Brighter, a supernatural thriller (16 page)

When he got there, they were waiting for him. Owen, Zane, Craig, and Mason. Half of Garrett wanted to run. He knew they weren't there just to have a friendly chat with him. Half of him knew that running wouldn't matter. They'd get him no matter what he did. And the part of him that had been socialized by American movies told him that it was really cowardly to run away. So he walked up to them, a huge friendly smile plastered on his face.

"Hi guys," he greeted. "You looking for me?"

None of them smiled back. Their faces were stony; their arms crossed over their chests. Well, except Mason. Mason hung back, his hands shoved into his pockets. He stared at the ground and traced circles in the gravel of the parking lot with the toe of his shoe. Owen stepped forward. "I don't know what it is with you, Garrett," he said. "I guess you're just a stupid son of a bitch."

Garrett shrugged, still grinning. "Sometimes I am, I guess."

"You gonna get in your car, drive out of this town, and never come back?" sneered Zane.

"Don't believe I am," said Garrett. His grin seemed stuck in place. He couldn't wipe it off.

Zane and Craig moved forward with lightning speed. Zane seized Garrett's wrists and wrenched them together behind his back. Craig grabbed Garrett by the collar and slung Garrett against the closed trunk of his own car.

Garrett attempted to struggle for a second, but Zane was holding Garrett's wrists and pinning him against the car. Craig slammed Garrett's head against his back window and forced Garrett’s cheek against the glass. Owen lowered his own face until he was face to face with Garrett.

"Why are you staying here?" Owen asked.

Garrett didn't answer. He didn't owe them shit. They could beat him up as much as they wanted, but he wasn't talking to th—

Suddenly, Owen jammed his thumb against Garrett's eyelid and began pushing Garrett's eyeball into his skull. Pain jolted through Garrett’s skull.

"Why are you staying here?" Owen repeated.

"Ramona," gasped Garrett. Was his eye even going to work after they were done with him? Jesus.

The pressure on his eyeball abated, but Owen didn't move his thumb away, so Garrett could feel the heat of Owen's finger against his skin. His breath was starting to come in frightened bursts. Garrett was terrified he wasn't going to be able to see when Owen removed his finger.

"Ramona," muttered Owen. "What do you two talk about? What did she tell you about us?"

Garrett considered playing dumb, but he was so terrified about his eyesight, that he caved. He guessed that according to movie hero standards, he really was a coward. "She told me she saw Angelica after she died," he said.

Owen said something over Garrett's head to someone else. Garrett couldn't see because he was facing the wrong way, and anyway, both his eyes were squeezed shut against Owen's fingers. "I thought you took care of that. I thought you said she'd never say anything to anyone."

"Guess I was wrong," said one of the other guys.

Owen pressed on Garrett's eye again. Garrett yelled.

"Hey," said the same voice. "It's not his fault."

Owen removed his thumb. Garrett cautiously opened his eyes. He could see! His eye was aching, a dull thud in his head, but he didn't seem to be permanently damaged. He was so caught up checking his eyesight, that he didn't see the fist coming. It collided with his jaw. Someone yanked him up by the scruff of his shirt, and the blows rained down on him from all directions. Finally, when they were done, they tossed him on the ground, bleeding and bruised. "Just fucking leave town," Owen spat at him.

And then they were gone. Garrett wondered why he
didn't
just leave.

* * *

When Ramona's phone rang again, just as she was walking out the door of the admissions office, she didn't even look at the phone to see who was calling. She just snapped the phone open and snapped into the receiver, "I'm leaving right now, okay?"

Garrett hadn't been lying about the fact that he was a little overly demonstrative. It was annoying. When she hadn't shown up at the library when she'd said she would, he'd called immediately. He did it all the time, calling her if she were even five minutes late. He said it was because he was worried about her. After all, Blair had locked her in a basement, and Dawn and Cecelia had threatened her. So it made sense that Garrett might worry about her safety. But Ramona was starting to feel a little suffocated. Maybe Garrett was right. There was something wrong with him. Sure, it was better to have a boyfriend who cared. But there was a line that Garrett was coming dangerously close to crossing. He was starting to seem, well, possessive.

