The Harrowing (14 page)

Martin had stopped reading and was just watching the board, fixated on the emerging letters. Lisa and Robin sounded the words out haltingly.

YOU ARE MASS

Patrick moved closer, staring down at the letters forming. Martin spoke harshly. “Go on.”

I CAN USE YOUR MASS

Robin felt someone move beside her and was surprised to see Cain at her elbow, staring down at the board as intently as the rest of them.

YOU CAN USE MY POWER

They looked at one another in the candlelight. Martin hadn’t taken his eyes off the board. He demanded skeptically, “Power to do what?”

ANYTHING

The whole energy of the attic room had changed. Robin could feel it—the intense, curious focus of the five of them, and a sense of almost conspiratorial intimacy from the board. She felt vaguely that they were being lulled, that whatever they were talking to was working toward something. The thought made her cold with fear.

She jumped slightly as Martin leaned forward intensely. “Let’s see what you can do, then.” The pointer moved, and spelled:

JUST

ASK

The five of them were deathly silent. Patrick spoke first, his voice sounding far away. “Move the table.”

Robin looked down with the others as the pointer spelled out the next sequence.

TOUCH IT

They all looked around at one another. The darkness shimmered with candlelight under the slanting attic beams.

Robin wanted to say
NO
, to stop whatever was happening, but she, too, was lulled, almost hypnotized.

Martin reached down and put his hand on the table. Patrick placed his big palm flat on the surface. Then Cain reached out and touched the edge.

The table suddenly slid five feet across the floor.

Robin and Lisa sat frozen in their chairs, empty space between them. The boys stood stupefied, motionless, not breathing.

Martin came to life, marched across the empty space, grabbed the edge of the table, and dragged it back between Robin and Lisa. Robin noticed through the dreamy edges of her shock that he had to use his entire strength to move it, it was that heavy—yet moments before it had slid across the room as easily as if it had been on wheels.

Martin spoke loudly to the air. “No more circus tricks. What can you really do?”

Across the table from Robin, Lisa’s eyes were dilated, her hands clasped in her lap. Robin saw something jolt in her face, a grimace that was almost a sneer, and then, just as quickly, a look of confusion. She put her hands back on the pointer as obediently as a child.

No
, Robin thought.
No more
.

She shoved her chair back, about to get up, and then felt a push in her head, something feeling around the edges of her mind, whispering, trying to get in. Robin felt a stab of revulsion. She pushed back, and the presence was gone.

She looked down in a daze and was jolted to see her hands were back on the moving planchette.
What’s happening?

The guys were crowded up against the table, Martin and Patrick sounding out the letters.

I LL SHOW YOU

The pointer kept moving.

ZE MA SHE UCHAL

LEHAROT LECHA

The words were so utterly unfamiliar, the others were sounding the letters out one by one, but Robin could hear Martin speaking the whole sentence under his breath. “
Ze ma she-uchal leharot lecha
—”

Cain noticed, as well. He turned on Martin. “What’s happening?”

Martin stared down at the board, breathing shallowly, mesmerized. Robin thought with clarity,
It’s getting at him. It’s almost got him
.

Martin spoke with strained excitement. “
Im ata Qlippah, tochi-ach et ze
.”

Robin pulled her hands off the pointer. “
No
.” She stood, facing Martin. “
Stop it.
What are you doing?”

Martin stepped back, looked around at the others, dazed, as if he’d been jerked out of sleep. “Just…asking it what it means.”

Robin stood, breathing hard. They could stop now. She knew they should, but they were so close, so close to knowing.

She sat, ground her fingers into the pointer, stared fiercely at the board. “
I’m asking you
. What are you saying? What do you want from us?”

She looked up at Lisa. Lisa extended her fingers and touched the piece, looking across at Robin.

The pointer trembled under their hands—then went crazy, scraping savagely from letter to letter. Robin and Lisa could barely hold on.

LIFE BREATH WARM BODY BLOOD

The words were flying so fast, Robin was registering them almost subconsciously.

BODY HUMAN BODY BLOOD LIFE ALL OF IT ALL OF IT ALL OF IT

The table began to rock, jumping on its legs, bucking wildly on the planks of the floor.

The girls bolted up from their chairs, springing away.

“Holy shit.” Patrick pulled Lisa backward, away from the rocking wood. Robin backed up and ran into Cain and Martin, who both steadied her. In the center of the floor, the table kept up its wild shaking dance.

The door slammed open behind them.

The table stopped dead. The five of them spun—to see Waverly standing in the doorway.

Robin drew a breath, for a stunned second thinking Waverly had seen the table shaking. But her roommate was totally fixed on Patrick.

“You cunt-hunting scum.” Waverly’s words were slurred. She was swaying slightly, drunk, as she turned a venomous gaze on Lisa. “I knew I’d find you with this whore—and the rest of this trash.”

The five stared back at her, flushed with adrenaline and anger at the interruption.

