Page 59 of Waysider
The threads were back. They covered the ground, stretching as far as Cass could see. To her surprise, not all of them had the soft glow like the music box revenant—some of them were black, and others looked like spider webs. Cass raised her gaze and stared out at the view beyond the house. Holy shit. There were so many. Thousands, maybe millions. They covered the roads, reached into houses, draped over trees and rooftops. They even went into the dark stretch of ocean, weaving into the water like snakes or vines. Cass didn’t know whether she was awed or terrified.
“Hey,” a voice said. Cass turned, and realized with a jolt that everyone was staring at her. It was Sinister who had spoken. He waited until Cass met his gaze, then added, “Whatever happens, stay close to one of us.”
Cass nodded without hesitation. “No worries there,” she said.
Someone snickered. Ignoring them, Sinister started toward the house, taking the lead. Webster turned to follow him. As Frenchie walked past her, Cass noticed that he was carrying an EMF meter. It wasn’t quite the same as Tammy’s, and Cass wondered if her roommate had done some modifications to the one at House Wayside. Frenchie noticed her interest and winked. “I can show you how it works sometime, eh?”
A moment later, they reached the front doors, and Cass was spared from a response. Frenchie moved to stand by Wolf, and Cass glanced back to see that Camila was behind her. The other girl gave Cass a nod of encouragement, probably seeing her reluctance to go inside. Cass fought the urge to swallow; her mouth was so dry it hurt. As she forced herself to step over the threshold, Cass remembered that it could only be a Level Three Haunting, at most.
The thought wasn’t comforting.
She half-expected the hinges to moan, like they always did in horror movies, but the door was eerily silent as it opened. Their strange group walked inside, and Camila closed the door behind them. The sound, though soft, seemed to echo through the stillness.
Cass didn’t like this place. She knew that immediately, suppressing the urge to shiver as a prickling sensation moved over her arms, making the small hairs stand on end. She stared up at a chandelier dangling above them, the lights set to a low, yellow glow that made every shadow in the room longer. Darker.
“Spread out, but don’t go too far,” Sinister instructed. “And no solo hunts.”
Cass wondered if the last part was for her benefit. She stayed where she was, realizing she had a choice to make. Cass didn’t want to go with Webster, for obvious reasons. But if she went with Sinister, it might look like she was interested in him or something. Frenchie and Wolf were clearly attached at the hip. That left Chad or Camila.
Cass hurried to catch up with Camila, who had started down one of the hallways.
But as she walked through a patch of darkness, Cass rammed into something. A scream lodged in her throat, and her hands flew up, catching something cool and solid. Breathing hard, Cass caught hold of a string, and she tugged at it automatically. Warm light flooded the area around her.
She’d bumped into a lamp.
Her pulse slowed. Feeling eyes on her, Cass lifted her head. Camila stood nearby, and it was obvious she’d seen the whole thing. Judging from the concerned look on the Dreamwalker’s face, Cass knew she was doing a shitty job of hiding her terror. She cleared her throat and fussed with her bangs. “Sorry,” she muttered.
“Some of them can be beautiful, you know. The Hauntings.” Camila opened a door and peered inside. After a moment, she closed it again and returned to Cass’s side. They started walking toward the next room.
Camila talked as they made slow progress. Her husky, lilting voice was oddly comforting in the quiet hallway. “Once, back in Spain, I visited a farm just outside of the city. It was a Haunting that had frustrated many voyants, much like your chalkboard revenant. I wasn’t properly trained, since I hadn’t received an invitation to Else & Bellows yet, but the owner of the farm heard about my abilities and he was desperate. It was well-known this revenant didn’t want to leave her horse, and nothing could separate them. By the time I got there, the stallion was old and nearing the end. I tried to untether its owner, like all the others before me, but she was too entangled. After her animal died, though, the revenant still didn’t move on. She became confused and lonely. The last time I went back, I couldn’t find her, but I did see an old stallion on a hill. I realized the revenant had become the creature she’d loved so much. I finally untethered her and watched her run, and then she was gone.”
Camila fell silent, a soft smile tilting the corners of her lips. Cass kept scanning the hallway, alert for any sign of movement. Her grip was so tight on the hilt of the paracaus blade that she could feel the bite of her nails.
“Nothing about that story was beautiful,” Cass said flatly.
She felt Camila studying her with a thoughtful frown, but Cass didn’t look back at her—she was too paranoid that something was about to rush at them out of the darkness. Cass just wanted to get this search of the house over with, and if she was lucky, maybe they wouldn’t find any revenants tonight. Finch had told her that it happened sometimes. Exhaling again, Cass paused beside another door and put her thumb on the blade’s switch.
There was no trace of fear on Camila’s pretty face as she turned the doorknob and looked inside. Unlike the other room, she didn’t move on. Without saying anything to Cass, the Dreamwalker went inside, frowning.
For a moment, Cass was tempted to stay out in the hallway. Then she remembered Sinister’s warning to stay together. No solo hunts. Cass let out a shaky breath and followed Camila.
They were in a huge bedroom. Cass couldn’t even look at the furniture or the walls, because the tethers were everywhere in here. They weren’t the pale, ethereal threads Cass preferred—these were the dark ones. All of them seemed to be going in the same direction. Cass lifted her head and found herself staring into pitch black. The lamp in the hallway was the only source of light, other than Camila’s flashlight, and the small rays reached feebly into the dim room.
But Cass knew, in her gut, that they weren’t alone.
“There’s…” Her throat was so dry again that she had to stop. Cass swallowed, fighting the urge to run. Slowly, she pushed the switch on the bottom of the paracaus blade. Her voice sounded like the rasp of sandpaper as she said, “There’s something in here.”
Camila was walking along the perimeter of the room. She turned her head and looked back at Cass. “What—”
A sound came from behind them, and Cass whirled, her mouth parting in a strangled gasp. Frenchie stood there, still holding the EMF meter. It was lit up now and making a high-pitched, crackling noise.
“Hey, I’ve got something,” he called over his shoulder. As Camila came back over to them, Frenchie knelt and put the EMF meter into his bag. He pulled something else out and set it down on the floor.
“What is that?” Cass asked, watching him. She was desperate for something to distract her from the way her skin was prickling and how every part of her body wanted to bolt from the room.
“It’s a ghost box,” Frenchie said. Cass must’ve given him a blank look, because he explained, “A ghost box is any device that allows revenants to communicate verbally through technology. Some tools scan radio frequencies, and sometimes they catch snippets of speech that can be interpreted as the voices of the deceased. Fascinating, no?”
Sparing Cass from a response, the others appeared and gathered on one side of the room. Cass waited for someone to remark on the strange, menacing tethers. She followed them with her eyes again, all the way to the part of room that was still cast in darkness.
