One Hundred Candles [2] (9 page)

ten

Apparently, Mom thought we could find answers through retail therapy. The tiny storefront she parked in front of was a clothing boutique called Potion, and from the outside it appeared to sell nothing but tie-dyed sundresses. The fact that the owners were displaying sundresses in the front windows during February seemed a little too optimistic to me. Or crazy. Or both. But when we walked inside, setting off a gentle tinkling of bells above the door, I realized that Potion was no ordinary dress shop.

“Karen!” A middle-aged woman with long auburn hair came up to us, her arms outstretched. She hugged my mom, then turned to me. “Charlotte, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you.” Her hazel eyes held mine as if she was searching for something, like she was trying to read me.

“Thanks.” Obviously Mom had been here more than once. I figured this was the destination for so many of her mysterious “research” trips.

“Charlotte, this is Beth. She owns the store.”

I half expected a more exotic name, like Esmerelda or Lady Topaz. Beth definitely had a New Age goddess thing going with her flowing green gown and metallic-gold ballet slippers. She led us past the racks of colorful dresses and beaded purses to a doorway at the back of the shop.

“Lisa was here again this morning,” Beth told Mom.

“Really? What did she buy this time?”

Beth opened the door. “More books, a few crystals and some incense.”

We walked into a small room lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and low tables filled with all kinds of New Age stuff. The scent of smoky jasmine filled the space, and I spotted an incense holder smoldering in the corner. Whoever this Lisa person was, she had purchased her books and crystals and incense from this room.

“Charlotte, would you mind giving your mother and me just a few minutes?” Beth asked. I nodded and left the tiny room so they could continue to discuss Lisa and her shopping habits.

While I waited, I browsed the shop. Some of the dresses were too hippie-chick for my taste, but a rack of more formal gowns caught my eye. One, in particular, stood out to me. I pulled the deep orange dress from where it was hanging and fingered the delicate silk. It was a strapless gown with a tightly braided bodice and long, elegant skirt, which was draped in a light netting. I pressed the dress to my body and swirled once. It would be perfect for prom, I thought. The color was unique without being bizarre, and it held a simple kind of grace I loved. Plus, I realized when I checked the tag, it was my size.

“Charlotte?” Mom called from the back room. “We’re ready for you, hon.”

Ready for what? I thought as I placed the dress back on the rack and returned to Mom and Beth. They were sitting at a small round table in the center of the room. When I entered, Mom stood up. “Sit here, hon,” she said gently. She rarely called me hon. Something was up. I sat down across from Beth, who smiled serenely at me.

“I was telling your mother that I sensed something different about you the moment you walked through the door,” Beth began. “I know about the incident in Ohio, but I’d like to hear your version of events, if that’s all right with you.”

I looked at my mom, who had perched atop one of the low side tables. “Go ahead, Charlotte,” she said. “It’s fine.”

“Okay.” I started with meeting Marcus and ended with the attack. Beth closed her eyes as I spoke and stayed so still that I thought for a second that she had drifted off to sleep. But when I finished talking, she immediately opened her eyes.

“It called itself the Watcher?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“And it said you had pushed back the curtain too far?”

I nodded. “Several times.”

“I see.” Beth closed her eyes again. I glanced at Mom, who just smiled, so I kept my attention on Beth, who was now grimacing as if she was having a bad dream.

“The reference to the curtain is significant,” Beth said, her eyes still shut. “There are people who believe there is a curtain which separates the world of the living from the world of the dead. Some theories suggest that there are times during the year when that curtain is thinner than at other times. Halloween, for example.” She shifted in her chair. “The Watcher is suggesting that Charlotte witnessed something on the other side of that curtain, something she was not supposed to see.” Beth opened her eyes and reached for my hands. I let her take them. “It has something to do with Charleston, I believe, something connected to what happened there in October.”

“But we all saw the same thing,” Mom said. “The Circle of Seven witnessed the lights together. Why was Charlotte singled out by this thing?”

Because I saw a lot more than moving lights, I almost replied. But I didn’t speak. I wanted to know if Beth truly possessed psychic ability or was just using information my mother had already revealed to concoct a credible story.