Waverly turned on Robin, blue eyes flashing fire, Southern accent thick as tar. “And you, with your tail up, panting after him. ‘Oh, Patrick, let me do your paper while I go down on you.’”

Robin felt herself flush with fury. “
Get out
—”

A candlestick with a burning candle flew across the room, barely missing Waverly’s head.

Waverly whirled from Robin, staring at the rest of them. “Who threw that?”

Dead silence.

Behind Waverly on the floor, the candlestick rolled against a stack of dusty old newspapers. The pile suddenly ignited, flames licking up shockingly quickly.

“Look out!” Cain shouted. He leapt to pull Waverly away from the fire and stomped the flames out.

The six of them stood in dazed shock. Then Martin turned coldly to Waverly. “You should go now.” His voice was quiet, deadly. The whole group of them stared at Waverly from their semicircle.

Waverly looked at Patrick. He stood still, as if rooted to the plank floor. She shook her head in total disbelief. “You’re really going to stay here with these freaks?”

Patrick turned on her. Robin saw something twist in his face, though his eyes were as blank as a sleepwalker’s. His voice was a snarl, strangely accentless.

“Fuck off and die, you bitch. Just die—”

Waverly staggered back, stunned, then turned and ran from the attic.

Patrick shuddered, and for a moment he looked dazed, almost sick. He strode across the floor and slammed out after Waverly.

It had all happened so fast, Robin couldn’t move. Cain and Lisa seemed equally paralyzed.

Martin walked forward almost calmly, picked up the candlestick, turned back to the table, pale and resolute. “Come on. Let’s keep going.” He straightened the candle in the holder, fumbled out matches to light it Robin saw his hand was trembling.

Cain stared at him. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Martin’s face was feverish. “Don’t let
her
ruin it.” He seized Robin’s hand, tried to pull her back to the board.

Cain grabbed Martin’s wrist hard, stopping him. He pulled Robin free, stared Martin down. “I don’t know what you’re after, but we’re done.”

He slid an arm around Robin’s waist. Robin leaned into him, releasing herself into his protection. Cain’s arm tightened around her.

Martin stepped sharply back, stared at the two of them, jolted, a look oddly like betrayal.

Cain took Robin’s hand and led her toward the door.
Anywhere
, she thought.
Anywhere but here
. She reached out for Lisa, touched her arm, and Lisa moved obediently with them.

Just before the door closed, Robin caught a glimpse of Martin standing alone under the rafters.

The candles flickered beside the board on the table behind him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The moon sailed through drifting clouds. Wind billowed through trees, swirling leaves on the street outside the dark dorm.

In the black of her room, Robin slept fitfully in her blankets.

Something was moving in the room…sliding through the silence, a thick, animate presence. Its gaze searched the dark, finding and fixating on Robin.

It slithered toward the bed
—

Robin woke from her dream with a gasp—and realized she was not dreaming. Something was on her, a foul dead weight, impossibly heavy, flattening her to the bed. Her whole being recoiled from the presence above her—malevolent, hungry, crushing her down.

She flailed out, thrashing against the weight, convulsing and contorting her body in an attempt to throw it off.

Through her terror, she was aware of a thud from somewhere in the room. There was a sharp slam, and a piercing scream.

Robin pushed upward with all her strength and threw the weight off her.

She gulped for air, able to breathe again, free—and then bolted up at a sudden banging crash.

Then there was total silence.

Robin’s heart was knocking at her ribs; her breath came in panicked gasps as she looked wildly around her in the dark.

The room was empty, the door to the hall wide open. Beside her bed the windows were open, too, the curtains billowing inward.

And then somewhere outside, the screaming started. Voices shouted frantically: “Oh my God.” “Call an ambulance!”

Robin threw back her blankets and jumped out of bed, ran to the window to look out.

Lights were going on all over the dorm; half-sleeping students appeared at windows.

A crowd was forming below, dazed students gathering, running out of the dorm, stopping in horror.

A broken body lay on the bricks in a pool of blood, blond hair spread around her head like a halo, sightless eyes staring up.

Robin pulled back in terror.

It was Waverly.

Robin burst out through the front door, hurried down the steps.

More and more students were gathering in the windy street, wearing nightclothes, in shock. The flashing red lights of electric security carts illuminated the plaza; sirens were screaming from somewhere, approaching. Someone in a uniform started yelling at the students to get back.

Robin scanned the onlookers. She saw Cain first, slim and still in the white lights; then all the rest of them were there, finding and fixing on one another, drifting together through the crowd as if magnetized—Martin, Patrick, Lisa. Robin eased her way up to them through a group of sobbing girls.

Patrick’s eyes were wide, glazed with shock. He stared toward Waverly’s body.

“What happened?” Robin asked numbly.

The four all looked at her strangely in the moonlit dark, lights from the security carts flashing on their faces.

Lisa was the first to speak, her voice low and harsh. “Don’t you know? She went out
your
window.”

