The Restoration Page 8

  Unnerved, Terri left, closing the door behind her.

  Chapter Eight

  Dallas clicked the light off and turned on her side, closing her eyes. She found it hard to sleep in this house, and no wonder. Why couldn’t her mother have a normal job, like other moms? Or better yet, it would be great if she could afford to stay home all day like Angela’s mom. Her mom didn’t have enough money to do that, though, and her dad wasn’t helping. She didn’t like to think that way, because she loved her dad, but he would have made it a lot easier on them if he’d given her mom a little money now and then.

  The light snapped back on. Heart pounding, Dallas flipped over, expecting to see her mother. But it was Niles standing by her bed, his rosy face looking even pinker in the lamp light. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Why aren’t you in my room anymore?” His lower lip protruded in a pout.

  “If you keep making that face, it’ll freeze that way,” Dallas said, parroting one of her grandmother’s all-time favorite sayings. Then again, maybe the saying wasn’t much of a threat if you were dead. She supposed not.

  “I like you being there. Please come back.”

  “I can’t, thanks to you. You had to throw that big tantrum and scare my mom. Now I’m not allowed anywhere near your room.”

  “I apologize for my behavior. I was upset.”

  “Being upset is no reason to throw your stuff everywhere. If you were alive, you’d be grounded.” Dallas bit her lip. Oops.

  “What do you mean?” Niles’s protruding lip trembled. “I am alive, same as you.”

  She tried to remember that movie. It shouldn’t be that hard; she’d watched it a thousand times. What did one do with a ghost who didn’t realize it was dead? Was it kinder to tell them, or to let them figure it out on their own?

  Before she could say anything, she felt a vicious pinch on her upper arm. “Hey!” The attack sent hot waves of pain running down her skin, and tears sprang to her eyes.

  “I’m speaking to you,” Niles said, and though his smile wasn’t obvious, she could see one in his eyes. He enjoyed hurting her.

  “Well, I’m no longer speaking to you.” She rubbed her arm, glaring at him. “You’re a brat. Go away.”

  She turned off the light, though the idea of trying to sleep with him standing there watching her was unbearably creepy. Squeezing her eyes shut, with her hand covering the place he’d pinched her, she prayed that he would get bored and go away.

  “You are being extremely rude.”

  “I said, I’m not talking to you, Niles. You hurt me, and you’re not very nice. Go find someone else to pick on.”

  “Pick on?”

  “Go away!” she roared, sitting up enough to throw a pillow at him. It soared harmlessly through him and landed on the floor.

  “I thought we were friends.” The accusation is his voice was clear, and it made her angrier. It wasn’t her fault they weren’t getting along, now was it?

  “People don’t pinch their friends.”

  “I apologized.”

  “No, you didn’t! You didn’t say sorry once. You were happy about it.”

  “It appears we’re at an impasse. Perhaps I’ll allow you some time to calm down.”

  Dallas didn’t know the word to describe his attitude, but if she had, it would have been patronizing. He acted like he was so much more mature, but he was the one who’d had a fit and trashed his room like a little baby. Furious, she used the worst insult she could think of.

  “You are dead, Niles. D-E-A-D, dead. You’re a ghost. So why don’t you find some chains to rattle somewhere else?” She turned her back on him and shut her eyes again.

  The cover was yanked off her body, exposing her to the cold air. As usual, it was freezing in the house. It didn’t seem to matter how hot it was outside. “Hey! Stop doing that. I need to get some sleep.”

  “I cannot believe you would say such an appalling thing. I am as alive as you are.”

  She clicked on the lamp again. He obviously would never believe her without a demonstration. And, although she was frustrated, she also didn’t blame him. She probably wouldn’t have believed it either, especially if she was still in the same house she’d lived in during her life. God, please don’t let me end up in this house after I die. That would be the worst. Dallas could hardly stand being there now. “Okay, then, hold out your arm.”

  “Why?” He scowled at her. His features were so gentle that the expression resembled a parody.