“Charlotte, your mother mentioned to me that you had clear dreams at that time. The way she described them, it sounded like you were having visions of the past. Is that accurate?”

“Yes.”

Beth let go of my hands. “That may explain it. The dreams were not something the Watcher wanted her to see.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. “But what is this thing and why does it care about what I saw or didn’t see?”

Mom pulled a battered red notebook from her bag. I recognized it as the one she often carried with her on investigations to take notes. “I’ve been researching this for a couple weeks now.” She opened the notebook and skimmed through the pages. “Here. Read this.”

The Watcher is a term used to refer to an entity condemned to reside in between this life and the next. Thought to be a malicious guardian, references to the Watcher have been discovered in texts as far back as ancient Egypt, where people believed that if they stepped too far into another realm, the Watcher would inflict physical punishment, even death.

“What I really want to know is if this Watcher is finished with me,” I said. “Is it stuck in Ohio? Or should I expect an unfriendly visitor at my door soon?” I tried to laugh at this last part, but suddenly the idea didn’t seem too funny.

Beth nodded. “A good question. I sense that, for the time being, this entity is confined, somehow.” She stood up. “I have something that may help you.”

“Help me with what? Why do I need help if this thing is confined?”

Beth placed a necklace on the table. It was a jagged purple crystal attached to a silver chain. “Just because it is confined now doesn’t mean it won’t find a way out,” she said calmly. “It can’t hurt to have extra spiritual protection.”

I picked up the necklace. It was heavy in my hands, the thick chain spilling between my fingers. “It’s amethyst,” Beth said. “Wear it every day. The stone will eventually tune in to your own energy. If this Watcher finds you, the crystal should alert you.”

I was now fully convinced that Beth was a charlatan trying to scare us into buying her jewelry. A simple stone was not going to protect me from demonic energy. I’d be better off hiring a bodyguard or getting a big dog or something. What I couldn’t figure out was why Mom had faith in this woman. Maybe Dad was right. Maybe Mom
had
been brainwashed.

I looked down at the necklace. “How is this supposed to alert me?”

“It depends. Some people say the crystal gets warmer. Some say it vibrates slightly.” She looked at the stone in my hands. “The stone not only tunes into your energy, but it absorbs some of it, as well. The more you wear it, the stronger it will become.”

“Right.” I tried not to sound sarcastic, but the idea of a necklace sucking up energy? I wasn’t buying it.

Mom was still smiling as she came over to me and fastened the chain around my neck. “I’d like to show her outside, if that’s all right, Beth.”

“Of course. Just remember the rule.” She winked and left the room.

“This way, Charlotte.” Mom was pulling at one of the tall bookcases. It slowly swung back, revealing a narrow door.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” We walked out of the dark room and into the cold, bright afternoon. I looked around me. “What is this?”

We were standing in what used to be an alley between Potion and the store next to it. The alley had been blocked off with brick walls, transforming it into an outdoor room. A room that had been renovated into an outdoor oasis. A stone bench sat in the middle of the space. White trellises had been mounted on each of the brick walls. Although it was still winter and most of the plants were nothing more than brown stalks, I could tell that this place was probably beautiful in the spring and summer. A pebbled path led to a fountain gurgling near the back.

“Beth calls it her secret garden.” Mom said. She inspected a corner of the ground. “I planted iris bulbs here in November. They should bloom next spring.”

She sat down on the bench and I sat next to her. “I don’t get it,” I said. “This place is so unlike you. Why do you come here?”

Mom stretched out her legs. “I come here because it feels right to me.”

“Oh.” A cold breeze rattled the slender trees. “Does this mean that science
doesn’t
feel right to you anymore?”

Mom didn’t give me a yes or no answer right away, but she seemed to consider her reply. After a minute, she began to speak. “Do you know how many investigations your father and I have conducted over the years?”

I had no clue. They had been actively researching different phenomena since before they were married, so their case files stretched over two decades.

“A couple thousand?” I ventured.