Robin jolted. “
What?
”

Lisa looked upward, indicating the curtains billowing from Robin’s and Waverly’s open window.

Robin started to shiver. She had only pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt; the wind was icy and groping.

Cain spoke roughly beside her. “We better get our stories straight.” He was moving slightly, away from the crowd, so they couldn’t be heard. Everyone moved with him, subtly pulling away.

Robin glanced at Cain quickly, swallowed. “We have to tell the
truth
—”

Lisa interrupted, a vehement whisper. “What truth—we were doing a
séance
? And have these backwoods cops fry us for satanic murder?”

Robin looked at her, stricken.

Martin’s face was pale, oddly blank in the moonlight.

Cain turned on Patrick, his voice low and tight. “Where were you when she went out the window?”

Patrick looked at him without speaking. He seemed dazed, his eyes rimmed with tears.

Lisa flared up, protective. “What are you talking about?”

Cain jerked his head toward Patrick. “I want to know where he was when this happened.”

Lisa’s eyes blazed. “He was with me.”

Robin stared at her, stunned. Lisa and Patrick. Lisa looked away from her. “I was scared. I didn’t want to be alone.”

Cain was looking from Patrick to Lisa, his eyes narrowing. “Wait a second. The two of you—

Martin spoke over him, a hoarse rush of words. “We were in the attic. We were doing a psych interview for class. Word association. I say
apple
; you say
orange. Wet, dry. Hot, cold
. We heard screaming and we came down. We never saw the bitch.”

Robin looked at him, startled at the word—when Martin suddenly hissed, “Shut up and
lie
.”

Robin looked toward where he was staring. A couple of uniformed deputies—bulky farm boys with crew cuts, were pushing through the crowd, coming their way.

They bore down on Robin. One of them pointed an index finger at her. “You’re the roommate?”

Robin nodded, swallowing.

“Sheriff wants to talk to you.” The deputy spoke curtly.

Robin looked back at the others. They stood at the fringes of the crowd, staring after her under the moonlight as the deputies led her away.

The halls of the administration building were silent and empty, its long, polished floors gleaming in the dark.

Robin sat in the stark conference room under harsh fluorescents. A deputy watched from the doorway, standing guard as if to keep her from escaping—a physical impossibility, since she felt completely incapable of moving. Across the long table, a hard-eyed sheriff regarded her skeptically.

“You were in the attic?
Working
?”

In her panic, Robin had told the story Martin had fed the group, instinctively realizing that it was important to say they’d been in the attic, in case anyone had seen the lights or had seen them go up there.

She answered as calmly as she could manage. “It was quiet. We were running a test for psych. The TV’s always blasting in the lounge….”
Too many details
, she thought.
Let him ask the questions
.

The sheriff leaned forward. “I thought you were working on a term paper.”

Robin felt faint. She tried to control the trembling in her voice. “A term paper for psych. Based on…word-association tests.” The sheriff sat impassively, waiting. “We…heard screaming and came down. Everyone was gathering outside…and Waverly…she was dead.”

“So you weren’t in your room.” He stared into her face.

Robin faltered, didn’t answer.

“Because someone said they saw you come out of your room.”

Robin forced herself to raise her eyes. She looked at him without answering, her face pale under the sickly fluorescent lights.

The sheriff appraised her. “You and her get along?”

Robin lifted her chin. “No. She didn’t like me.”

“And why was that?”

She spoke with effort. “She’d been suspended from her sorority and, well, she didn’t like being here, I guess.”

“Tough to live with.” Sarcasm fairly dripped from his voice. “And did you like her?”

Robin took a shaky breath. “No.” Her voice was barely a whisper. The sheriff looked at her hard. Robin tried to hold his stare, but she couldn’t. She dropped her eyes.

The sheriff scraped back his chair, stood. His voice was heavy with irony. “Don’t go anywhere, Miz Stone.”

Robin pushed out through the heavy front doors, bursting from the building.

She stopped on the wide portico, staring out into the dark, her thoughts a black storm of noise.

They think I did it.

Did I?

When that thing was on my chest, and I pushed
….

She shuddered, forced her mind away from the thought. Rain brushed her skin, a fine mist that haloed the streetlamps.

Robin froze, staring down at the lights.

At the foot of the wide, pale steps, a shadow stood under a lamppost, holding a duffel bag, waiting.

He looked up toward her; the light caught his face.

Cain.

Robin didn’t know what she felt, but it wasn’t surprise. She went down the steps, stopped in front of him. They looked at each other in the pale wash of lamplight.

“What happened?”

She glanced back up at the one light on in the building. “He didn’t believe me. He told me to stay in town.”

“They always say that.” Cain threw his cigarette away. It exploded in tiny sparks on the wet pavement.

Robin shivered violently. “I can’t go back there.”

Cain took her arm. “We’re not. We’re getting the hell out of here.”