Part 24 (1/2)

”Why are you here?”

The same words were rewritten below.

I dont know. Im scared. I want to go home ”Where's home?”

I DONT KNOW;.

Then something slammed against the mirror with wall-rattling force to create a spider-web shatter the size of a basketball. The lights went out and a blast of cold tore through the bathroom, plunging the climate from rain forest to arctic circle. Lyle leaped for the light switch but his bare foot hit a puddle; he slipped and went down just as he heard another booming impact break more of the mirror. Gla.s.s confetti peppered him with the third impact. He crouched on his knees with his forehead against the floor, hands clasped over the back of his head as whatever was in the room with him pounded the mirror again and again in a fit of mindless rage.

And then as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

Slowly, cautiously, Lyle raised his head in the echoing darkness. Somewhere in the house-down the hall-he heard running footsteps, and then his brother's voice.

”Lyle! Lyle, you all right?” The bedroom light came on. ”Dear G.o.d, Lyle, where are you?”

”In here.”

He rose to his knees but could find neither the strength nor the will to regain his feet. Not yet.

He heard Charlie's approach and called out, ”Don't come in. There's gla.s.s on the floor. Just reach in and hit the light.”

Lyle was facing away from the doorway. When the light came on he looked over his shoulder and saw a wide-eyed and slack-jawed Charlie staring at him.

”What the f.u.c.k-” Charlie began, then caught himself. ”Dear Lord, Lyle, what you done?”

Charlie's use of a word he had expunged from his vocabulary since he'd been born again told Lyle the true depth of his brother's shock. Looking around, he couldn't blame him. Glittering slivers and pebbles of gla.s.s littered the floor; the big mirror looked as if Shaq had been bouncing a granite basketball against it.

”Wasn't me.”

”Then who?”

”Don't know. See if you can find a blanket and throw it on the floor so I can get out of here without making hamburger of my feet.”

While Charlie went looking, Lyle pushed himself to his feet and turned, careful to stay in the gla.s.s-free circle of floor under him.

Charlie reappeared with a blanket. ”This one pretty thin but-”

He stopped and stared, a look of abject horror stretching his features.

”What?”

Charlie pointed a wavering finger at Lyle's chest. ”Oh, G.o.d, Lyle, you-you cut yourself!”

Lyle looked down and felt his knees soften when he saw his T-s.h.i.+rt front soaked in crimson. He pulled up the s.h.i.+rt and this time his knees wouldn't hold him. They buckled and he crumbled to the floor when he saw the deep gash in his chest, so deep he could see his convulsively beating heart through the opening.

He looked up at Charlie, met his terrified eyes, tried to mouth a word or two but failed. He looked down again at his chest...

And it was whole. Intact. Clean. No hole, no blood, not a drop on his skin or his s.h.i.+rt.

Just like what had happened to Charlie last night.

He looked up at his brother again. ”You saw that, right? Tell me you saw it this time.”

Charlie was nodding like a bobble-head doll. ”I saw it, I saw it! I thought you was buggin' last night, but now... I mean, what-?”

”Throw that blanket down. I want to get out of here.”

Charlie held onto one end and tossed the rest toward Lyle. They spread it out atop the gla.s.s-littered tile and Lyle crawled-he didn't trust his legs to support him so he crawled crawled-to the door.

When he reached the carpet Lyle stayed down, huddling, shaking. He wanted to sob, wanted to vomit. Things he'd always disbelieved were proving true. The pillars of his world were crumbling.

”What just happened in there, Lyle?” Charlie said, kneeling beside him and laying an arm across his shaking shoulders. ”What this all about?”

Lyle gathered himself, swallowed the bile at the back of his throat, and straightened his spine.

”You know what you said about this house being haunted? I'm beginning to think you're right.” He looked up at the clock radio, which now read 1:11 1:11. Who knew how long it had been running backwards. It could be three in the morning for all he knew. ”f.u.c.kit, I know know you're right.” you're right.”

”What we do about it, man?”

Something strange and angry had invaded their house. Was that anger directed at him? At Charlie? He hoped not, because he sensed it ran wide and frighteningly deep. Charlie wanted to know what they were going to do. How could he answer that without even knowing what they were facing?

He grabbed Charlie's arm and got to his feet.

”I don't know, Charlie. But I know one thing we're not not doing, and that's leaving. This is doing, and that's leaving. This is our our place now and n.o.body, living or dead, is chasing us out.” place now and n.o.body, living or dead, is chasing us out.”

MONDAY.

1.

Gia was staring at the clock when the phone rang.

She sat at the kitchen table, a mug of green tea cooling next to her elbow. An hour, almost to the minute, since she'd called Dr. Eagleton's office about her pregnancy test. The receptionist had said her results weren't in yet, but she'd call the Beth Israel lab and have them fax it over.

Jack was gone. After making a few cryptic calls earlier this morning, he'd gone out to run a few errands, and since then Gia had barely moved.

But she moved now, rising, stepping to the phone, checking the caller ID, seeing the name A. Eagleton MD A. Eagleton MD on the display. Her breath caught a moment, she hesitated, then s.n.a.t.c.hed up the receiver. on the display. Her breath caught a moment, she hesitated, then s.n.a.t.c.hed up the receiver.