"It's Mason," said the person on the phone.

Shit. "Oh," said Ramona. Had she ever given Mason her phone number? "I thought you were Garrett. I'm sorry. What's up?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm coming out of the admissions office," said Ramona. "Why?"

"Okay, I'm across the street. I'll come over and meet you."

"What?" But Mason had hung up. Ramona looked around, trying to locate him. In a few seconds, she saw him walking across the street. She waved, but he didn't wave back. Once Mason was at her side, he took her by the arm and led her down the street a few feet. He pulled her into a small space between two buildings. They stood on the sidewalk between them.

"What's going on?" Ramona demanded. She wrenched her arm away from him and rubbed it. His grip had been a little tight.

"You told Garrett about Angelica." Mason's eyes flashed.

Ramona backed into the wall of the building. "Well..."

"You promised me you wouldn't tell anyone about that."

"I didn't for a really long time. What's wrong, Mason? Why—"

"Did you tell anyone else?"

Well, she'd told Heather, but she didn't know if she should tell him that. He seemed so angry. "No?"

"Is that a question?"

"What's going on?"

Mason ran his hands through his hair and looked away, sighing heavily. "I'm doing my best to keep you from finding that out, Ramona. Good God. Do you have any idea how much danger you're in?"

"Well..."

"Don't answer that. Listen to me. You must tell me the truth. Have you told anyone else?"

Okay, she'd tell him the truth. "I told my best friend Heather."

"Heather? Do I know her?"

"She lives in Freeburg."

"Oh," said Mason, visibly relieved. "Good, good. You didn't tell anyone else in Elston besides Garrett?"

"No. No one would believe me, anyway."

"Please don't ever mention it again to anybody." Mason shoved his hands into his pockets and fixed Ramona with his gaze. "You really need to be careful, Ramona. Things are not what they seem to be around here."

"You mean there aren't a bunch of monsters of some kind wandering around in Elston, pretending to be river hippies?"

"Monsters?" Mason raised his eyebrows.

"Well, I don't know what they are. But they aren't exactly normal, are they? And you know something about it."

"Stop asking questions, Ramona. You have no idea what could happen to you. We're not talking getting locked in a basement or being knocked around a little by Owen and Zane. We're talking your life, okay. Do you understand? Your life could be in danger."

"Who's getting knocked around by Owen and Zane?" Ramona asked.

Mason swallowed and looked at his feet. "I tried to stop them." He looked back up at her. "I'm not entirely sure what it is you see in that guy anyway."

That guy? "What happened to Garrett?" Ramona demanded. "Why do you care what I see in him, anyway?" Was Mason jealous?

"Listen, Ramona, it's a message. They're trying to tell you to stay away. To leave it alone. You need to promise me that you'll stop trying to figure this out. Just let it go."

"What happened to Garrett?"

He sighed. "I'll take you to him."

She followed Mason to Water Street, to the spot where Garrett's car was parked. Garrett was lying on the gravel parking lot, beside his car. She knelt by him, tentatively touching his face. Was he unconscious? God. But Garrett turned his face to her. She gasped. Blood was pouring from his nose. Both his eyes were swollen and red. His lip was split open. She looked up to ask Mason if she should take Garrett to a hospital, but Mason wasn't there anymore. Wonderful.

"Hi," said Ramona, and she realized that she was crying.

Garrett reached up to touch her face, to brush away her tears. "Don't cry," he whispered.

He was lying there all ruined and beaten up, and he was telling
her
not to cry? How could someone care so much about someone else? About her?

"Can you stand?" she asked.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Garrett said, moving to stand up. But when he stood, he winced. And when he tried to take a step, he groaned.

Ramona rushed to support him, putting his arm around her shoulder.

But Garrett moved away. "No," he said. "It's really okay. I just need to get cleaned up. I'm fine."

"You aren't fine," said Ramona. "Those fucking bastards." She looked at her boyfriend's bloody face. They were going to pay. No way was she going to take this lying down. No fucking way.

