The Haunted Air (47 page)

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Authors: F. Paul Wilson

BOOK: The Haunted Air
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Giving in to an impulse to stop in at Gia's, Jack stepped off the N train at the Fifty-ninth Street station and walked over to Sutton Square. He hadn't seen her all day.
He had a key but he knocked anyway. And knocked again when she didn't answer. Odd. He saw lights on inside.
He used his key and entered. When he saw that the alarm was armed he knew Gia wasn't home. He punched in the code and stood in the foyer wondering where she could be. He'd told her he wouldn't make dinner so maybe she'd gone out by herself. But dinner alone in a restaurant … that wasn't Gia.
He stepped down the hall to the kitchen to see if she'd left him a note but stopped cold when he found one of Lyle's Ifasen brochures on the counter instead.
Aw, no. She'd promised she'd stay away from that place. Had she … ?
He picked up the phone, hit REDIAL, and eventually heard Lyle's outgoing message.
That was it. She was heading for Menelaus Manor. Could be there already.
Jack dashed for the front door. He didn't like this. Gia wouldn't break a promise without a damn good reason. Something was very wrong.
Gia hesitated when she saw a shadowy form standing halfway down the walk to the Kentons' front door. The sky was moonless but the house was lit up like they were throwing a party. The figure was too small for Jack or Lyle or Charlie.
Then she spotted the dog.
Oh, no, Gia thought. Not her again.
“Please stay away,” the woman said in a voice at once rapid-fire and lilting. In the faint wash of light from the house Gia could see she wore an orange sari tonight. Her nostril ring had been replaced by a tiny jeweled stud. “I
have warned you before but you did not heed. This time you must listen.”
Gia's annoyance got the better of her as she edged past. She needed to be in that house, not out here listening to a woman who probably wasn't all there.
“What's your problem? Why are you telling me this?”
Her silver-ringed fingers twisted the long braid hanging over her shoulder. “Because that house is dangerous for you.”
“So you've said, but nothing's happened.”
The woman's black eyes bore into her. “If you won't think of yourself, think of the baby you carry.”
Gia stumbled back a step, shaken. “What?” How could she know? “Who
are
you?”
“I'm your mother.” She spoke flatly, as if stating the obvious. “A mother knows these things.”
That clinched it. Gia's mother was in Iowa and this woman was crazy. She had her going for a moment with that remark about the baby … a wild lucky guess.
“Thank you for your concern,” she said, backing away toward the house. Never confront a crazy person. “But I've really got to get inside.”
The woman stepped closer. “Oh, please,” she said, her voice thick with anguish. She clutched her braid with both hands now, twisting it back and forth. She seemed genuinely upset. “Don't go in there. Not tonight.”
Gia slowed her retreat as something within her cried out to listen. But she couldn't stay out here when Jack was inside, possibly hurt. She forced herself to turn and run up the steps to the porch. The front door stood open. Without knocking she hurried inside and closed it behind her and felt …
… welcome.
How odd. Almost as if the house were overjoyed to see her. But that wasn't possible. Just relief from escaping that crazy woman.
“Hello?” she called. “Jack? Lyle? Charlie?”
Then Gia heard the music. She couldn't catch the words
but it sounded upbeat and soulful. And it was coming from the cellar. She hurried down the steps but stopped when she saw the devastation. It looked like a bomb had gone off—the paneling and concrete floor had been torn to pieces and scattered; random holes had been dug into the dirt beneath.
And then she saw Charlie, huddled against the far wall. He looked terrified and was gesturing to her. His mouth worked, forming words, but he wasn't speaking. What was he trying to tell her? He looked crazy. First the Indian lady, now Charlie. Had everyone gone mad?
“Charlie? Where's Jack?”
The music stopped. And with that Charlie started to speak.
“Gia!” He pointed to her left. “She—it's here!”
Gia stepped into the cellar and gasped when she noticed the little girl.
“Tara?” After visiting her father, seeing her photo collection, hearing her story, Gia felt as if she knew this child. “It's really you, isn't it.”
She nodded her blond head. “Hello, mother.”
