The Night Walker (Nightmare Hall) (13 page)

Thunk! Thunk!

Shafts of pain stabbed her neck as her head snapped back and forth with each blow.

Quinn fought to avoid losing control of the car, wavering dangerously on the highway.

Suddenly, the lights swerved away from her rear window as the car behind her pulled out and forward.

Quinn held her breath. He was leaving! He’d given up his stupid game and was going on his way. She kept her eyes on the road, waiting for the other car’s headlights to pass her by.

They didn’t. Instead, they remained parallel to hers, so that she was looking directly at two sets of high beams, side by side, illuminating the road ahead of her.

Her head swiveled to the left. A blue sedan. Big. A big, blue sedan. A figure in a hooded black cape sitting behind the wheel, face hidden. Matching the speed of the big blue car to Quinn’s smaller one, staying even, not moving ahead an inch.

It was only a two-lane highway. If another car came from the opposite direction… .

Oh, God. What was going on?

Quinn yanked her eyes back to the highway. Calm, calm, stay calm, she warned again. Keep the car steady, keep it on the road.

Thunk! The big blue car slammed into the side of Quinn’s car.

She screamed, and clutched the wheel, fighting hard to keep the car on the road.

Thunk!

This time, her wheels were driven onto the berm, a rough, gravelly surface. The car teetered, its wheels spun. There was a drop-off on this side of the road, a deep drainage ditch below, waiting to swallow her up.

Terrified, Quinn struggled with the wheel and managed to pull the car back onto the road.

Thunk!

“Stop it!” she screamed. “Stop it! What are you
doing
!” Too panicked to think, she slammed on the brakes, hoping the blue car would be taken by surprise and race on ahead of her. Her tires screeched on asphalt as the car skidded to a halt.

But the other car, too, screeched to a halt. Sat in the middle of the road, slightly ahead of Quinn. Then raced backward, tires screaming, until it was alongside Quinn’s car.

Her breath coming in shallow gasps, Quinn turned to look again.

And although she could still see nothing but the draped black hood, looking like Death itself, Quinn knew, with stunning clarity, that the driver of the car was Ivy Green.

Ivy wanted her gold ring back. And she didn’t care what she had to do to get it.

She would even kill for it.

No, Quinn thought, no. Absolutely not.

She turned back to face the highway, gripped the wheel ferociously, and stomped down hard on the gas.

Her car propelled itself forward with a shriek of protest from the tires.

And Ivy was right behind her.

Sobbing with fear, Quinn hunched over the wheel, her hands fused to it, her eyes burning into the road ahead of her and darting every few seconds to her sideview mirror. Scarcely breathing, she watched as Ivy sped off after her, caught up, pulled alongside… .

“Oh, no,” Quinn cried softly, “oh, no …”

The blow, when it came, was fierce. There was no fighting it. Quinn tried, but it was hopeless.

Thunk!

Her teeth rattled from the blow. The steering wheel shook, the tires whined, and the car spun out of control, careening not down the ravine but crazily forward and then sideways, into the oncoming lane, blessedly empty of traffic.

Quinn struggled, but the car was not about to be reined in. It dashed across the highway, heading straight for the thick woods on the other side of the road.

Giving up, Quinn’s hands flew up to protect her face.

The last thing she saw before the moment of impact was Ivy’s big blue car in her rearview mirror. It was right behind her.

Then, with the grinding, painful sound of solid metal against solid, hard-packed earth, the car crashed head-on into the steep embankment.

The upper part of Quinn’s body was flung into the steering wheel. Her seat belt saved her from anything more than a stinging blow to the forehead.

But before she could lift her head, there was a second crash. The jolt came from behind, as Ivy lost control of her own car and crashed into Quinn’s.

Because her head was already down, and because the impact was from the rear, Quinn felt only a jarring shock. She wasn’t going to get out of the car now. Ivy wouldn’t let her.

But when she turned around, expecting to see Ivy jump out of the car and come racing toward her, she saw nothing through the rear window but a crumpled car with a driver slumped over the wheel.

The impact had knocked Ivy unconscious.

You may only have a few minutes, a little voice warned Quinn. Get out of the car
now
and run for your life.

Quinn ripped herself free of the seat belt, prayed her door hadn’t been jammed in the collision, and shoved on it.

It opened.

