Echoes (Whisper Trilogy Book 2) (29 page)

“What do you mean?”

“You know,” Scott said, as he put his fingers into a ‘V’ at either side of his chin and flicked his tongue in and out.

“You’re disgusting,” Carrie said.

“No, seriously. Did you and her get it on or what? Things seemed pretty heated earlier.”

“No, we didn’t get it on. She told me she wanted to though.”

“No way!”

“Yeah. Actually, it was last time we came up here and camped. She told me she loved me.”

“Man, you never can tell the queer ones.”

“That’s pretty homophobic, Scott.”

“Hey, I’m not saying anything bad about it, each to their own and all. I’m just saying you never can tell by looking.”

“Would it be easier if they had a label? Carried a sign or something?” Carrie said with a grin.

“No, look I know what I mean. Hey Cody, how about a little help here?”

Cody glanced over his shoulder without speaking, but carried on walking, hands in his pockets. He had tuned his friends out so he could hear the voices hidden in the trees. They were easier to hear now, bolder and more explicit. He looked into the trees ahead, knowing his feet would find the right places to step in order to keep on track. He could see them now, the masters of those voices. They were drifting out of the darkness and lining both sides of the narrow path. So close were they he could, if he chose to, reach out and touch their muscular torsos, or run a hand across their necklaces strung with severed ears and fingers. They watched him, eyes cruel and dark, deep voids of pure hatred. One of them smiled, his mouth a deep red maw lined with teeth broken into vicious and uneven fangs.

“Who are you?” he muttered under his breath, his words unheard by either Carrie or Scott who were still discussing the pros and cons of homosexuality.

They opened their mouths as one, and the trees groaned in response.

Gogoku.

There were more of them now, leading the way to the clearing. He had, of course, seen this before. It had played out in his head countless times exactly like it was happening right now, even down to the smallest of details. It was more than just déjà vu, it was a deeper knowledge, an ancient knowing. The darkness dwelling in the trees melded with him. They had a task, one which only he could complete.

What if they run?

The thought was answered almost immediately, the Gogoku giving him the reassurance he needed, giving him the confidence to do the terrible things they wanted him to do.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

As with the previous thought, this one was also responded to immediately, the doubt plucked from his mind and disposed of somewhere in the pitch dark. With that one action, whatever remained of the boy Cody used to be, was gone. He was now a tool, an instrument under the control of the spirits of the damned.

He stopped walking, Carrie and Scott almost slamming into him.

“Jesus, Cody, what the hell’s wrong with you?” Carrie said as she almost lost her footing. She pushed the wet bangs of her fringe behind her ear, and was about to further chastise Cody when he turned towards her. The words she had planned to say were inhaled as she drew a short, sharp breath.

She saw his intentions in his eyes a split-second before he attacked. Her screams were lost in the groaning laughter of the wind in the trees.

IV

Dane and Steve were inching their way down the barely visible river path into woods.

“How far is it?” Dane asked, the canopy swallowing the remaining light, leaving just Sean’s camera illumination to guide them.

“It’s a little way, probably not as direct as the other one.”

“Lead on,” Dane said. He could see the trail better now, although it was almost lost in the carpet of fallen leaves raining down as they disturbed bushes and trees.

“Is this how you found the clearing? By coming this way?” Dane panted.

“Yeah,” Steve replied, stepping over a mossy boulder. “We were out walking and just stumbled on it. Things started to go downhill from there.”

“Yeah, I read up on the story,” Dane replied, following Steve. The trees were overgrown here and, although visible, the trail was far from easy to navigate. Sharp branches constantly clawed at their coats and legs, and every now and again Sean would grunt as a branch hit the camera. “Still,” Dane continued. “It must bring you some kind of inner peace.”

“What must?” Steve said, glancing at Dane in the near dark.

“To know. I mean it’s obvious to me you believe in these ghosts or spirits or whatever. You’ve seen them, correct?”

“Yeah, I do. What’s your point?”

“My point is, there must be a certain relief from knowing there’s more than this. When our bodies die, there’s somewhere to go.”

“I never really thought about it,” Steve said, the path beginning to curve downhill.

“See for me, it’s hard.” Dane said, almost losing his footing and grabbing a branch to steady himself. “I got into this business wanting to believe. At the start, I was sure I would be the first to prove there was something after death. I really, genuinely thought it was out there waiting for me to find. The problem was the more I looked into it, the less I saw and the more skeptical I became.”

“So why still do it?”

“Why else? Bills to pay. Expensive lifestyle to lead. Besides, it’s a good job. I get to travel a lot. Even if I did want to try my hand at something else, I doubt I could. I’ll always be the ‘ghost guy’. Getting any other kind of gig now would be hard.”

“If you saw something out here today, would it change your outlook?” Steve inquired, almost losing his own footing on the leaf-littered ground.

“I don’t know. I’ve always asked myself how I’d react if I ever saw something with my own eyes, and so far I haven’t been able to come up with an answer. I’d probably run screaming like a bitch if I’m honest with you.”

Steve chuckled and Dane joined in.

“You’re different to him,” Steve said as the path leveled off. “Your brother I mean.”

“Tell me about it, although in all fairness he’s not so bad. He’s just found himself caught up in all the hysteria of this place.”

“He’s an asshole.”

Dane laughed a hearty sound which echoed through the dense tangle of trees. “That he is. Don’t expect it to change though. He’s always been the same way. Ruthless and single-minded if he gets an idea in his head.”

“So I noticed.”

“I mean, take this place. He spends so much time up here by himself and now he’s dressing like this Donovan guy. I don’t know if it’s for the benefit of the cameras, or the show, or just to make himself feel young again. Family or not, he looks ridiculous.”

