for a few days, and let him cool off.”
“Well, it is the weekend.”
“And it means you’ll be spending tomorrow with me, shopping.”
“Are you asking or telling me?”
He did grin that time. “Asking, of course.”
“Does it include a bookstore?”
He stepped back, an indignant look on his face. “Who spends money on video games or clothes when there are novels to be read?”
I laughed. “What time?”
“Noon.”
Grant blew out a long breath. “Sorry, Sis. I’m just not in a great mood. How are we getting home?”
“I’ll take you guys. It’s my fault you missed the bus anyway.” Haven pulled out his keys again, glancing at Grant.
“Thanks. We really appreciate it.”
The drive to the house was quiet and short. Mom was already gone, but a red note fluttered on the outside of the screen door. The bottom dropped out of my stomach.
“Thanks for the ride, Haven.”
He climbed out with us, standing with his door open. “Listen, if you get in trouble for today, blame it on me.”
“You didn’t make me go. I’ll deal with it,” I said.
Grant grabbed both our book bags from the trunk. “Don’t worry. Mom has to get her head out of her ass in order to even notice.”
Haven reached out and shoved at his shoulder. “You remember what I told you.”
Grant nodded. “Yeah, I know. Thanks for the ride, man.”
He waited until we unlocked the door before pulling out of the driveway. The note wasn’t from Mom like I thought. Inside were only a few hastily scribbled lines.
One of the deepest circles of Hell is reserved for traitors and betrayers. We need to talk.
I didn’t need to read the signature to know who it was from.
Chapter Thirteen
Grant and I decided to put in a movie after dinner. I let him pick a horror flick because it was the only way to distract him from hunting for the note. I told him it was from Mom, but he knew I lied. Watching a slasher flick was probably a poor life choice to begin with, but when I realized I needed to start a load of laundry afterward, it seemed even worse than normal. Grant had turned another movie on and shoved a bag of popcorn in the microwave.
The smell of butter popcorn tickled my nose, mingling with the musty odor of damp concrete and dirt wafting up the stairwell from the basement. I paused in the doorway, my laundry basket propped on my hip.
Dread and revulsion swirled in my stomach. I didn’t want to go, but I liked dirty undies even less. I fumbled along the wall for the light switch, and the bare bulb which hung halfway down the stairs flickered to life. Another light farther back also illuminated the bottom of the stairs in a sickly yellow glow.
Swallowing hard, I headed down. My fingers kept a white-knuckle grip on the banister. We hadn’t painted or done more than sweep and knock the worst of the spider webs down. It had taken two plumbers and three electricians to get the washer and dryer installed and the furnace and water heater up-to-date. They kept leaving, all citing different reasons. Now, down here alone, I understood they were all lies. The second my feet hit the bottom step, the skin between my shoulder blades itched as if someone watched me. Someone who thought I invaded their space.
Okay. Focus. Put the laundry in and get the hell out of here.
I shivered. The temperature seemed several degrees cooler as well, but it was the basement. All basements were cold and damp. I repeated the words like a mantra as I made my way across the room. Even so, goose bumps rose on my arms, and I tried to ignore the small white puffs my breath made. No basement was this cold in summer.
I wanted to run back upstairs and nail the door shut. Instead, I dumped my clothes in the washer, chucked some soap in, and closed the lid. Right when I pulled the knob out to start the cycle, every light went out.
Heavy panting came from behind me, moving so close an ice-cold breeze rustled the hair next to my ear. My mouth opened, but no sound
“Well, it is the weekend.”
“And it means you’ll be spending tomorrow with me, shopping.”
“Are you asking or telling me?”
He did grin that time. “Asking, of course.”
“Does it include a bookstore?”
He stepped back, an indignant look on his face. “Who spends money on video games or clothes when there are novels to be read?”
I laughed. “What time?”
“Noon.”
Grant blew out a long breath. “Sorry, Sis. I’m just not in a great mood. How are we getting home?”
“I’ll take you guys. It’s my fault you missed the bus anyway.” Haven pulled out his keys again, glancing at Grant.
“Thanks. We really appreciate it.”
The drive to the house was quiet and short. Mom was already gone, but a red note fluttered on the outside of the screen door. The bottom dropped out of my stomach.
“Thanks for the ride, Haven.”
He climbed out with us, standing with his door open. “Listen, if you get in trouble for today, blame it on me.”
“You didn’t make me go. I’ll deal with it,” I said.
Grant grabbed both our book bags from the trunk. “Don’t worry. Mom has to get her head out of her ass in order to even notice.”
Haven reached out and shoved at his shoulder. “You remember what I told you.”
Grant nodded. “Yeah, I know. Thanks for the ride, man.”
He waited until we unlocked the door before pulling out of the driveway. The note wasn’t from Mom like I thought. Inside were only a few hastily scribbled lines.
One of the deepest circles of Hell is reserved for traitors and betrayers. We need to talk.
I didn’t need to read the signature to know who it was from.
Chapter Thirteen
Grant and I decided to put in a movie after dinner. I let him pick a horror flick because it was the only way to distract him from hunting for the note. I told him it was from Mom, but he knew I lied. Watching a slasher flick was probably a poor life choice to begin with, but when I realized I needed to start a load of laundry afterward, it seemed even worse than normal. Grant had turned another movie on and shoved a bag of popcorn in the microwave.
The smell of butter popcorn tickled my nose, mingling with the musty odor of damp concrete and dirt wafting up the stairwell from the basement. I paused in the doorway, my laundry basket propped on my hip.
Dread and revulsion swirled in my stomach. I didn’t want to go, but I liked dirty undies even less. I fumbled along the wall for the light switch, and the bare bulb which hung halfway down the stairs flickered to life. Another light farther back also illuminated the bottom of the stairs in a sickly yellow glow.
Swallowing hard, I headed down. My fingers kept a white-knuckle grip on the banister. We hadn’t painted or done more than sweep and knock the worst of the spider webs down. It had taken two plumbers and three electricians to get the washer and dryer installed and the furnace and water heater up-to-date. They kept leaving, all citing different reasons. Now, down here alone, I understood they were all lies. The second my feet hit the bottom step, the skin between my shoulder blades itched as if someone watched me. Someone who thought I invaded their space.
Okay. Focus. Put the laundry in and get the hell out of here.
I shivered. The temperature seemed several degrees cooler as well, but it was the basement. All basements were cold and damp. I repeated the words like a mantra as I made my way across the room. Even so, goose bumps rose on my arms, and I tried to ignore the small white puffs my breath made. No basement was this cold in summer.
I wanted to run back upstairs and nail the door shut. Instead, I dumped my clothes in the washer, chucked some soap in, and closed the lid. Right when I pulled the knob out to start the cycle, every light went out.
Heavy panting came from behind me, moving so close an ice-cold breeze rustled the hair next to my ear. My mouth opened, but no sound
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