“My estimate is closer to four thousand.”

“Wow.”

“We’ve traveled all over the world. We’ve searched everything from national landmarks to ranch houses in the middle of nowhere. And most of the time, I think we’ve found proof of nothing more than overactive imaginations conjuring up very spooky stories.” She folded her hands. “But we’ve also come across things that we simply cannot explain. Hundreds of incidents without any basis in science as we now understand it. Your dad believes that, with the right tools, he will one day find logical answers for everything.”

“And you don’t?”

“Charlotte, I’m beginning to believe that some things will never fall within the realm of science.”

I didn’t like that response. It made me nervous. My whole life I’d been told that you couldn’t rely on your feelings alone. Just because you felt scared didn’t mean you should be. Logic outweighed emotion every time. Now my mom was saying that might not be the case, that feelings mattered. It was like trying to solve a math equation with a poem. Some of what Mom said made sense to me. I had experienced something in Charleston, something real.

As I sat in the garden, grappling with my uncomfortable thoughts and fidgeting with my new necklace, Mom spoke up. “I forgot to tell you the rule.”

“The rule?”

“Beth has one rule when you’re visiting her garden—positive thoughts only. This is a happy place.”

“Oh.” I was fresh out of happy thoughts, though. I tried to enjoy the stone fountain murmuring in the corner and the bare, brittle stalks surrounding us, but my mind was tumbling with less than positive ideas. I gave up. “I’m kind of cold,” I said. “Mind if I go inside?”

“Sure. I want to stay out here for a few more minutes, I think. See you inside.”

I left Mom sitting on the bench, her face tilted toward the sun, a peaceful smile on her face. I wished I could be that tranquil. Instead, I felt tense, like I was waiting for something bad to happen.

Inside Potion, Beth was folding tunic tops. She looked up when I entered the main room. “Did you like the garden?”

“It’s very nice.” I looked around for a place to sit.

“There’s a chair over there.” She pointed to a velvet armchair near the racks of dresses.

“Thanks.” I sat down, unsure of where to look or what to do. Music droned from the ceiling speakers. It sounded like wind chimes accompanied by a slow drumbeat. I found myself breathing in sync with the drums.

“It’s great for meditation,” Beth said. I startled a little, surprised to find her standing so close. “The music, I mean.”

“Right.”

Beth sat down on the floor and faced me. “It’s okay to have secrets,” she said. “I understand why you don’t want to tell your mom about what you saw.”

“What do you mean?” If Beth thought I was going to volunteer details about anything, she was wrong.

She cocked her head to one side. “There’s something else around you,” she said, ignoring my question. “There are people in your life who are not what they seem, people who are trying to get you to see things that aren’t really there.”

How specific, I thought sarcastically. Beth sighed. “I don’t mind that you don’t believe me. Skepticism comes with the territory. In fact, a dose of disbelief is a good thing.”

“Sometimes we need more than a dose.”

I didn’t mean to sound harsh, and apparently Beth didn’t interpret it that way. She just smiled her serene smile, then stood up and smoothed out her dress. “I’m very glad to have met you, Charlotte. I consider your mother to be a true friend. And I want you to know that if you need anything, I’m here for you.”

We heard a door open, and a moment later Mom emerged from the back room, looking happy and refreshed.

“I mean it,” Beth told me. “If you ever need a safe haven, call me.” She handed me a business card printed on heavy cream stationery embossed with golden swirls. It read, simply, Potion, with the store’s number beneath it.

While Beth and my mom said good-bye, I puzzled over Beth’s words. If I ever need a safe haven? What did that mean? Who spoke like that? I couldn’t imagine myself calling her in the middle of the night and saying, “Hi, Beth, it’s me. Got a safe haven?”

Mom and I were quiet on the ride home. I napped a little, lulled to sleep by the steady highway and the talk-radio station Mom insisted on listening to. Just voices, discussing local politics and sports teams and things of no importance to me. It was nice, I thought, after we pulled into our driveway and I woke up. Nice to be able to tune out the world and ignore the voices. I wished I could keep it that way.

eleven

Avery needed a favor. “I want you to find out what Jared’s up to,” she announced as she drove us to school on Monday morning.