Steve stopped walking. “What did you say?”

“You know, the stupid new look of his.”

“I only saw him for the first time when I came here. What’s changed?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, it’s probably all for the show.”

“Humor me.”

“Well, just look at him. The stupid hair-dye job was bad enough, now he’s even dressing the same. The guy’s obsessed.”

Steve’s stomach rolled as he stared at the confused presenter in the artificial glow of Sean’s camera. Flashbacks of the fire. Of Donovan re-inhabiting his own body. Surely it couldn’t have happened again?

“The teams, who decided those?” Steve snapped.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean who decided who went with whom?”

“Henry did, why?”

“Of course he did,” Steve muttered. “He knew she’d ask to swap.”

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about I—”

“Follow the trail and get the others, then head back to the hotel.” Steve said as he turned back and started to shamble through the woods.

“What’s going on here? Where are you going? We have a show to film.”

“Just do it, I don’t have time to explain.”

With that he was gone, lost amid the trees. Dane looked beyond the camera towards Sean. “What do you think?”

“I think we should do as he says,” Sean replied.

“Alright, let’s go.”

The pair pushed on through the woods as Steve raced towards the hotel.

CHAPTER 18

The lobby was silent, a crypt hiding secrets, draped in heavy shadows. Melody and Emma were standing just inside the entrance, holding hands and willing themselves to move. The dining room entrance loomed like a wide open mouth of some slumbering beast, a cavern of the night. Melody nodded towards it, putting a finger to her lips. Message received, Emma nodded and both women crept towards it.

Other than the ghostly edge of the table, they saw nothing beyond. Melody peered into the pitch dark, Emma cowering against her. Fighting every instinct, she stepped into the darkness and reached for the light switch. Her fingers found the casing and then the buttons. She flicked them on, the dining room fizzling to clarity under the array of strip-lights hanging from the ceiling.

The room was empty.

Emma breathed a sigh of relief, and turned to Melody, intending to ask what they should do next, when she saw the expression on her face. Melody was staring at the table, open-mouthed, eyes wide.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Emma said, her voice bouncing around the room.

She followed Melody’s line of sight to the object on the table, and if anything was more confused. It was just a toy. A red stuffed bear which looked to have seen better days. Its plush body was slightly grubby and one ear was missing, a rough stitching job mostly doing enough to keep the stuffing from escaping.

“I don’t get it, it’s just a toy.” Emma said.

And to her, that’s all it was. To Melody, it was more. It was Isaacs’s toy. The one she had left with him at Rebecca’s, the one he snuggled with when he felt ill, or if there was a storm raging and he was trying to be brave. There was no question. He’d had the teddy since he’d been two, and she was as familiar with it as she was with Isaac himself. He had refused to give it away, refused to have it washed or even be parted from it, even though he was starting to get a little old for such things. There was no way it should be there. It was impossible unless…

“Go call the police,” Melody croaked.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Please, just do it. Get someone here right now.”

Emma nodded, turning away from Melody and heading to the lobby. She screamed. Melody whirled around, half-knowing what was awaiting her.

Henry Marshall stood silhouetted in the doorway, one black-gloved hand on the frightened boy’s shoulder, the other holding the carving knife to his throat, the blade shimmering in the gloom.

“Mr. Marshall, what are you doing?” Emma said, almost too quiet to be heard.

“Henry isn’t here,” he whispered as he pulled his hood down to expose his blonde hair. “You can call me Donovan.”

“Don’t you hurt him!” Melody screamed, her voice echoing around the deserted halls.

Marshall only smiled, and to see it threw Melody into the past. Although they looked nothing alike in the physical sense, something had happened, and by some sick form of amalgamation, Henry Marshall and Donovan were now one and the same.

“I’ve been waiting for this, for you to come back,” Marshall said.

“Leave my son alone.”

“He’s not yours. He belongs to them,” he said, rolling his eyes. “He belongs to those who were here first.”

“What do you want?” Melody said, her voice wavering.

“I have something to show you. A grand finale. A surprise to end all surprises.”

“No,” she said, locking eyes with her son, who stared back at her, afraid and confused.

“You don’t have a choice. I’ll kill him if you don’t.”

She looked Marshall in the eye, and knew it was true.

“What about Emma?” Melody said.

“She’s free to go.”

Emma and Melody shared a quick glance, which was broken by Marshall’s laughter. “You don’t believe me? I should have known,” He said, shaking his head. Isaac began to cry, a low whine which cut Melody to the core. Henry smiled.

“She’s not part of this, they don’t want her.” He said as he unlocked the door, simultaneously pulling the blade tighter into Isaac’s throat, the pressure making a tiny incision in his skin.

“Get out.” Henry said flatly to Emma.

She hesitated and looked at Melody. “No. I’m not leaving you alone with her.”

Henry glared at Emma and smiled. “It wasn’t a request.”

“I won’t leave you with her.” she repeated, trying and failing to sound unafraid.

“You either go now and be free, or stay and suffer the consequences.” As he said it he switched on the lobby lights, exposing the rest of the space and expelling the shadows. Both Emma and Melody screamed in unison.

Fred was sprawled in one of the crème chairs in the waiting area behind Marshall, head bent back at a nauseatingly unnatural angle. Blood stood out in sharp contrast against the off-white furnishings. His head had almost been severed, his lower jaw removed. His horrified eyes looked up at the ceiling, one hand lay half clenched on his lap and the other arm hung over the edge of the chair.

Bruce lay on the floor at his side, face down on the tile in a pool of his own blood, the back of his head a bloody pulp.

“Stay or go, it’s up to you.” Henry stated, speaking to Emma whilst looking at Melody.