  “I’m going to pinch you back. If you’re alive, it will hurt like hell, but if you’re dead, you won’t feel a thing.”

  “Fine.” He thrust his arm out, the stiff fabric of his suit protecting his skin like armor.

  “Can you take your jacket off? It would be easier.”

  “I’m not sure that is appropriate,” he said in that haughty tone of his, and she wanted to slap him. If the place had to be haunted, why did it have to be by the world’s most annoying ghost?

  “Um, you’re in my bedroom and I’m in my nightgown. How is that appropriate?”

  “You have a point.” Niles removed his jacket and carefully folded it, laying it on a chair in the corner of the room. Dallas watched in fascination. She hadn’t been sure he could do it. For a ghost, he was incredibly real. What if her mother’s first theory was correct, and he was a confused kid? What would she do when he cried out? He rolled up the sleeve of his thin white shirt and thrust his arm straight out in front of her face. “Very well. Do your worst.”

  In that moment, she hoped she could hurt him. Her own arm throbbed, and she wanted very much to get revenge. Gritting her teeth, she reached for his arm, but her fingers couldn’t get a grip. They didn’t go through him like one saw in the movies; he wasn’t transparent. It was as if his skin had a life of its own, moving underneath her fingers whenever she tried to pinch him. It was like trying to pinch water. “See?”

  “You are not putting in an honest effort. Repeat, please.”

  Exhaling, Dallas took another deep breath and tried again. She showed him how her fingers couldn’t close on his arm.

  “This is a waste of time.” Glowering, he rolled down his sleeve and put his jacket back on. “You did not make a strong attempt.”

  She brought her arm straight back, and – using all of her strength (which she’d been told was considerable; people were always telling her how strong she was) – she aimed a slap at Niles’s cheek. Dallas had never hit anyone before, and she hoped she wasn’t making a big mistake. This time, her hand did go through him, and she felt a twinge of pain as her shoulder joint overextended.

  Niles had been fussing with his cuffs, but at the slap, his head shot up. “What did you do?”

  “I slapped you, but I knew it wouldn’t work. I wanted to prove it to you.”

  “It proved nothing. I felt that, so I suppose that means I’m not a spirit.”

  “If I’d really hit you, it would have made a loud noise.” She clapped her hands to demonstrate. “Haven’t you been in a fight before?” Boys always seemed to be fighting back home.

  “No, I was too ill. I never had the opportunity to make male friends. I was always shut up in my room.”

  “I’m sorry, that sucks.” In spite of his bratty behavior, she sympathized with him. Aside from a cold or the occasional flu, she’d never been sick. She hadn’t even broken a bone.

  “In any case, you said you would pinch me. That was what we agreed to. You never said a word about slapping.”

  “I was trying to prove it to you. I’ve been doing my best to pinch you, but it isn’t working.”

  “Perhaps you’re a bad pincher.”

  “Oh yeah? Maybe you’re dead.”

  Niles looked more offended than when she’d hit him. “Friends do not strike each other, and they do not say unkind things.”

  “How do you
know what friends do if you’ve never had one?” It was cruel, and she felt badly about it, but right now all she wanted to do was sleep. If she insulted him enough, maybe he’d leave her alone.

  “I have had friends. Before I fell ill. I had lots of friends.”

  “Great. I’m happy for you. Can you leave my room now, please?”

  “This is not your room. This is my sister Emma’s room.”

  Dallas seized another opportunity to enlighten him. “And where is Emma? How come I’m here, and she’s not?”

  He shrugged. “Emma is always traveling. She could be in Paris, or Milan. She likes to compete in equestrian events. I’m certain she will not mind you making use of her room while she’s gone, but once she returns, you are welcome to stay in mine.”

  “Emma isn’t traveling, Niles. She’s dead.”

  “Why do you persist in saying such awful things?”

  “Because they’re true. I’m sorry, but the only one of your sisters that’s still alive is Henrietta, and she’s old. Can’t you see how old she is? Even if you hadn’t been sick, you probably would have died by now anyway. People don’t live forever.”

