Believe, page 5
“Where are we going? Is there food? I’m hungry.”
“Yes, yes, you can eat when we get there,” Gabby said, pulling her along and rolling her eyes.
She dragged her all the way across the school, up the stairs, and into the balcony of the auditorium, leading her to the farthest corner seats. Below they could see a few students puttering around doing things on the stage, some racks of costumes and half-painted sets.
“What is this?” Lesley demanded when they were sitting. When Gabby gestured for her to be quiet, she lowered her voice. “What’s going on, Gab?”
Without speaking she reached into her bag and pulled out a crumpled wad of paper, smoothed it out, and handed it to her. There was writing on it—the kind where someone had cut out random letters and words from other things and glued them together to spell out a message.
If you want to see some real ghosts, come to the Band Room at midnight on Halloween night. The back door will be unlocked. Tell no one. You won’t be disappointed.
“Well okay,” Lesley said slowly, handing it back to her. “So…you gonna go?”
“Of course!” Gabby hissed. “But I want a second set of eyes, and that means you.” She smiled at her, batting her eyelashes playfully. “That’s why we had to be here to talk about this; it says to tell no one, but I had to tell you!”
Lesley reached into her lunch bag and pulled out a bag of potato chips. “Mmm-hmm. Don’t you think you could’ve waited until, like, after school?” She crunched a mouthful of chips loudly, and Gabby hushed her again.
“What do you say? Are you in?”
Lesley took her time answering, eating the chips slowly, with a contemplative look on her face, as if weighing the pros and cons carefully…just to see Gabby squirm a little. “I guess,” she grinned, wadded up her bag and threw it at her. “But this time, my cooperation will come at a higher price. I’m talking cookies,” she added, poking Gabby in the shoulder for emphasis, “homemade, a whole batch---and no nuts!”
Halloween was on a Wednesday. Gabby had the cookies ready as promised, but Lesley didn’t go with her. An early wave of flu was making the rounds, and Lesley came down with it Monday night.
“Are you sure you should do this alone?” Lesley croaked over the phone when she called Gabby with the bad news on Tuesday. “Do you think it’s safe?”
“Of course it’s safe!” Gabby scoffed. “Don’t worry about me. Even if I do actually see a ghost this time, it can’t hurt me---it’s just a spirit, right?”
“Well, okay,” Lesley’s voice was fading to a whisper. “But be careful, Gab.”
She was careful. She didn’t want her parents to know she was sneaking out, so she helped out with trick-or-treaters early in the evening, washed up the dinner dishes, and watched some TV with her little brother, all just as usual. At 10:00 she said good night and went through her usual bedtime routines before closing her bedroom door—and locking it.
At 11:30 she climbed out her bedroom window, scooted along the edge of the roof, and lunged out for the large apple tree growing at the corner of the house. In a matter of moments, she’d clambered down and was flitting from shadow to shadow down the street toward school.
She got there with ten minutes to spare before midnight. She saw no one, heard nothing, and was generally satisfied that everything was normal and deserted. She kept her phone in one hand, ready to video anything that might pop up…or call 911, which ever seemed most appropriate.
The Band Room was actually a small set of buildings behind the auditorium. The back door was, as the note had said, unlocked, and Gabby opened it quietly and sidled inside.
She was in a hallway with no light. She stood still, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Finally, she was able to make out dim shapes at the far end of the hall and began moving toward them. She found her way to a door and up a short flight of steps into the main room. She stood at the outer edge, taking in the rows of chairs and music stands, the instruments in their cases lining the walls and stacked on shelves, straining her eyes to see if anyone else was there, too.
“Are you the reporter?” a raspy whisper came from the other side of a shelf of instruments. Gabby squinted into the darkness, trying to see who had spoken.
“I got a note, telling me to come here,” she said softly. “It said I’d see a ghost.” She cleared her throat and lifted her chin. “I’m with the WHS Gazette, investigating a tip,” she added.
“Are you alone?” the voice asked.
“Yes.”