“What are you talking about?” I was more tired than usual, having been awakened in the middle of the night by the sound of my parents fighting. Again.

I had been too groggy to catch most of what they were saying, but I figured out it was about Mom taking me to Potion. I pulled my pillow around my ears and tried to drown out their voices. When I finally let go of the pillow, it was silent. Then I heard Mom, in a clear, sad voice.

“This isn’t working.”

Dad didn’t immediately respond. I waited, and after a long time, he spoke.

“You’re right. This isn’t working.”

I wished they were talking about the computers or other equipment, but I knew they weren’t. I didn’t hear their voices for the rest of the night. I didn’t hear anything except the sound of my own soft crying.

When I dragged myself out of bed a few hours later, Mom was asleep in her room and Dad was gone. He was always up extra early, but I knew something had changed. I could feel it. No matter what, I vowed, I was going to reach Annalise before the day was over. I sent her a text message after I got dressed, begging her to call me as soon as possible.

“Jared says he’s planning something special for Adam’s memorial,” Avery said, pulling me out of my thoughts. “But he won’t tell me what it is. I want you to talk to him during English class today, see if you can get a clue.”

I had already told Avery about seeing Jared at Giuseppe’s and how he was trying to earn money for whatever it was he was planning. The first anniversary of Adam’s death was a month away, and Jared had been putting in extra hours at work. It had to be something big, but I had no idea what. “Why would Jared tell me anything?”

Avery turned onto the road leading to school. “Because he trusts you.”

“Okay. So I should betray that trust and get him to reveal some secret that I then spill to you?”

“Someone woke up in a bad mood,” Avery mumbled.

“Sorry.” I shook my head. “I didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

“Really?” Avery smiled at me. “Up late talking to Harris?”

“I wish. No, just parental issues.” I hadn’t spoken to Harris all weekend, but he’d left me a few voice mails. I pulled my phone out. No message from Annalise. As we pulled into the senior parking lot, I turned off my cell and stashed it in my purse. I promised Avery I would try to squeeze some information out of Jared, then went directly to English class.

The room was empty and quiet. I slid into my desk and relaxed, letting my eyes close as I listened to the noise in the hallway. Lockers slammed shut, people laughed. It was a normal Monday. I was acutely aware of the jagged amethyst necklace resting against my collarbone. I was still getting used to the weight of it. So far, it hadn’t done anything unusual, not that I was expecting it to. I didn’t like it much, though. First, I had to wear a sling. Now I was wearing a fashion statement. Both had been pushed upon me.

“Rough night?”

I opened my eyes. Jared was sitting on my left. His normally shaggy brown hair was cut short, and his eyes held a clarity I hadn’t seen in a while. Like he had actually been sleeping for once.

“Something like that.” I watched him unzip his backpack and remove his books. “I’m supposed to ask you about the memorial.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Supposed to?”

The first bell rang and people began to file into class. “Avery wants to know what’s going on,” I explained. “Maybe she can help. She doesn’t want you to do it all alone.”

“I’m not doing it alone.”

“You’re not?”

Jared tapped his pen on his desk. “Tell Avery not to worry. I’m doing something special, something she’ll love. She should trust me.”

The final bell rang and Doc Larsen rushed into the room, balancing a cup of coffee on top of a thick stack of books. “The computers are down,” she said, sounding annoyed. The overhead lights flickered. “And apparently, there have been electrical problems all morning, so don’t be surprised if the bell goes off or we lose power for a few minutes.” She stared at us. “It’s not the work of the fabled ghosts of Lincoln High, I assure you.”

A few people snickered, including Gwyn, who was sitting to my right. Doc Larsen began her lecture about dead English poets and I struggled to keep my eyes open. It was a losing battle. I was hoping Annalise had left a message on my cell phone, which was tucked away in my purse. I slowly flipped through my textbook and propped my head up in one hand. My eyes felt heavy, and just as they were closing, something flew across my desk. I immediately sat up straighter and looked down, where a piece of notebook paper lay folded in half. I opened it.

