Page 50 of How (Not) to Conjure a Boyfriend
“Oh nothing, just odd seeing food wrappers around,” I tell him. Then again, it makes sense. “Probably others like us coming up here and messing around.”
“Messing around?”
“Yeah, you know.” I shrug, but he’s eyeing me down like he doesn’t. I roll my eyes and huff. “You know. They come up here and…yeah. Some people get off on that.”
“O-kay.” He doesn’t seem convinced, and suddenly I feel like I crossed a weird comfort boundary. I just talked about sex…to Zachary…while he’s holding my hand…all alone. Dammit. It’s everything I can do not to yank my hand away.
“Yeah, but it could be anything,” I start to ramble. “Maybe they came up for a little picnic, or a scary haunted tour. Maybe they were just stopping by. Oh! Maybe it was a homeless person and they stayed here a few nights. You know? And left their trash.”
“Stayed a few nights?” Zachary’s eyes light up in the dim glow of our phones’ flashlights. “Like…like they could still be here?”
“Oh no! That’s not what I meant!” I yelp. But oh gods, what if they are? No! That’s just a random thing my head said. There is no one else here. Except Kaitlynn, and she’s outside waiting on us. “I meant like a while back or something.”
“But…” Zachary doesn’t complete the sentence, and all I manage is a weak hopeful grin and shrug. He looks down at his watch and then back up at me. “New plan. Let’s cut this two minutes short.”
“Are you sure?” I say, even though part of me is starting to freak my own self out.
“Yeah, I’m all haunted out.” He backs up.
“Okay.” I nod. There’s no way I’m pushing him to stay if he’s scared. Something about the little empty wrapper just threw my mind for a loop anyway. My nerves are on edge now. “Let’s go.”
I pull him along, back out into the hallway, and start off before realizing I’m headed the wrong way. The door we come to is closed, and our lights paint it in a blaze of gray splinters. I slump and turn around.
“Sorry, wrong way.” I smile unconvincingly and crinkle my nose. “My bad.”
“Yep, your bad,” he says back, and I’m about to giggle when a quiet knock echoes behind me.
I freeze. My eyes widen. What was that?
“What—” Zachary starts, but I shush him. Another knock, and Zachary hears it this time. “What was—”
I shush him again, and flinch around to see the shut door again.
“Stop shushing me,” he whispers.
I spring my lids open so he can see my eyes yelling at him to shut up so I can hear. I don’t know what the noise is, but it’s there. A soft knocking noise, and I swear it’s coming from behind the last door. My heart starts to race. What is it? Is someone squatting here? What if they see us? I mean, they’re just another person, right? They wouldn’t hurt us. Right?
Another bump, and another. But what if it’s the Harrels’ son’s ghost?Knock, knock!It’s getting louder and quicker. There’s no rhythm, no clever tune, just random knocks.Knock!It’s closer! Then—
The door creaks and moves.
“Uh…” I gulp, stepping back.
With a crash, the wooden door swings out, and screeching squeals burst from the dark. The wood claps against the wall. Chirps echo from the opening and wash over me just as my arm is yanked in the opposite direction. I trip over my own feet butcatch my step before I tumble forward. It takes a moment to realize I’m being dragged down the hall by a horrified Zachary, but I’m not resisting. The squalling and squeaking intensifies, but suddenly the sounds start to make sense. My pounding heart settles for a single second at the understanding, and then jumps into overdrive again.
Bats.
Their tiny dark bodies swoop into the hallway. There are so many of them. Maybe hundreds. Vampiric mouths, pointed wings, all swarming at us like a black death. I throw my eyes forward as they wrap around us, flying about as if we’re nothing.
“Go, go, go, go!” I yell, ducking as we run.
Their squalls chase us into the kitchen. The only thing louder than the chirps is the beating in my chest as my shoes skid across the splintered floor in time with Zach’s to make the next turn. Our feet beat against the old wood. It shakes beneath us, creaking and cracking as we blunder into the next room. I slide to a halt. I don’t hear them anymore except for a tiny distant chatter.
“I think we’re good,” I say, and start to bend over and rest my hands on my knees to get my breath back.
Hands grab my shoulders and I jerk to attention.
“Are you okay?” Zachary’s eyes dig into me. He’s horrified, but he’s asking if I’m all right. “Mack?”
