“Yeah. I thought Jack and Doug called them. I figured they caught someone trying to break in. I didn’t know.”
Lindsay felt awkward saying what she was about to say, but she had to. “I thought Ev might have seen them…you know…hurting you or something. She really looked scared.”
“No. Nothing like that. They did send me back to my room though, like I was the one that did something wrong.”
“What do you think she saw?” Lindsay asked.
“Don’t know. Jack and Doug have done some really weird stuff. They perform these rituals sometimes. I don’t know what they’re trying to accomplish, but it can be pretty creepy to watch.”
“Rituals?”
“Yeah. They’re both totally into the occult. I’ve never seen them sacrifice a goat or anything, but they take it seriously. Like I said, some of that junk is just full-on creepy.”
Suddenly Lindsay thought about the burner with the dreadlocks. He’d been on that side of the house, moving close to Mark’s window. What if he’d seen the same thing as Ev?
They’re real! God protect us. They’re real.
“But why were they doing it in your room?”
“I don’t know,” Mark said. “But I’m kind of freaked out now. I mean, especially if your friend was all psych ward over it.”
Lindsay didn’t know what to say. The occult? She remembered the tattoos on Jack’s back. Were they magic symbols? Some cult pattern?
“You know, Lindsay, it might be better if you took this phone back. If they find it on me, you could get into some real trouble, and I don’t want that. Things have always been weird around here, but it feels like something is going to happen soon, something bad, and I don’t want you to be hung up in it.”
“No,” Lindsay said. “You keep it. You might need it.” “I don’t think it will help, but I do like chatting with you.”
“Me, too.”
10
For two days, Mark’s guardians didn’t leave the property, but he managed to find time—when they were outside or napping or watching TV in the next room—to call and quietly chat with Lindsay.
She was thrilled every time the Treo rang. Whether she was on the beach with her parents or in her room, IMing with Kate or Trey, she stopped everything to take his calls. Her parents commented several times on her good mood, and she did all that she could to assure them it was the vacation and nothing more. No way could she tell them about Mark.
And he was so great. He was funny and romantic, and one day, when Jack and Doug were out tinkering with their car, Mark played another song for her on his piano. It was a simple tune, but really pretty. “It makes me think of you,” he told her.
What wasn’t so great were the calls she got from Tee and Mel. At first she didn’t recognize the caller ID, so she let the calls go to her mailbox. When she retrieved the first one—from a Christie Molson—it took her a few seconds to realize it was Tee’s voice. “Hey, Lindsay. Can you call me and Mel? It’s like about Ev. We don’t have cells, so just call my mom’s. The number is…”
Lindsay didn’t return the call. Or the next one, or the one after that. In fact, she erased the later messages without even listening to them. She so didn’t care what Mel or Tee had to say about Ev. More than likely, they were just speaking for Ev, who wanted to feed Lindsay some story about what happened that night at Mark’s. Whatever the case, she didn’t trust Ev or her friends. Besides, she was enjoying her conversations with Mark and didn’t want any annoying memories of the bonfire club interfering with it.
It was hard enough not being with him. So after he called late the second afternoon, she was happy. Mark sounded tired and upset, but his guardians were out, and he wanted to see her.
“What are these things?” Lindsay asked, running a finger over one of the metal corner pieces in the window frame.
Mark looked up from the piano, which he had been playing, and said “Ugh. Doug and Jack have them all over the house. They picked them up at a magic shop years ago. They’re supposed to keep out evil or something stupid. I think they just like the way they look. What do you think?”
“They’re okay,” Lindsay said. “I mean, they’re small, so it’s not like they’re a total eyesore. I thought they might be part of an alarm or something.”
“Nah, go ahead and wiggle one around. You’ll see. No sirens.”
Lindsay gave it a try. She grasped the metal. It was incredibly cold to the touch. Once she had the corner piece pinched between her thumb and forefinger, she gave it a tug.
It didn’t budge.
“They’re in really tight.”
Mark stood from the piano bench and walked over to Lindsay. He put his arms around her waist, sending electric tingles up her spine. “Old-world craftsmanship,” he said. He leaned down and nuzzled her hair. Then he kissed her neck.
She turned slowly and met his lips with her own. The kiss was hesitant and tender. But it was nice. He pulled away too soon.
“So, I wanted you to come over to tell you something,” Mark said. He crossed the room and sat on the bed.
Lindsay joined him, sitting down with her hip touching his. “What is it?”
“I’m going to leave.”
The news brought a thick nausea to her stomach. Her throat clenched tightly and her hands began to shake.
“W-when? Why?”
“Something is wrong here,” he said. “Jack and Doug are losing it. The other day they took all of my clothes except what I’m wearing. I think they burned them. They’re getting totally paranoid, and it’s all coming down on me.”
“But where will you go?” Lindsay asked.
“Doesn’t matter. Anywhere but here. I’m only telling you because I like you a lot, and if things weren’t so screwed up, we might have…” He let the sentence trail away. He fell silent for a moment, then said “The thing is, once I go, that’s it. I can’t come back. I can’t see you anymore, and I can’t call or anything. So, I guess this is kind of good-bye.”
“Good-bye?” Lindsay felt incredibly ill. Never see each other again? “When are you leaving?”
“As soon as I can. I thought about taking off the minute Jack and Doug left, but I wanted to talk to you first, you know? I’m never sure when they’ll leave or when they’ll come back. It might be days before I get another chance, but I’ve got to get away from here. They’re really scaring me now.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Lindsay asked.
Mark pulled the cell phone from his pocket and handed it to her. It felt like a hot lump of coal in her hand. “You’ve already done enough.”
She tried kissing him again, but he pulled away, shaking his head. “It’ll only make things worse.”
He stood and walked back to the piano. Solemnly, he sat down and began to play.
As far as Lindsay was concerned, it couldn’t get any worse than this.
11
The first time Lindsay got into real trouble she was nine years old. One day after school, Kate talked her into smoking a cigarette. They were in Lindsay’s room watching television, and the babysitter, Mrs. Kharn, was napping on the sofa downstairs. Kate produced the Marlboro and a book of matches, and though Lindsay’s first response was “No way,” a minute later she was drawing the nasty smoke into her throat. She only managed to take two puffs before feeling totally high—her head was spinning and light as air. They flushed the evidence down the toilet and swore to each other that they’d never touch another cigarette. Kate went home, and Lindsay brushed her teeth twice to get rid of the gross taste in her mouth.