She jumped from the car and, without looking over her shoulder, ran into the woods.

T
HE WOODS WERE DARK,
and thick with underbrush. As she ran, Quinn could feel burrs and brambles ripping at her jeans, slowing her down. It was uphill all the way, and the ground was rough and uneven under her feet.

Dark … it was so dark. Quinn’s heart sank as she peered through the trees, praying for a light, a house, something … something to save her.

She saw nothing. Nothing but a thick wall of black tree trunks straining toward the night sky.

Where on the highway had they been when she crashed? Somewhere between school and town, but she couldn’t be sure where. She’d been so panicked, so frightened as Ivy repeatedly bashed her car.

Where
was
she? Were there no houses? There had to be a house. Had to be …

The ground was muddy from the recent rains. Twice, she slipped and almost went down. Grabbing a tree limb saved her.

The woods were so thick, so devoid of light. No moon overhead. Nothing to see by.
Why
wasn’t there a house with lights?

“Qui-inn, oh, Qui-inn,” a singsong voice called from somewhere behind her. “Don’t worry, Quinnie, you’re not alone. Ivy’s here.”

And a moment later, in that same singsong voice, “And I’m
coming
for you, Quinnie.”

The voice was followed by thrashing sounds in the underbrush behind Quinn. She couldn’t tell how
far
behind.

Ivy wasn’t going to give up.

Neither am I, Quinn thought grimly, and attacked the wooded hill with renewed vigor.

When she first spied the house sitting on top of the hill beyond the woods, she thought it was empty. Huge and dark, its porch slightly tilted to one side, it looked abandoned.

But as she reached the edge of the woods, she could see it more clearly, looming up out of the darkness.

And she knew, then, where she was.

The huge old dark house wasn’t abandoned. A light shone faintly from a back room, and a wooden swing and fat pots of flowers decorated the long, wide front porch.

She had seen this house before.

Nightmare Hall.

“Quin-nie! Quin-nie, I’m right
be-hind
you,” Ivy sang out.

Quinn hesitated at the edge of the woods, beyond the curving gravel driveway leading to Nightingale Hall’s front porch. Ivy couldn’t know
exactly
where she was. Only that she was in the woods somewhere. Screaming to wake someone up inside the house would give away her exact location. Ivy would be upon her before anyone could save her.

And if Quinn ran to the front door and began pounding on it, what were the chances that someone would awaken and get downstairs ahead of Ivy?

What time was it, anyway? Maybe the house was empty. Maybe everyone was out, instead of asleep. If that were true, pounding on the door and screaming would accomplish nothing but leading Ivy straight to her.

As Quinn, remaining in the shelter of the trees, moved stealthily on up the hill, she saw another building some distance behind the house. A barn. Dark.

If she moved carefully and quickly, she could come out of the woods right beside the barn and slip inside.

Hiding in the barn could buy her time, keep her hidden while she figured out what to do. There could be tools in there, something to fight with if Ivy found her.

If
she figured out what to do …

“Quin-nie! Hey, Quinnie, wait up! I have lots to tell you. You won’t believe … .”A shrill, high giggle pierced the darkness.

Taking a deep breath, Quinn darted out of the woods and dashed over to the barn.

She slipped inside, closed the door behind her, and stood with her back to it. Trembling violently, her eyes quickly searched the dark, shadowy barn, seeking a weapon to use against Ivy, if she came.

Who was she kidding? Of
course
Ivy would come.

The barn was empty. No tools, no wooden-handled hoes or rakes or shovels to wield against Ivy. Nothing but a few wads of old straw on the wooden floor. A hasty search of a set of wooden shelves leaning precariously against one wall yielded nothing but an old spittoon, a handful of straw, a pair of kerosene lanterns, and a half-empty bag of potting soil.

“Quin-nie!” The voice was much closer now. “Quin-nie, are you hiding from me? Ready or not, here I co-ome!”

If there
was
someone inside Nightmare Hall, would they hear Ivy’s voice calling? Get up out of bed, go to the window, and look out?

No. Ivy wasn’t calling out loudly enough to penetrate the thick walls of an old brick house.

As her eyes became accustomed to this new darkness, blacker even than outside, Quinn spotted a ladder. A tall ladder, made of thick wooden rungs and rails, leaning against … against a high wooden platform of some kind.