“Follow me.” Now she could see a tall, skinny shadow emerge from behind the shelving, and gesture for her to walk across the room toward another doorway.
“Where are we going?” Gabby asked, but the boy---she could tell it was a boy, he was wearing skinny jeans and some kind of black jacket, with a stocking hat covering his head—merely gestured for her to follow again and disappeared through a door into the dark beyond.
He led her down a hall, through another door, and into a stairwell. It seemed like about two stories of downward steps, Gabby thought, and began to feel less sure of herself. “The note said the ghost would be in the Band Room. Where are you taking me?”
The boy looked over his shoulder at her but kept going down. “It’s in the basement,” he said, a little breathlessly. “We have to get underground to see it.”
Gabby checked her phone and was alarmed to see that it was showing no bars of reception. She could still take pictures and video but calling for help was no longer an option. As if sensing her unease, the boy said, “Don’t worry. Like the note said, you won’t be disappointed.”
Gabby squared her shoulders and told herself that this was what investigative reporting was all about: life on the edge, taking a risk for a great story.
At the bottom of the stairs there was another door. The boy held it open for her to walk through. Gabby hesitated for a moment, then stepped past him. The room she entered was dimly lit. It appeared to be an access room to plumbing and heating ducts, maybe furnaces and things like that. Gabby took a few steps forward, ducking under on low pipe, and turned to the boy.
“Okay, we’re here,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Where’s this ghost?”
The boy just grinned at her and nodded, as if he was agreeing with her question, which made no sense—but then she felt her elbows grabbed from behind. She dropped her phone in surprise and stumbled backward.
“Oh, don’t worry, we’re going to have a ghost down here,” a new voice, high pitched and shrill sounding, “we’re going to make one!”
Pining her arms behind her so tightly it hurt, the new person dragged Gabby across the floor and shoved her down onto a chair. She could feel him tying her wrists behind her back, probably to the chair too.
“Stop!” She cried. “Let me go! People know I’m here---I work for the Gazette! You can’t do this—” she tugged at her arms, but the bindings were firm. The first boy was standing a few feet away, grinning that crazy grin and still nodding. “They’ll come looking for me—you’re going to get into big trouble!”
“Don’t worry, precious,” the voice behind her murmured. “The only thing left for anyone to find will be a ghost---yours! And isn’t that what you’re after, anyway? You want to expose all the ghosts of WHS?” He laughed and finally stepped into view.
“Pete McKinney,” Gabby said, recognizing him. “Aren’t you in enough trouble already?” She was angry now. “After that stunt you pulled at the Homecoming game, you’re not supposed to come within 500 feet of school property!” She had been the one to report on the incident for the paper, since Ms. B didn’t think her own column was enough to keep her busy. During the first half of the game, Pete and his buddies had snuck into the locker rooms, put dead cockroaches in the cheerleader’s clothes, and smeared feces in the football player’s things. It wasn’t the first time Pete had been in trouble, but it was the final straw for the WHS administration. He’d spent a week in Juvenile Detention, was banned from campus and expelled from the school district. “What’s going to happen now that you’re adding kidnapping to the list of your offenses---and on school property?!”
Now the first boy had stopped smiling, and was shaking his head in a negative direction, walking toward her slowly. Pete just shrugged and kicked the side of her chair, jolting her and pushing her a foot across the floor. “You can see how worried I am,” he drawled. Looking at the other boy, he said, “Get her in position. I’ll get the stuff.”
Gabby was pushed deeper into the underground room, until she found herself in a large empty space with markings on the floor. She realized it was a pentagram, and there were all kinds of symbols written inside and around it, in red and black.
“What is this?” She demanded, trying to sound angry instead of terrified. “Some kind of Satanic thing?”
Pete laughed quietly and reappeared holding a bag, which he placed on the floor outside the drawing and began unpacking: a variety of knives and small statues and candles came out, and she could feel the hot, shallow breath of the other boy on the back of her neck.
