin from her reminiscing. She turned and looked at her window from afar.

The grimy fingerprints were clearly visible, pressed against the pane.

Rain fell softly outside. Raindrops dribbled down the window like tears.

Something gnawed at her. Something drifted at the edge of her mind like a delicate billow of fog as she looked through the window. She couldn’t put a finger on it and she knew that if she tried to, the vapor would dissipate.

She let it go.

A heartbeat later, however, the thought sharpened in her mind. The fingerprints!

Why hadn’t the rain washed them away?

An icy wave flooded over her, making her skin prickle.

She moved toward the window, warily. She reached her hand out. With her pinky, Caitlin rubbed one of the fingerprints.

Please don’t!

It did.

It smudged.

Oh my God!

Whoever left those fingerprints had done so from
inside
her bedroom.