Still want to talk? Come to the office during seventh period. Gwyn.

I nodded and slipped the paper into my folder. Then I tried to figure out what the teacher was talking about. I was too tired to hear much of what she was saying. The steady buzzing of the overhead lights was almost relaxing, and I felt my eyes growing heavy again. The lights flickered a little, then went out. For a couple seconds, we sat in complete darkness. Then the lights came back on, and everyone looked at the ceiling as if answers could be found there.

“Just an electrical glitch,” Doc said. “Back to work.”

She was writing on the board questions for us to answer, due at the end of class, when we heard it: the unmistakable ring of a phone coming from someone’s bag. My first thought was that Annalise was trying to reach me. But it wasn’t a familiar ring and I was sure I had switched off my phone.

We all looked at our teacher, who had stopped writing, her dry-erase marker in midair, and waited for her to start yelling about school rules and not having a phone in class.

Before Doc could pinpoint the source of the jolly ringing, though, another phone went off. And another. And then, within a few seconds, it sounded as if dozens of phones were ringing at the same time. It was so strange to hear all that mechanical music playing at once that even Doc looked panicked. She must have thought what we were all thinking: something awful had happened, some national tragedy that was forcing our parents to immediately contact us.

She nodded. “Go ahead.”

The entire class immediately reached down to pluck their cell phones from wherever they were being stowed. The music stopped when we flipped our phones open, but we could hear cell phones in other classrooms, all of them alerting their owners to the same thing. I opened my phone and checked the screen. Four little numbers stared back at me: 0413.

“Hello?” I heard nothing but static in reply, and a glance around the room told me that everyone else was getting the same thing.

“Is it a pin number?” someone asked.

“Looks like one of those satellite numbers. They come up as four digits.”

“Mine says zero four one three.”

Doc Larsen took control of the situation. “Obviously, there has been a technical malfunction,” she said as she returned to the board. “I know that when I turn back around, I will not see a single electronic device exposed in my classroom.”

Before I put my phone back in my purse, I checked the ringer. It was definitely off. I looked over at Gwyn, who gave me a puzzled look. “It’s off,” she whispered.

“Mine, too.”

I could tell by the way people were examining their phones that this was the case with nearly everyone. It shouldn’t have been possible for them to ring. And even if the ringers had been on, how could the same number dial them all at the exact same time? It was beyond weird.

I don’t think anyone heard a word of the English lecture after that. Even our normally composed teacher looked rattled. I tried hard to think of something, anything, that could trigger all the phones at the same time. Nothing scientific or logical came to mind. I would talk to my Dad as soon as I got home from school, I decided. He would have a rational theory.

The bell rang and the class erupted into excited chattering about the cell phone incident. “Do you really think that was a technical glitch?” Jared asked me as we moved toward the door.

“I’ve never heard of a glitch like that,” I admitted. “I’ll ask my parents, though. They might have some ideas.”

Harris was waiting for me outside the classroom. I no longer required his assistance, but he made a point to stop by at least once a day. I saw him right away, holding his phone and frowning at the screen.

“Did your phone go off during class?” he asked.

“Yep. Everyone’s did.”

Gwyn brushed past me, but Harris stopped her. “What about you? Did your phone go off?”

“Yes. And I have no idea what’s going on.” She gave him a hard look. “No idea.”

The way Gwyn stressed the last part seemed odd to me. Harris looked confused. Then Gwyn walked past us and Harris smiled like nothing was wrong.

“We should get going,” he said. “Don’t want to be late.”

“Sure.” We didn’t chat much as we walked to my next class. All around us, people were looking at their phones and talking about what had happened. Apparently, the entire school had been affected.

My next few classes were filled with a kind of nervous tension. Everyone was waiting for something else to happen, and rumors were already circulating about another demon dog sighting, phantom footsteps, and strange music coming from the gymnasium. And while people claimed to be creeped out, their smiles suggested that none of this was truly scary. It was like going to see a horror movie with a big group of friends: it was fun to be frightened, but when you were part of a large, noisy group, you knew nothing sinister was going to happen.

