The Harrowing

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The walk home was cold and largely silent as they made their way through the tall shadows

of trees back to the Hall. It was as if once they’d made their decision, there was nothing more to talk about.

Lisa walked stiffly, sunk into herself, and Robin had to bite her lips not to ask her what was wrong. Whatever it was, Lisa obviously didn’t want to talk in front of the others. Or me, either, I guess.

Once the building was in sight, they separated. Lisa and Patrick hung back to smoke, but there was more to it—a feeling that they shouldn’t be seen together. And why is that? Guilt? Or possessiveness? Do we just not want to let anyone else in on it?

Even Martin paused at the mailboxes, fumbling distractedly with his keys, so Robin could go in ahead, without him.

Her room was empty, thankfully no Waverly to deal with.

Robin stripped off her coat—the wool smelled like cold air and smoke from Patrick’s fire—and threw it on her bed. She stood for a long time in the center of the rug before turning and leaving the room again.

She moved blankly down the hall toward the bathroom, but near the open bathroom door, she slowed, listening, her pulse quickening.

Scrabbling sounds came from within, and a labored breathing.

She froze, then after a moment stepped warily to the doorway and looked in.

In the sickly light of the girls’ bathroom, Lisa was rummaging ferociously through her locker. She grabbed for an orange prescription pill bottle, twisted it open.

Obviously empty. Robin flinched as Lisa hurled the bottle at the wall, slammed her locker closed.

Then Lisa glimpsed Robin in the mirror, a shadow in the doorway behind her. Lisa whirled, freaked.

Robin stepped forward into the light. “It’s me.”

Lisa breathed out silently, then bent over the sink to wash her face, so as not to look Robin in the eyes. The red string was like a slash of blood on her wrist.

Robin moved slightly closer. “Are you okay?”

For a moment, Robin thought Lisa wasn’t going to answer. She buried her face in a towel, and when she looked up again, her eyes were distant, sunk into pale flesh. But abruptly she spoke. “I’m dreaming about him. I mean, I’m dreaming about him fucking me.” She turned and looked Robin in the eyes.

Robin stared at her, jolted, not knowing what to think. She was always wary of Lisa’s grandstanding. But Lisa had been so quiet all evening, not herself at all. And she was pale and jumpy, her usual bravado gone. In fact, she looked sick.

Could it be true? Is she actually being—Robin’s mind skittered away from the word.

Robin’s face must have changed to reflect the sick jolt of horror she felt. Lisa immediately closed off. She tossed her hair, smiled that mocking smile. “Oh, look, he’s good. What can I say? I come.” She threw her towel into her locker and pulled out a hairbrush, attacked her hair viciously.

Robin tensed, wounded by Lisa’s tone and roiling with mixed emotions—distrust, the old paranoia, and something else, too.

Jealousy?

No, of course not. But—but what?

The truth was, she’d thought Zachary was only appearing to her.

“Well. Great. How nice for you,” she replied tightly. She turned to go.

Lisa spoke suddenly. “He’s not doing it to you?” There was a slight tremor in her voice.

Robin turned back to look at her, shook her head.

Lisa smiled thinly. “Lucky me.”

The mirrors reflected them both… multiple images. Robin spoke carefully into the silence. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

Lisa’s smile twisted. “Why? You want a piece of the action?”

Robin flushed, deep red. Stung, she turned to leave.

Lisa called out shakily, “Robin.”

This time there was no mistaking the desperation in her voice. Robin turned back, almost afraid to know.

Lisa dropped the hairbrush into the sink. She faced Robin and slowly unbuttoned the high collar of her shirt. Robin gasped.

Lisa’s throat and chest were covered with bruises and scratches.

And bites.

The girls looked at each other in the glare of the fluorescents, too frightened to speak.

A few candles burned in Lisa’s room, since neither girl had wanted to sleep completely in the

dark. Robin had been sure she’d be wide awake all night (and better that way) but she’d drifted off and now slept fitfully on one side of the bed.

So it was just on the edges of consciousness that she heard it start—a low rhythmic bumping somewhere in the room.

Robin frowned in her sleep, stirred.

The bumping grew louder.

Robin’s eyes fluttered open. Through the haze of sleep and shimmering candlelight, she saw shadows battling on the wall. A huge dark mass, crouched over a feminine form.

The bumping grew louder, beginning to shake the bed, pounding, violent.

Robin jerked up, wide awake now.

The shadows were gone. But Lisa’s side of the bed was shaking and bouncing as Lisa flopped up and down on top of it, crying out in terror, fighting at something invisible.

Robin cowered. The room was like ice; the presence beside her was thick, palpable, a choking sense of malevolence, paralyzing her with an almost-blinding terror.

Her mind recoiled, folding in on itself—a swooning madness—then she pulled herself back from the brink and screamed aloud.

“Zachary, stop! STOP!”

Lisa spasmed, then suddenly ceased flailing and collapsed on the bed.

The candles on the bed stand flickered, flaring up.

To Robin’s horror, she felt the presence there, the dark energy, turn its attention to her.

She could feel the hair on her arms rise, her whole body going numb as she felt cold breath on her face, smelled a sick, rotting stench.

She pressed herself back against the headboard, her eyes wide and glazed. The presence leaned in to her; her body could feel the mass of something huge and alive, throbbing with malevolence. Invisible breath stirred her hair…and she heard herself whimper like an animal.

Then it was gone.

The shadows in the room softened; the air was no longer freezing. And there was no sense of the fist that had seemed to squeeze her heart.

Lisa lay beside her, shaking with terror. She broke into raw sobbing.

Robin shook herself free of the paralysis and leaned over to hug Lisa, holding her. She could feel Lisa’s spasms through her whole body. Her own teeth were chattering from adrenaline.

“God…” Her words were choked. “Has that been—is that the way it’s been?”

Lisa shook her head, swallowing. “Never like that.”

Robin clenched her nails into her own palms, fighting to keep control of herself. “We can’t do the séance. It’s too dangerous. We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

Lisa pulled away from her. Her eyes were dilated, glazed. “We have to do something. We have to get rid of him.”

They looked at each other in the wavering candlelight.

Lisa spoke, her voice low and fierce. “Don’t you dare tell anyone.”

After a moment, Robin silently nodded.