The Haunted (13 page)

“Where does this leave us, Caspian?” I called out softly. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know, Abbey,” he replied. “But whatever it is, I guess we’re not meant to do it together.”

S
HELTER

To look upon its grass-grown yard, where the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, one would think that there at least the dead might rest in peace.

—“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”

The next morning I woke up full of confusion. Last night had really happened. I’d washed mud and grass from the bottom of my feet. Caspian was
real
. And he’d said he loved me… But did it mean anything?
Could
it mean anything? He was dead. That threw a slight complication into the mix.

I got out of bed and knelt down, feeling underneath it for the necklace. Looking at it in the daylight, I traced the red cursive letters, spelling out the name Astrid, trapped forever beneath tiny glass squares. The edges were soldered all the way around with a shiny metal, and a black satin ribbon hung from a small O-shaped ring at the top. The other necklace he’d
given me was tucked away in the back of my sock drawer.

Very slowly, I put it on.

It felt like it belonged. Like it was meant to be there.

The house was curiously quiet when I went downstairs. I couldn’t tell if Mom and Dad were gone, or just sleeping off the effects of last night. I ate a quick bowl of cereal and then scrawled
“Going out. Be back later.”
on a notepad next to the fridge. I didn’t need Mom freaking out if she woke up and couldn’t find me.

I capped the pen and slid it back into the little clip that held it in place, then made my way out the door. I headed up the hill and started walking toward the cemetery. I wanted to see Caspian again. I had so many questions.

The warmth of the sun felt good at first, but it didn’t take long for me to start getting hot and sticky. I pulled my damp shirt away from my back and used my hand to fan my neck.
Almost there. It won’t be much longer now.

I just hoped that I’d be able to find him, or at least a
sign
of him.

The cemetery gates came into view, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Weeping willows, cherry trees, and great oaks lined each pathway. A profusion of fresh green buds and flowers bursting
with new life filled the grounds. A mower sounded, and suddenly I craved the scent of freshly cut grass.

I checked down by the river first. We’d met there so many times that it seemed like that was where he would be. I scanned underneath the bridge, and the top of it too, but he wasn’t there.

I walked slowly through the cemetery, checking behind upright tombs for any type of crawl space or cubbyhole that he might have found. Several mausoleums were next, and I tried each door latch. But they weren’t giving up their secrets, or their dead, and I was forced to move on.

The mower sounds grew closer, and I sat down in a clearing of grass to wait while it went by. Keeping my eyes peeled, I scanned the hillside looking for him. A flash of his clothing, or hair… Caspian had to be here somewhere.
Of course, he has acres and acres of room to roam, and I could
never
run into him.…
I pushed that thought aside.

Something told me to head in the direction of the Old Dutch Church next, so I went that way. There was an old shed behind it. Maybe he would be there.

It was chained, but one of the doors was loose and wobbled back and forth when I nudged it. I stuck my face up to the crack and peered into the semidarkness. There were a couple of tools inside, and some lumpy covered things in the back.
If I could just see a little more.
I wiggled the door on its hinge, and it gave up a new position. Sunlight streamed in toward the back revealing… a bunch of wheelbarrows and one rusty lawn mower that looked like it hadn’t been in service for a long time.

I didn’t know what to do next. Should I wander around some more? Go to the other side? Or maybe I should head back to the main gate. He
could
be over there.…

Sudden movement caught my eye, and I lifted my head. It was a flash of white-blond hair. A figure was standing next to a giant mausoleum built into the hill near Washington Irving’s grave.

Trying
very
hard not to get my hopes up, I watched him walk toward the far side of the cemetery. Once he was just a speck on the horizon, I started up the path to the mausoleum.

Excitement warred with nervousness when I reached the top of the hill and came face-to-face with the crypt. It was a familiar one. I’d passed it every time I’d come to see Washington Irving’s grave.

Glancing around to make sure that no one was watching, I moved closer to the door and put my hand on the latch. It gave way, and the door swung inward with surprisingly little resistance. I found myself in a large, windowless stone chamber. Several stubby candles littered the walls and were burning steadily.

The change in temperature was palpable, and instantly the
sweat puddles on the small of my back dried. I had a sudden flash of fear as I envisioned the crypt looming up and closing around me, swallowing me into the bowels of the earth while I screamed for help.…
Don’t think that!

I shook off the mental image and put out a hand for balance. The walls were cobwebby and I yanked back fingers covered in strings of spider filament. I tried to brush them off on the rough denim of my shorts, but they seemed to stick to everything.

I looked closer at one of the candles. They were dusty and yellowed with age. Clearly from an earlier era. Tracing my finger along the trail of wax drippings, I noticed that they had a heavier, grittier feel than the smooth remnants that dripped off the candles I burned. What were they made of ? Lard? Tallow?

Not all of the candles were lit, but they lined the room from top to bottom, and I realized that they were place markers. One for each person that was buried here. This had been one
large
family.

A giant rectangular stone rested near me, and I pried loose one of the candles. Moving closer, I saw that it was a black marble slab. Even under the thick layers of dust, bright veins of gold shot through the heavy stone and sparkled at me. I swiped a hand over the dirt-encrusted name plaque and read
MONTGOMERY ABBOTT 1759–1824
. With such a large
monument, he must have been the patriarch of the family.

Nodding my head in respect, I paused for a moment. Should I say a prayer or something? Bits and pieces of a Catholic benediction rambled through my brain, but as I tested the words on my tongue, they felt foreign and out of place. I made the sign of the cross instead and whispered, “Rest in peace.” Hopefully Mr. Abbott wouldn’t mind me poking around his family’s final resting place
too
much.