  Missing the point of what she was saying entirely, Niles made a terrible face. “I cannot stand Henrietta. I wish she were not my sister. She is horrid and cruel.”

  Dallas was startled by the venom in his voice. The elderly lady hadn’t been overly friendly, but she had seemed nice enough. “Yeah, well, you’re lucky. I don’t have sisters or brothers, and since my mom travels for work all the time, I’m alone a lot.”

  “That’s why I anticipated that you would welcome my friendship. And yet, you have not welcomed it. You have treated me with derision.”

  She didn’t know what that word meant, but she guessed it wasn’t anything good. “Can you let me sleep now, please? We can talk about this in the morning.” Or never.

  “You are not my friend.”

  “Fine, I’m not your friend. Whatever. Can you go away now, please?”

  “You will rue this day.”

  She rolled her eyes. He always had to be so dramatic. Turning off the light, she sighed. “Okay, Niles. Whatever you say.”

  Crash.

  She flinched at the sound of breaking glass. “What did you do?”

  “You should have been my friend,” he said. “I keep telling you, you will not like me as an enemy.”

  * * *

  Terri’s eyes flew open. She’d fallen asleep in the parlor with a pile of water-damaged wallpaper around her. She startled to see a young man standing over her, watching her sleep.

  She recognized his image from photographs. Even his suit was the same. “Niles.”

  His angelic features contorted until they looked demonic. He sneered at her. “I despise you.”

  “What? Why? We’ve just met.” The boy’s aggression unnerved her. Why was he so furious? What had she done to upset him?

  “I despise you and your daughter. You are terrible, wicked people. I do not want you in my house.”

  “I thought you liked Dallas. I thought you were friends.” It was strange, referring to this boy as her daughter’s friend. He was so enraged he appeared deranged, and she was afraid of what he would do.

  “She is no friend. She is evil.”

  “Hey, that’s not—”

  “Leave Glenvale, and leave it now. This is your first and last warning.”

  She opened her eyes, her heart tripping in her chest. Where am I? This wasn’t the parlor. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she heard a bed creak, and felt a mattress sag underneath her. So she’d made it to bed, even though she didn’t remember it. Still, it didn’t feel like the master suite where she’d set up camp. Something troubled her, something that nagged at her and wouldn’t let her relax. It was more than the nightmare.

  A small window let in light, but the moon was almost new. She could make out white curtains fluttering in the draft. Squinting, she strained to see any other details. Furniture hovered in the corners, the darkness and the uncertainty of her situation turning them sinister. She looked to where a nightstand would typically be, and relief washed over her when she detected a familiar shape. Her fingers slid over the ceramic surface until she found what she’d been looking for: a switch.

  Please let it be plugged in.

  Click. The light temporarily blinded her, and as her eyes adjusted, more objects wavered into focus. Books. Peeling wallpaper. Model planes.

  Planes?

  When she spotted The Checkered Game of Life on top of a stack of games, her suspicion was confirmed. She was in Niles’s room, but why? How? She never would have come in here deliberately, and certainly never at night. Even in daylight she avoided it like the plague.

  Terri pressed her back to the headboard, struggling to get her breathing under control. This wasn’t the place to have a panic attack.

  There’s nothing to be afraid of. If Niles is here, he’s a ghost. And ghosts can’t hurt you.

  Once she felt calmer, stronger, she pushed aside the velvet coverlet. The room was freezing, and she shivered in her thin T-shirt and shorts. All of the house was cold, but Niles’s room was like an icebox. She didn’t understand how Dallas had managed to sleep here, even for a single night.

  Wishing for slippers, Terri touched her feet to the hardwood, which felt like ice under her toes. The powerful sensation that someone was watching her made the skin on the back of her neck prickle, and without thinking, she turned.

  The young man from her nightmare was there, his face mere inches from her own. Terri screamed.

