Read Experiment in Terror 05 On Demon Wings Online
Authors: Karina Halle
Tags: #Fantasy, #Horror, #Romance, #Adult, #Mystery, #Suspense, #Goodreads 2012 Horror
Of course, everyone else knows I’m not entirely normal –
hence my nickname “Scary Perry.” They al know about the
Experiment in Terror show (as does the occasional
customer who comes in) and they love to tease me about it.
Shay believes in ghosts, so at least my manager doesn’t
think I’m crazy, but I can tel the others don’t know what to
do with me sometimes. Stil , they invite me out to the bars
after work and to local band showcases (which is where I
was planning to go with Ash tomorrow night), so I’m slowly
feeling like a regular girl.
Very
slowly.
I locked the bathroom door behind me and scrunched up
my nose at the smel . I knew it was up to me to clean the
bathrooms most of the time, but no matter what I did, I
couldn’t get rid of this foul, rank odor that emanated from
the wal s. It wasn’t that it smel ed like piss and shit or
anything like a normal washroom. Rather, it smel ed like
something was rotting away. Sharp and acrid, almost tangy
in a revolting way, like spoiled meat.
I stopped breathing through my nose and ran the tap until
it was cold enough and began dabbing a wad of paper
towels on my forehead, cheeks and eyelids, careful not to
smudge my makeup. I was wearing a lot of it these days,
feeling uglier than normal thanks to the purple rings under
my eyes and a strangely grey complexion. Though. I
wondered how much of it was actual y a manifestation of
how I felt. Did I look like crap because I felt like crap, or did I
feel like crap because I looked like crap? Ah, the mysteries
of life.
I took in a deep breath through my mouth, the smel
penetrating slightly, and I tossed the paper towels into the
wastebasket behind me. I leaned forward and looked
closer at myself in the mirror. I felt like I had changed so
much in the past few months, Iike I’d gotten older or
something. I had faint crow’s lines now. Wrinkles at the
corner of my eyes! I was only 23 - what the hel !
A breeze blew at me from the side, tickling my bare
arms and flipping up the bottom of my apron. I looked
behind me at the closed door, not sure where the wind was
coming from. It was chil y and moving fast enough to make
the paper towels wave back and forth from the dispenser.
I frowned, confused. But we were in a drafty old building
in downtown Portland. Too bad the breeze wasn’t clearing
the terrible smel away.
I looked back at myself in the mirror, strands of my hair
flying in my face. I pushed them behind my ears, just in time
to hear a smal
poof
from behind me.
I spun around.
The garbage can was on fire.
Yel ow flames were rising out of the mound of crumpled
paper towels, moving in the wind, reaching for the ceiling
with mesmerizing fingers.
I was stunned but not for long.
Fire!
I let out a smal , awkward cry and looked around me for
the closest thing to put it out. There was nothing, just me,
the paper towels, the sink and the toilet.
I didn’t want to run out of the washroom and cause an
alarm, though. The last thing I needed was a coffee shop ful
of panicked people.
Think, Perry, think.
I had an idea.
I turned on the tap, took off my right shoe and fil ed it with
water.
It wasn’t my first choice, but in the name of saving face, it
was my only choice.
It only took two refil s before the fire was out and the
garbage can was reduced to a wet, smoldering pile. I
peered down at it, afraid to touch the mess, wondering how
the hel the fire got started in the first place. It’s not like I
threw a cigarette into the bin. It had been a paper towel,
and a wet one at that.
It was beyond weird but I couldn’t devote too much time
to worrying about it. There was a knock at the door and I
was holding a toilet-water soaked shoe in my hand. I had
bigger issues here.
“Just a minute,” I cal ed out, trying to sound calm, like
everything was fine in bathroom land, and stuck my shoe
under the dryer while I soaked up the inside with more
paper towels. When it wasn’t as sopping wet, I put the shoe
back on my foot, wincing at the cold, squishy dampness.
Ugh.
I took a step, the water seeping into my sock. Double
ugh.
I unlocked and opened the door to see a patron looking
at me strangely. She eyed the bathroom suspiciously
before stepping inside. I must have been making some
pretty odd noises in there. Also, there was a trail of water
dripping behind me.
I walked careful y back to the counter, trying to lessen the
squish, squish, squish
of my footsteps. I smiled broadly at
Ash and took my place beside him, ready to man the
machines.
“Perry, what, uh…”
“Don’t ask,” I told him, and turned to face the rest of my
shift.
~~~
The next morning was grey, dreary and mild, as per usual
for the Pacific Northwest. I didn’t have to work, so I laced up
my running shoes and hit the trails down by the Columbia
River. Aside from the first few weeks of December, when I
gorged myself on Christmas cookies and eggnog in order
to restore some feeling of happiness in my body, I’d
actual y been pretty active and working out almost every
day.
Stil , the weight that I had shed from my bootcamp
sessions in November came back on. It was only about five
pounds or so, but on a short body like mine, I could tel the
difference. My ex-trainer and one-date wonder, Brock the
jock, cal ed me a few times wanting to go out again, but
aside from my heart and mind being too fragile, I felt like I
would have just disappointed him if he saw me. It’s such a
girl thing to do, to not be interested in a guy but stil want
them
to be interested, but it’s the truth.