Chapter Twelve

Mason slouched in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room in Blair's and Owen's apartment. He didn't like this house. It had been Fiona's at one point, for maybe a year, but before that, Ben had lived here for almost five years. There were too many memories attached to the house, especially concerning Ramona, who'd dated Ben for the final year he'd lived here. Mason couldn't be in any of the rooms without picturing her streaming through to the kitchen to get more beer or lying on the floor and asking questions of the ceiling. He hated it here. He was convinced Blair had moved in just to get under his skin.

Sometimes he felt like if he stayed in an in-between place, like a doorway, he wasn't actually in the house. He was nowhere, in a no-man's land that didn't belong to any part of the apartment or the world. He wouldn't have come if it hadn't been for the fact that Blair demanded he do it. She wanted to talk to him. She always wanted to talk to him. Mason wasn't really sure why anymore. Things that had happened in the past between the two of them were the past. Blair didn't seem to think anything ever changed. He wondered if she even lived in the same reality he did anymore. Maybe it was just that Blair was intent on making sure everything stayed the same, and Mason had finally given up. Things changed. Mason wanted to change with them. Mason wanted to die.

"Would you come into the living room?" Blair snapped. She was lounging on the couch wearing a sports bra and a long flowing skirt. Blair's arm slinked out to snatch her glass of red wine from the coffee table. She took a slow sip.

"Can't you talk to me from here?" Mason asked. Sometimes the sight of Blair made him sick. Especially when he considered the botched up way they'd killed her. Blair could say whatever she wanted. Blair's death. Angelica's. Neither had worked out well. Things
were
changing. They were all losing their touch. Maybe they
were
dying.

"Honestly, I have no idea why you're such a pussy lately," Blair said. "What's so goddamned scary about the living room?"

Mason shoved off from the doorway and sauntered into the living room to face her. "You know I hate this apartment." But apparently, no matter how much he despised her, her ribbing still got to him, because she'd gotten him to move to where she wanted him.

He sat down in an armchair opposite her. Put his feet up on the coffee table so that he jarred it and spilled her wine a little.

Blair made a face. "You're so juvenile," she said. She got up and swept into the kitchen. "If you hate me so much," she called from the other room, "then why don't you just leave for a while?" She reappeared with paper towels to clean up the wine spill.

"Nobody leaves," Mason said, "not unless they want to die."

Blair laughed, placing the paper towels over the puddle of wine and watching the absorbent paper soak up the purple liquid. "Funny. I thought that was exactly what you did want."

She had a point. But Mason couldn't leave. Not yet. Because...well, because Ramona was still here. And if he left, he didn't know what the rest of them would do to her. Time to switch tactics. He wanted out of this apartment. The best way to do that was to let Blair have her say. Once she said whatever she wanted to tell him, he'd be able to leave. "Why'd you want me to come here, anyway? You want to talk to me about something?"

Blair nodded. She leaned back on the couch, wine glass in hand. "Owen said you left without helping the guys with Garrett."

"Not my style. You know I don't go in for that physical stuff. There's just so much blood. It's messy."

Blair laughed again. "Funny. You wouldn't know that to look at Angelica's body."

Mason pondered several responses and then decided not to say anything. He simply hadn't buried the body deep enough. But Blair was crazy. Angelica wasn't any worse off than most of the bodies that were buried beneath Elston. In fact, by most standards, he'd been kind.

"Listen, it shouldn’t be lost on you that we have a problem."

"A problem?"

"Garrett and Ramona. It was bad enough when the two of them were apart, but now they're together, and they're figuring things out."

"Are they really a danger to us? What do you think they'll do, go to the police?"

"You know as well as I do that our existence here depends on the library, and Garrett is
working
there."

It had never really occurred to Mason that it was possible that they could be stopped. "How would Ramona and Garrett kill us?"

"There are ways," said Blair. "It's flimsy magic that holds it all together."

"I didn't think there was much magic left in the world besides the flimsy kind." Faced with obliteration, Mason wondered if he really did want to die after all. Maybe what he meant when he said he wanted to die was to whither and die. He didn't know if he wanted to be snuffed out of existence in one intense moment.