Mother? There seemed to be a lot of confusion about that going around.
“No, I'm not your mother.”
“Oh, I know.”
“Then why—?”
Charlie pushed away from the wall and edged closer. “Get out, Gia! She been waiting on you.”
“That's okay, Charlie.” Despite the cellar's cool dampness, Gia felt warm and welcome. “I'm not afraid. Where's Jack?”
“He and Lyle left me here alone.” He pointed to Tara. “Then that showed up.”
“My mother …” Tara frowned. “She doesn't think about me anymore.”
. “That's because she can't, honey. She—”
“I know.” The words came out flat, with no feeling.
Charlie had reached her side now. He gripped her arm
with a cold, trembling hand. His voice sounded ragged, barely above a whisper.
“We gotta get outta here. If she let us.”
Gia looked at Tara. “You're not holding us here, are you?”
The child smiled wistfully. “I'd like the mother to stay for a while.”
“Not right!” Charlie said. “Dead and living don't mix!”
“Why don't you go,” Gia said. “I'll stay.”
“Nuh-uh.” Charlie shook his head. “Not without you, I ain't. This is bad—
she
bad. Can't you feel it?”
Gia felt sorry for him. He was so frightened he was shaking. Oddly, she felt perfectly calm. Hard to believe she was talking to the ghost of a murdered child and didn't feel the least bit afraid. Because she knew this poor lost soul, understood what she needed.
“I'll be fine.”
He shook his head again. “We both go or we both stay.”
“Tell you what.” She took Charlie's arm and led him toward the steps. “We'll both go up and then I'll come back down, just for a few minutes.”
But as they reached the steps Gia stopped—not because she wanted to, but because something was blocking her way. An invisible wall.
With a chill of foreboding she turned. “Tara?”
“You can't go,” Tara said with a pout. “I need the mother to stay.”
That's the heart of it, Gia thought. She wants a mother—
needs
a mother.
She felt the nurturer within her responding, reaching out to quell that need. But she had to be realistic here.
Gia spoke softly, slowly. “Look, Tara, I know you want your mother, but she can't come. I can't take her place, but if there's something I can—”
Tara shook her head. “No. You don't understand. I don't want a mother.”
Gia stared at her, baffled. “Then what—?”
And then everything changed. A wave of cold slammed
through the air as Tara's expression shifted from sweet innocence to rage. She bared her teeth.
“I want to
be
a mother.”
The earth suddenly gave way under Gia's feet. She screamed as she and Charlie tumbled into the black pit that opened beneath them.
As soon as Lyle stepped out of the taxi he sensed something was wrong.
Then he saw someone running toward him along the sidewalk. He tensed, ready to jump back into the cab until he recognized Jack.
“Hey, Jack. What's the hurry?”
Jack stopped before him, puffing, but not too heavily. “Gia. I think she's here.”
“Why would—?” He stopped himself. “Never mind. Let's go see.”
As they walked toward the house Lyle said, “You run all the way from Manhattan?”
“Just from the subway.”
“Why didn't you take a cab?”
“Subway's faster this hour.”
Lyle looked at Jack and noticed that his outline was no longer blurred. Maybe his strange new awareness was gone, or maybe it only worked in the house. But the nearer Lyle drew to the house, the stronger the sense of wrongness. He couldn't place his finger on it until—
“I'll be damned!” He stopped, staring.
Jack stopped beside him. “What?”
“The windows … the doors … they're closed!” He laughed. “This is great! We can put on the AC now.”
“I don't like it,” Jack said, moving again.
“Why not? Maybe it means whatever's been there has gone home.”
“I doubt it.”
Lyle followed Jack, saw him go to step up onto the front porch, then fall back.
“What the—?”
Lyle came up beside him. “What happened? Slip?”
And then Lyle could go no further. He stared at his foot, stranded in midair halfway to the first porch step. A chill ran down his back as he kicked his shoe forward, putting some weight behind it, but it didn't get any farther than before.
“Oh, man!” he said as icy fingers clawed his gut. “Oh, man, oh, man, oh, man! What's this shit?”