At least running cleared my mind and made me feel a lot
more energized. Ever since Seattle I’d been dealing with
the restlessness I used to get, that nagging urge to be
anywhere but here. I felt lost and directionless and my mind
always wanted to go back to the happier times, the times
when I felt everything was possible. But it wasn’t that way
and I had to keep my eye on the prize. I needed to move
out, move far away, and start finding myself al over again.
My life had reverted to the way it was before I met Dex in
that lighthouse. Though, perhaps I was a bit wiser.
After I left the river bank and hit the long street that led
me back to my house, I slowed, then stopped and stretched
my muscles by a row of roadside bramble. I was
surrounded by bare oak and cherry trees and the dul ,
frosted mint color of grass in late winter. My neighborhood
consisted of family homes and retirement ranchers with an
overal Victorian vibe and almost everyone, my house
included, had at least a half acre of land or more. My lot
was simple since my mom wasn’t much of a gardener, but
some houses had beautiful y intricate gardens, while others
had swimming pools or even chickens. One neighbor had a
bunch of pigs, thanks to the generous zoning laws.
I was bending over for my toes in a compromising
position when the neighbor with the pigs walked past with
Cheerio, her gorgeous chocolate lab. I smiled at the dog
with my head between my legs and waved awkwardly at his
owner. I was pretty sure the dog smiled back, looking as
happy as ever. How could he not be happy; he lived with a
bunch of pigs.
I straightened myself up slowly and walked along the
road toward my house, watching for any signs of exercise-
induced dizziness. It was when I was almost at the start of
my parents’ long brick driveway when I noticed a car idling
on the side of road, facing the opposite way. It didn’t look
out of place, as it could have been someone waiting for
Ada, or just someone who had taken a wrong turn down our
street (people often got lost on their way to the mountains).
It could have been anything and anyone but my legs
stopped moving and my heart slowed with a lurch. My body
recognized the car before I did.
It was a little hatchback and though I couldn’t see who
was in the car, I could smel the person, the cloud of pot
smoke and perfume that emanated from the half-open
window. The car turned off and my heart thumped anxiously
at the sudden silence. The door opened and long legs clad
in camel-colored breeches and black leather riding boots
swung out and landed on the asphalt with a faint echo.
I stood there, red-faced, sweaty and confused, as
Rebecca Sims got out of the car and gave me a shy smile.
I could only blink. So I blinked some more.
“Hiya Perry,” Rebecca said, shutting the car door,
causing the cloud of smoke to dissipate in the damp air. I
expected her to approach me but she just leaned against
her car and looked around her at the sprawling acreages
and spacious yards. “You’re almost in the country here. It’s
lovely.”
I stil couldn’t say anything. Part of me wanted to throttle
her, even though what happened with Dex and me wasn’t
her fault. If anything, she had dropped hints that perhaps
hooking up with him or tel ing him my unrequited feelings
wasn’t the best idea. I’m glad now I only did the former, and
not the latter. I would have never recovered my pride.
She smoothed her glossy black hair behind her ears,
showcasing a row of diamond skul earrings that went
surprisingly wel with her elegant ensemble, and turned to
me.
“I know I shouldn’t have just shown up like this,” she
explained in her smooth British accent, “but I didn’t know
how to get a hold of you. I tried cal ing you.”
“I changed my number,” I said, my tongue loosening.
“And I tried emailing you.”
“I got a new email.”
A smal smile teased her magenta lips. “Wel , anyhow,
Ems and I are here for the weekend just visiting her folks.
They live in Beaverton. I thought I’d escape from her mother
and come see you. Hope that’s al right.”
I folded my arms and let out a short breath of air.
“No. It’s not al right, Rebecca,” I told her, looking her
straight in the eye. “There’s a reason why I didn’t want
anyone to get a hold of me.”
“I know. I figured. And I understand, I real y do. I’d do the
same if Emily…wel , I just wanted to see you.”
“Wait,” I said, holding up my hand. “How did you know
where I lived?”
She dropped her eyes to the ground. “A little birdie told
me.”
A giant flame of anger erupted deep inside my chest.
“Is he here!?” I exclaimed, my voice shooting through the
morning calm. My fists automatical y curled up into tiny,
hate-fil ed bal s and I craned my neck at the car to see if
anyone was sitting in the passenger side.
“No, no he’s not here,” she said, eyeing me nervously. I’d
never seen her nervous before. I must have looked ready to
punch her in her pretty face. “He’s at home. He’s in Seattle.
It’s just me. I promise.”
“So he sent you here?” I sneered.
“No,” she said and walked toward me. She stopped a
few inches away, a sympathetic tilt of the head. “This has
nothing to do with him. At al . I came here because I wanted
to know if you were OK.”
“Oh, how thoughtful,” I said with a rol of my eyes.
“I was worried about you. Al of us were.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Al of us? Who is ‘al of us’?”
She bit her lip, scraping off a tiny bit of lipstick from the
surface, and looked at my house. “Perry, look, can we talk?
Maybe inside? You must be freezing your knickers off.”
I was only wearing my jogging tank top and pants and
the sweat on me had cooled, but I’d never felt warmer. Stil ,
part of me did miss Rebecca’s company and did yearn to
talk to someone different for a change. She also looked a
bit awkward, standing on the side of the road like a jilted
lover. It would have taken a lot of guts for her to just show up
at my house, randomly, especial y when she knew I didn’t
want anything to do with that life anymore.
I nodded reluctantly and headed up the driveway,
hearing the clip clop of her boots as she fol owed.
Inside, the house was even warmer thanks to the stone-
wrought fireplace in the living room that was giving off a