“We’re gonna live forever,” his whisper rasped against her ears. “Ain’t no one gonna be able to touch us!” And she felt the disgusting sensation of his tongue running across the back of her neck.
“Get off me!” She shouted.
“Shut up, Jimmy,” Pete snapped. “Come here and help me.”
Gabby watched as the bizarre pair placed various things around her, her eyes returning to the glinting edges of the knives which still lay on the ground. She was trying to be smart and calm, trying to think of some way to get herself out of this, but her brain kept shrieking This wasn’t supposed to happen! There was supposed to be a ghost! They’re going to kill me!
“So what are you guys trying to do?” She finally managed to ask, hoping to keep them talking until a better idea occurred to her. “Is this because it’s Halloween?”
Pete smirked at her and picked up one of the long blades, running his thumb down the length of it slowly.
“I mean, if I’m about to die, I’d like to know why.” At least I can sound like I have a backbone, she thought, even if it’s actually turned to jello.
“You’re our ticket,” Jimmy piped up from behind her. “You’re gonna pay the price so we don’t have to.”
“I said to shut up,” Pete snapped at him. “Get over here and light the candles.” Pete paced around the edge of the circle while Jimmy clumsily lit the five white candle stubs on the ground, panting shallowly and wiping his hands on his pant legs periodically. When they were lit, Jimmy scuttled backward into the shadows, and Pete lifted his arms, threw his head back, and closed his eyes, tracing shapes in the air with the blade he held while chanting something that sounded like a really screwed up version of Latin.
“Really? Magic words? As if that stuff really means anything!” Gabby heard her voice shaking, but wanted to do something to stop him, distract him.
“Shut up bitch,” Jimmy’s scratchy voice came from across the room, and then she heard a scuffling sound, and a thud. She would’ve tried to see what had happened, if he’d tripped or something, but her full attention was on Pete now, who’d stopped chanting and was stepping into the circle, only a couple of feet away from her, blade pointing straight at her throat.
“The blood price is demanded! Mortality for immortality! O Dark Powers we offer our sacrifice!” Pete kind of moaned the words in his squeaky voice, and even as scared as she was, Gabby felt the urge to roll her eyes. Why do I have to be killed by two morons?! she thought.
Suddenly the air around her moved. The blade, mere inches from her neck, dropped onto the ground, clattering loudly. All but one of the candles blew out. She could only see the shadowy outline of Pete standing in front of her. “What the—” she heard him say, then a soft, wet sound, like someone biting into a watermelon. The room seemed to hold its breath. Then, almost simultaneously, she heard the unmistakable sound of Pete’s body hitting the ground, and felt her wrists being freed from the chair.
“Who’s there?” She said, rubbing her wrists and standing up slowly. “Hello?” She didn’t understand why, but somehow this felt more terrifying than knowing she was about to be some loser’s blood sacrifice.
“You’re Roxanne Chance, the girl who writes for the school newspaper.” It was a deep voice, a man’s voice, and then out of the shadows emerged the person who belonged to it.
“Mr. A? Is that you?” Gabby felt weak with relief, and almost sat down again. Mr. A---short for Annakim—was a math teacher, new to the school that year. Everyone knew about him, even if they didn’t have him, because he was considered hot by most of the female population. “What are you doing here?”
Mr. A laughed gently. “I was working late and saw these two sneaking around the parking lot when I went to my car.” He had a slight accent, exotic and unidentifiable. His voice was comforting. He held out his hand to steady her, pulling her away from the circle and the chair. “It’s a lucky thing I decided to stick around and see what they were up to.”
“Am I ever glad you did!” Gabby smiled and felt a surge of energy—no doubt the adrenaline was hitting now that the danger was past.
Then she looked down at Pete.
He lay there, a small pool of blood growing beneath his head, his body twisted in an awkward pose, his eyes staring glassily.
She looked to where she thought Jimmy should have been. There was a lump that might be him, lying on the floor, which also looked suspiciously wet around his head.
Smile gone, she pulled her hand away from Mr. and took a step backward.
“Did you kill them?” her voice sounded very small and frightened in her own ears.