“I don't know,” Jack said.
He threw a punch at the air but his fist came to a screaming halt in midair. Lyle tried the same. Pain shot through his shoulder as his hand stopped short at about the same plane as Jack's.
It wasn't like hitting a wall. It wasn't like hitting anything. No impact. His hand simply … stopped. And no matter how hard he pushed it wouldn't advance a millimeter farther.
Lyle glanced at Jack and saw him backing up, searching the ground. He bent, came up with a rock, and threw it. Lyle watched it arc toward the house, then stop in midair and drop to the ground.
With a guttural roar Jack hurled himself at the front steps, only to stop short and stagger back.
“Easy, Jack.”
“Gia's in there!”
“You don't know that.”
“I do! Damn! This is what Tara was after all along—to get Gia alone in there.”
“But she's not alone. Char—” Lyle's heart tripped, skipped a beat. “Oh, shit. Charlie's in there too. What do you think's happening?”
“Don't know, but it can't be good if she's got the place sealed up.” He started for the side of the house. “Let's see if this goes all the way around.”
It did. They circled the house, punching at its windows and rear door, throwing rocks at it. Anyone seeing them had to think they were drunk and locked out. They called for Gia and Charlie, but no one answered.
Then they came to the garage—and walked right in. But they couldn't reach the door from the garage to the house.
Lyle leaned against the impenetrable air and felt sick. This couldn't be—
shouldn't
be. What was happening to the world?
“Jack …”
His face was reddening with the effort of trying to force a broom handle through the barrier. “Gets to you, doesn't it. Down is up, up is down, immutable laws get broken, things you always thought impossible aren't.” With a grunt of frustration he tossed the broom across the garage. “Welcome to my world.”
Lyle spotted a ladder leaning against the wall. “Hey, if we can't get through it, maybe we can get over it.”
“Do not waste your time,” said a woman's voice. “You cannot.”
Lyle turned and saw a Hindu woman in an orange sari. Her dark eyes, and those of the big German shepherd standing beside her, were on Jack.
“Why not?” Lyle said.
“Because it goes up far.”
“How far?” Jack said,
“Forever.”
Who was this lady? Where'd she come from?
“How do you know so much about this?” Lyle asked.
“I know.”
The way she said it, Lyle believed her.
“You've got to do better than that,” Jack said.
He took a step toward her but stopped when the dog growled.
Her eyes flashed at him. “Have I not warned you about
this house and its dangers for you and your woman? Have I not? And neither of you listened!”
Why didn't I know about this? Lyle thought.
“Yeah, you did. And obviously we should have. So what? I-told-you-so doesn't solve the problem. If you know so much, what's going on in there?”
“Your woman and her baby are in grave danger.”
Baby? Was Gia pregnant? Lyle saw Jack blanch. He looked frightened, something Lyle hadn't thought possible.
“How do—? Never mind. What kind of danger? Why?”
“The
why
does not matter because the
why
has changed. But the danger is mortal.”
Lyle's mouth went dry. “Charlie too?”
She didn't look at him. “Anyone in that house now is in danger.”
How could she know all this—any of it? She could be wrong or just plain crazy.
Jack seemed to have bought it. He was turning in a circle, his hands raised and balled into fists. He looked ready to explode.
“Got to be a way in. Got to!”
The woman's eyes remained fixed on Jack. She paid Lyle no more heed than a piece of furniture.
“You cannot break in, and no one inside can break out. You must be
allowed
in or out”
“Allowed? How do we arrange that?”
“I do not know for certain. Perhaps by offering the entity something she wants more than your woman.”
Jack said nothing, just stood and stared at the woman.
“Name it,” Lyle told her. This was Charlie, his brother at risk here too. The sky was the limit. “Whatever it is we can use to trade, name it and we'll do our damnedest to get it.”
“It's not an it,” Jack said. He started for the door with a strange light in his eyes, almost like glee, yet disturbingly malevolent. It made Lyle want to back away. “It's a he. And I know who. Let's go.”
Lyle had a sudden inspiration as to who that “he” might be and was very glad he was not him.

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