A hay loft. No longer in use, but useful as a hiding place?

There could be an old pitchfork up there to use as a weapon.

“Quin-nie!” A note of impatience sounded in the voice. “I haven’t got all night, Quinnie. Where
are
you?”

She hadn’t seen Quinn go into the barn?

But she’d figure it out soon enough. She’d realize that since she hadn’t heard pounding on the doors of the house, hadn’t heard Quinn screaming for help, her prey hadn’t gone to the house. That only left the barn.

Ivy would figure it out.

And come for her.

Quinn made her way through the darkness to the ladder and scurried up it. When she reached the top, she thought for a second about pushing it backward, away from the loft. But Ivy would simply put it back, wouldn’t she? Better to spend the few moments remaining looking for a weapon of some kind. A pitchfork, a shovel …

Although she got down on her hands and knees and felt with her hands along the wooden floor, scratching her fingers on stiff, old straw, she found nothing. Nothing …

I made a big mistake, Quinn thought, sitting back on her haunches. I shouldn’t have come in here, and I shouldn’t have climbed up. Now I’m trapped up here. Ivy will come in and I won’t be able to get down, to fight her on equal footing.

She had just moved to the edge of the ladder to climb back down and find a better place to hide, when the door began creaking open.

Quinn held her breath.

Creak … creak …a sleek, dark head peered around the door.

“Well, hi, there, Quinnie!”

Quinn could hear the smile on Ivy’s face.

Closing the door firmly behind her, Ivy said, “This is such fun, Quinnie. I love hunting for things. I always did the best at hide-and-seek. And
this
time,” she added, moving on into the barn, “guess what my prize is?”

Quinn closed her eyes, despairing. She already knew what Ivy’s prize was.

“You, Quinnie!
You’re
my prize!”

“I
VY?”
Q
UINN’S VOICE WAS
unsteady.

“Right you are.” Ivy glanced around the barn. She walked over to the wall of crude wooden shelves and removed an old kerosene lantern and a box of matches. Then she turned to gaze up at Quinn again. “Well, my goodness, Quinnie,” she said, “whatever were you thinking, climbing up there?
That
won’t do you any good.” She tilted her head. “Sort of backed yourself into a corner, haven’t you?” She laughed. “Or a hayloft.”

Quinn sagged back on her haunches. Ivy was right. How was she going to get down, with Ivy barring her way? “I know who you are,” Quinn said heatedly. “And I know what you’ve been doing. The stink bomb, attacking Reed and Jake in the car. You … you deliberately set out to hurt people who were in love. Because you were angry about what happened to Gunther. And then you made it look not only like Tobie had done those things, but like she was trying to frame
me
for it. Very clever, Ivy.”

Ivy sat down on the straw-strewn wooden floor and lit the lantern, holding the burning match aloft for an extra second or two as she peered coldly up at Quinn. “Well, congratulations, Nancy Drew. Gunther would be proud of you.”

“Your precious Gunther is a criminal!” Quinn said sharply.

“No, he isn’t. And all I have left of him is that ring!” Ivy cried, her voice harsh. “Toss it down here, now!”

Quinn could feel the hard gold circle in her jeans pocket. She left it there. As long as she had something Ivy wanted, she had something to bargain with.

“Gunther Brach and I were supposed to be forever,” Ivy went on. “That’s what the ring meant. And if it hadn’t been for Tobie and her precious Peter Gallagher, Gunther would be with me now, instead of rotting in some hellhole. By the time he gets out, I’ll be an old woman.”

Quinn, watching her with frightened eyes, thought how different Ivy’s face looked in the eerie green-yellow glow from the kerosene lamp. So twisted … so full of hatred. Where was the laughing, friendly Ivy they all knew?

“I’ve figured out everything else,” Quinn said, “but I still don’t understand why you stole a sheet of Tobie’s paper and wrote that letter to Simon. What good did it do you when Simon and I stopped seeing each other?”

Ivy smiled slyly. “Well, I hate to admit it, but that was probably a mistake. It wasn’t part of my plan. In fact, I hadn’t come up with my plan then. Not the whole thing. It’s just that you and Simon were really making me sick. I couldn’t stand to look at you. So I decided nipping your little romance in the bud would keep me occupied while I was trying to put the finishing touches on my plan to get Tobie.”