The Haunted - Jessica Verday [98]
A horn honked outside, and I looked up to see Mom’s van in the parking lot. Functioning on autopilot, I barely remembered to slide the back door open to let Caspian in. Mom gave me a weird look, but I told her some lame excuse about checking to see if I had my bag in the car or if I’d left it in the store, and she seemed to buy it. With Caspian safely inside the van, I shut the door and then climbed into the passenger seat.
˜ ˜ ˜
I waited until Mom was all the way in the house before talking to Caspian.
“Do you want me to stay?” he said. “I can.”
I wanted him to… I didn’t want him to… I was so confused by everything. “I don’t know.…”
“It’s okay. No pressure. If you want to talk about Aubra, you know where to find me.” I gave him a half smile. “Thanks for coming to check on me.”
“I’ll always be there,” he promised, walking out into the darkness.
“I know you will,” I whispered to his retreating form.
In my bed that night I rolled back and forth, trying to find a comfortable position. Tossing one arm above my head, I counted sheep and went through the names of all the vice presid-ents. Twice. But nothing was working. I couldn’t sleep.
I thought for sure I’d drift off and have nightmares about Kristen. But I wasn’t dreaming at all, because I wasn’t sleeping at all. A fact that became all too evident with every half hour that passed on the clock.
By two thirty I gave up. It was useless to stay in bed any longer.
Sitting by the window, I mulled everything over. Moonlight streamed around me and turned my arms and hands silvery gray. Back and forth I went, worrying the subject like a dog with a bone. Is Vincent Kristen’s D.? Why else would he tell me a different name? And how did they meet?
It didn’t make any sense. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t picture him being the secret boyfriend Kristen had lied to me about.
I sat there for another hour, not even realizing it until I looked at the clock again. “Screw this,” I muttered. I had to go talk to Caspian. My head was going to explode if I kept it all jumbled up in there much longer.
I donned jeans and sneakers, zipped up a hoodie over my tank top, and climbed out the window. After dropping carefully to the ground, I pulled the hood up over my hair and shoved my hands into my pockets. The streets were quiet, and I kept my head down as I walked, contemplating how best to tell Caspian about Vincent. I hope he’s in his mausoleum and not roaming again. We really need to work out some kind of system for how I can find him at times like these.
Headlights shone at my back as I walked up the hill to the cemetery, and I turned around for a split second. The lights blinded me, and I kept walking, willing the car to hurry up and pass. Instead it slowed down and kept a steady distance.
Just when I was about to turn around again, it veered off onto a side street. My heart thumped erratically, and I waited to see if the car would come back.
It didn’t.
Hurrying to the cemetery, I crossed the street to slip in by the main gates. As I was squeezing through, I heard the sound of a car approaching. Flattening myself on the inside of the cemetery gate wall, I held my breath. Something told me that it was the same car that had followed me, and I had a sinking suspicion as to who was in it.
Taking a chance, I poked my head around the gate and saw a black Ford Mustang cruise by. Under the streetlights I could make out the dark hair of the driver. His left arm was hanging out the open window. Vincent.
I slammed back around. Did he recognize me? Did he see me enter the cemetery?
Palms pressed tight against the wall at my back, I tipped my head and looked up at the night sky. It was completely black. No stars were out, and fear stole over me. A fear like I’d never known before.
The darkness closed in on me, encroaching on my personal space. The misshapen tombstones and gnarled tree branches were grotesque, beckoning me to come closer… or stay away.
I imagined that this must have been how Ichabod Crane felt, passing by the cemetery and seeing that fateful