Mr. A looked regretfully at the two shadowed bodies and nodded sadly. “Yes,” he said quietly, “I’m afraid so.”
Gabby felt greater horror now than she had all night. What was he going to do to her now? She was a witness! He’d have to kill her too. Her eyes darted past him, to where she thought the door was, though she was slightly disoriented and not sure she could actually find it.
Mr. A put his hands in his pockets and dropped his chin a little, looking at her from under his dark eyelashes. “I’m not going to hurt you, Roxanne. Do you go by Roxy?”
She shook her head. “Gabby, it’s really Gabby.” She felt mesmerized by his look, couldn’t look away, couldn’t not answer.
“Gabby, then.” He smiled at her warmly. “You are safe. I’m going to take you out of here, and you’ll be all right.” He took a few steps in the direction of the door. “Why don’t you follow me?”
For the second time that night, Gabby found herself following a stranger through dark rooms, up dark stairs, and into the Band Room. She was shaking so badly by the time they reached the rehearsal hall, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep walking.
As if he knew this, Mr. A turned around and said kindly, “Why don’t you sit down for a minute.”
Gabby sat in the nearest chair. She shook her head and tried to move her brain toward something like coherent thought. She didn’t feel safe yet, but she was beginning to hope that Mr. A wasn’t out to kill her, too.
“What happened down there?” She blurted out at last, the only words she could form, though it seemed to her a thousand questions were crowding into her brain at once.
Mr. A crossed the room to the upright piano that was there and leaned on it gracefully. He smiled at her.
“I will tell you,” he said, and Gabby felt herself relaxing, letting the chair back support her. Her breathing slowed. She didn’t know what was happening, but she felt that there was no danger, although safe isn’t quite the word for this situation either, she thought. “I will tell you because you have a fire inside that drives you to seek answers, and those fires are never lit for no reason.” Gabby blinked a few times, trying to untangle what he’d just said.
“Thank you, I think,” she ventured, and he laughed.
He smiled, and his teeth showed, like pearls in moonlight. “Those boys were trying to harness dark forces in order, I believe, to transform themselves into vampires. They were going to use your blood in their misguided attempt.”
“How do you know?”
“I recognize the symbols, their props. They’re common enough among fans of the dark arts, and those who fall for the pablum that passes for how-to websites and instruction guides.” Gabby opened her mouth to ask another question, Why do you know this? but he continued talking. “It would not have worked. You would have died. They probably would have made themselves ill. I think it altogether likely that Peter would have turned on Jimmy, and killed him as well, in the end.” He shook his head. The small movement seemed filled with a bottomless grief that Gabby didn’t understand. “Their paths were destined for disaster, and now are ended.”
“But, sir, you ended them. Don’t we need to call the police or something? I mean, you were saving me, I doubt you’ll get in trouble or anything. I’ll be your witness.” Gabby leaned forward, forearms on her thighs, and tried to see his face clearly. The whole room was hazy, and she couldn’t focus her eyes.
“No, we will not call the police.” He smiled again, and Gabby felt the waves of his sadness wash over her. “Let me explain,” he held his hands out, palms up, and she felt as if he had pushed her back into her chair, but gently. She sighed as her shoulders drooped back onto the chair. The noisy, confused part of her brain shouting at her that something was wrong was muzzled and distant.
“In case you have ever doubted it,” Mr. A began, “there is evil. There has always been evil. It reaches every corner of creation, it infects every part, it knows no boundaries. Where there is light, there are shadows,” here he held up a single finger, “but never forget that the light is there, too.
“Some of us have been created, since the Great Beginning, to fight the evil, to protect its would-be victims, to guard against its spread where ever possible.” Here he bowed his head and Gabby could hear a soft exhale, again filled with sorrow. “The battle is eternal. But we who are tasked with it are not defenseless. We are given arms, of a sort, and use them where we must.” Now he wrapped his arms around himself, as if for comfort. “But with power comes responsibility, and always there is a price to pay.”