  His lips curled back in a snarl, and before she could run, his hand lashed out at her cheek, his fingers hooked into claws.

  The searing pain of his nails digging furrows in her skin snapped her out of her daze. She ran for the door, but the closet flew open in front of her. She extended her arms to absorb the impact. The heavy wooden door slammed into her palms, sending sickening pain through her bones.

  “Mom? Mom, where are you?”

  An equal mix of relief and terror flooded through her. She had to protect Dallas, had to warn her daughter. But the only sound that escaped her lips was a gasp. She couldn’t speak.

  “Mom!”

  The fear in her daughter’s voice freed her own. “I’m in here. In Niles’s room.” She prayed that thing, whatever it had been – surely it wasn’t human – was gone.

  Terri flinched when the doorknob rattled.

  “It’s locked,” Dallas cried. She pounded on the door. “Mom, it’s locked. Let me in.”

  “I don’t understand, Niles,” Terri said under her breath. “What did we ever do to you?”

  She closed the closet, making sure it was shut tight before she leapt for the door. The porcelain knob was slick under her hands, but she forced it to turn. There was a popping noise, and the door opened.

  Dallas stood shivering in the hallway, her feet bare and her hair disheveled. Her eyes were wide and panicked, and her chest hitched with every breath. “What were you doing in there?” she asked, her eyes widening. “And what happened to your face?”

  Chapter Nine

  The warmth of the sun on their backs belied the gravity of their conversation. The bench was solid and comforting, the worn wood like an old friend.

  Dallas tilted her chin upwards and closed her eyes. “This is nice. So much better than that stinky old house.”

  Their love affair with Glenvale was over.

  Her first instinct was to be defensive, to claim the house wasn’t that bad. That she was doing this for them, for their future.

  But then her cheek burned, and she remembered.

  It was that bad.

  “It’s always so cold in there, no matter how hot it is outside. What’s with that?”

  “Old houses are drafty,” Terri replied absently, her m
ind a million miles away. When she gave her notice, how hard would Henrietta Vandermere work to destroy her? Would she write it off as another employee with too much imagination, or would it become an all-out vendetta? Would Terri be able to find another job before their savings ran out?

  The feeling of being trapped was never a pleasant one, and in this case, the cage was an iron maiden with spikes instead of bars. Her failed marriage had been easier to escape.

  “Mom, I’m really sorry about your face.”

  “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt,” Terri lied, though it stung something awful. She’d applied aloe vera to the deep scratches, and the resulting pain had nearly made her scream. She raised her hand to touch the wounds, but thought better of it.

  “It looks sore. Is it my fault?” Dallas’s voice cracked, and Terri put an arm around her daughter, gratified when she didn’t pull away.

  “Of course not.”

  “But I’m the one who made him angry.” She’d reiterated her conversation the night before, but Terri found it difficult to accept that they were talking about a ghost. A ghost with the capability of gouging her face and trashing the house. Before attacking her, he’d shattered the Tiffany lamp in Emma’s room. “I just don’t understand why you were in his room.”

  “I don’t either. I must have sleepwalked.” The notion was unsettling. The last thing she remembered was working in the parlor. The final remnants of the wallpaper had detached from the walls under her steamer, and though she’d been exhausted, she was determined to clean up the room before going to bed. She couldn’t recall even thinking of Niles’s room, let alone going there.

  Dallas’s brow creased, making her look much older than her ten years, and Terri longed to smooth the lines from her forehead. She hated that she’d been the one to put them there. “You don’t sleepwalk, Mom.”

  “Maybe I do now. Maybe it’s the stress.” Lord knows there had been plenty of that.

  “I don’t think so.” Dallas leaned against her, settling her body against Terri’s as if it were no big deal. The events of the night before had changed her daughter, at least temporarily. She’d gone from standoffish to craving affection. “I think he did something to you, something that made you go in there so he could hurt you. I called him a brat last night, but he’s more than a brat. I think he’s evil, Mom.”