Finally, it was the last period of the day. I had AV, and I knew I would be able to get out of class for a while to see Gwyn and it wouldn’t be a big deal. I ran into Noah as I headed down the hallway, and he walked in step with me.

“Think Morley will let Bliss cover the phone incident?” he asked.

“I doubt it. If he does, it will be short and sweet.”

“Bliss was saying something last week about wanting to set up a camera in the gym. I guess there was another ghost sighting.”

“Wonderful. I thought she wasn’t buying into the hype.”

“I don’t think she is,” Noah said as we entered the class room. “But it makes a great lead story. She’s always complaining that no one really watches the school news. A ghost sighting would definitely get everyone’s attention.”

We went to our computer station and Noah began looking over the checklist Bliss had left for him. While he did that, I pulled out my phone and was thrilled to see I had finally received a message from Annalise. “Hey!” she said in her voice-mail message. “I’m done with classes for the rest of the day, so call me when you get this.”

Noah was still reading the checklist and warming up his computer and I didn’t see Mr. Morley around yet, so I went ahead and dialed my sister. She picked up on the first ring.

“Hi, Charlotte. Sorry I haven’t been in touch more. My course load this semester is crazy.”

I skipped the hello and went right to the problem. “Mom and Dad are a mess and weird things are happening at school.”

“Wow. Not the greeting I was expecting.”

“I’m serious, Annalise. Everything’s screwed up right now.”

“Just a sec.” She said something away from the phone. “Sorry. Mills is here.”

“Of course.”

She disregarded my bitter tone. “How can I help?”

“You can start by calling me back more often.”

“Done. Now why don’t you start at the beginning? Tell me what’s going on.”

Mr. Morley walked into the room. “Class meeting!” he announced.

“I have to go.” I sighed.

“Charlotte, I want to talk with you, I really do. I’m going to call you tonight, okay?”

“Sure you will.” I snapped my phone shut before Annalise could finish saying good-bye. Then I joined the rest of the class, including Noah and Bliss, at the front of the room. Mr. Morley sat on the edge of his desk.

“Lots going on around here,” he said. “Some of you have complained that we’re not covering the, uh,
happenings
in the school news.” He looked at the two freshmen boys who started the demon dog website. “I had a meeting with Principal Carter. He thinks—and I agree—that this is all an elaborate prank. We’ve decided not to give the person doing this the satisfaction of seeing his work broadcast every morning. Extra attention will only encourage him.”

“Or her,” Bliss added.

Morley nodded. “Or her. Or them.” He folded his hands. “After today’s episode, though, I think I should warn you—this person is now in serious trouble. They have crossed a line and damaged school property. So if anyone knows who dismantled half the building’s electrical system, it would be very wise of you to let me know.”

The computers turned off with an audible sigh. “Not again,” Morley mumbled. “Let’s see if we can get these up and running.” He assigned tasks to the guys he knew were techno geeks. Everyone was occupied with something, so I turned to Noah. “Think you can manage without me for a few minutes?” I asked. “I need to run an errand.”

“Go ahead. I doubt we’ll get anything done today.”

The main office was buzzing with a flurry of stressed-out secretaries trying to reboot their blank computers. I spotted Gwyn standing behind the attendance counter, reading a book.

“Hey,” I said. “Is this a good time?”

She closed her book. “Sure. One sec.” She told one of the secretaries that she needed to run to her locker, and I followed her into the hallway. We walked over to the vending machines outside the empty cafeteria.

“So you work in the office in the morning and at the end of the day also?”

Gwyn shrugged. “It was either that or take two electives I didn’t need.” She wasn’t really looking at me. Instead, her eyes kept drifting over to the vending machines, like she was trying to decide if she wanted to buy a snack.

“Look, I’m sorry about being kind of cold to you.”

“It’s okay.”

Gwyn was still staring at the vending machines. “Harris said I should try harder,” she mumbled. She finally looked at me. “Is that what you wanted to talk about? Harris?”