Of course, if he did decide to visit me from the beyond, what was one more ghost?

A small iron bench was to the right of the stone and spread across one end was a… jacket? It had to be Caspian’s. The urge to put it on came over me, and I almost did.…

But then I saw the pictures.

They were drawings of me. Dozens of them. Almost covering the entire wall beside the bench. Black-and-white charcoal sketches that showed me standing, sitting, smiling, frowning, scowling, crying… They were amazing.

I lifted a finger and gently traced the outline of one of them. Who
was
this girl? She was sad and beautiful all at once. It couldn’t be me. I wasn’t that pretty.

A bit of wax suddenly rolled down my thumb, leaving a burning trail. The light dipped and wavered, casting dancing
shadows across the room. Several boxes were piled nearby, and I turned to them, curiosity aroused.

Two of them were overturned and being used like tables, but a couple of smaller ones had stuff inside. I sat the candle down and knelt to take a look.

There was an alarm clock, a picture frame with an old school picture in it, a couple of books, and some clothes. I picked up the frame, feeling a thrill run through me. It was almost like being in his room. I smiled when I saw a copy of “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” sitting next to the alarm clock.
Guess he’s finally gotten around to reading it.

On the nearest overturned box rested a sketch pad, a set of charcoals, and another book. It was one of the Christmas gifts I’d given him. I opened it, flipping through the illustrations of stars.

An abrupt scraping noise had me scrambling to my feet, and the door opened. I dropped the book and the candle. The candle rolled and sputtered once before dying.

Caspian looked surprised to see me. “Abbey?”

I didn’t know what to say. Glancing down at my feet, I saw the book sprawled open with several of the pages sticking out at an odd angle. I bent to pick it up and put it back on the box.

I waited for him to confront me, but he just turned away.

“How did you find this place?” he asked.

“I—I saw you. I, um, sort of came looking for you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just… After last night, I wanted to see you again.”

“So you came in here and went through my stuff ?”

I could feel my face flushing, even in the semidarkness. Then I got mad. “Well,
you
were hanging around
my
house. And…” I glanced over at the drawings. “And you’ve been stalking me!”

Caspian glanced at the pictures too. “You saw those? What did… what did you think?” The hopeful look in his eyes completely threw me off balance.

“I… um… I thought the drawings were really good. I mean, there’s no way I look like that. That pretty, I mean.…” I blushed. Then I decided to be truthful. “It was kind of weird, actually.”

“I’m
not
stalking you,” he said. I raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not!” he protested. “Everything I drew, I drew from memory. It’s kind of like my way of having you here with me.”

At that moment I wished desperately that I still held the candle. I wanted to see his face clearer. Did he mean it? He drew them so that I would be “here”? I didn’t know if that was totally creepy or totally swoonworthy.

“They really are good,” I said again. I didn’t know what to say beyond that, so I waited for him to speak. Instead he moved to the bench and sat down. I just waited. For what, I didn’t know, but now I was here. He had to do
something
.

The “something” he did was ignore me. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Are you hoping that if you don’t talk to me long enough, I’ll turn into a pile of bones like all the other ones in here?” I flung my arms out in exasperation. “Sorry, but it won’t happen.”

“No, I was hoping that if I stayed quiet long enough, you’d take the hint and leave,” he said.

Wow. That hurt. “If you want someone to leave, just tell them.” I turned and started to storm off, then stopped. “Oh, and since we’re on the subject of people leaving, this is a
tomb
, if you haven’t noticed. Not a place for squatters. You shouldn’t be here either.”

I was breathing fast and getting all worked up. The space around me felt like it was growing smaller and warmer every second.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t be here. But I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

The loneliness I heard behind those few short words made my heart ache. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Just leave, Astrid. Please.”

“Why?” I asked him. “I want to stay.”

Caspian shook his head. “We discussed this last night, remember?”

His voice was so hollow. He’d given up already. Rash impulses filled me, and I crouched before him. We were face-to-face, and I could see his shadowed eyes. “Don’t do this, Caspian. Don’t give up on yourself.”

“Don’t give up on myself ?” He laughed weakly. “What is this, an after-school special? I don’t
have
anything to give up on. I’m nothing.”

“That’s not true. If I can see you, that means you’re something. We just have to figure out what.”

“I’ve already played that game, Abbey. When I first met you. It didn’t turn out so well, remember? I broke you.”

I slammed my hand against the hard floor, surprising both of us. “Don’t throw that back at me. I had every right to be upset.”

“And I don’t?”

“Yes! Yes, you do. That’s the point. Get upset. Get pissed off. Yell at me for coming into your place and going through your stuff.
Feel
emotions. If you have that, then you’re
not
nothing.”

Caspian suddenly leaned forward. Startled, I stood up.

He echoed my movement, placing both hands on the bench and pushing himself to a standing position. We were inches apart, and I took a nervous step backward. I don’t know why I did that, but his eyes looked strange.
Wild
. My stomach fluttered. What was he going to… do?

He took a step forward. I took a second step back. He advanced, and I retreated, until I felt a wall behind me. He took another step forward and slid his hands on either side of me. Bracing himself against the wall, he had me pinned in.

My throat went dry, and I swallowed. My legs turned to water, and my clothing felt like it was sticking to me. I swallowed again, burning everywhere. It was so warm in here.