Wraithborne

By Ashley Roland

Nick moved his family to his childhood home in hopes of salvaging his marriage. His wife, a talented artist, pops pills to escape the pain caused by multiple miscarriages and his decade-long affair with his high school sweetheart. Even though the woman is dead, she still continues to haunt Nick, in the form of the son he never knew he had, Remy.

The crumbling estate next to their home is supposed to be haunted. Even though it frightens her, Vada can't stay away. Especially when the handsome, charming caretaker, Beau, begins to show her the attention her husband fails to show her. He promises her passion, affection, fulfillment in every way...and an unimaginable power, if she'll join his cult.

She resists both the man and the offer, even as Remy begins to behave in frightening ways. A monster stalks them and terrible hallucinations torment Vada. Are they products of her years of drug abuse, or supernatural warnings? Can she find the strength to save her husband from a terrible fate, or will she embrace the power Beau offers her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ashley Roland
• Release date: Mar 24, 2015

Book preview

Chapter 1

Blue lights flashed once, twice, in Vada’s rearview mirror. She froze, every muscle in her body going tight and hard from fear. The static grinding forth from the radio speakers was as gray as the sky overhead. She flicked the dial and silenced the radio. One hand fumbled for her wallet. Her fingers touched the cold brass box that held her salvation, her chemical normality-inducer. She pushed it deeper into her purse.

She chomped down on her bottom lip, hard enough to hurt, and pulled over. The patrol car pulled up behind her, angled slightly on the shoulder of the road. The deputy shifted behind the wheel, barely visible through a particularly bright reflection of the sun, opened the door.

I’m so frickin’ high, he’ll know the second he looks at me. She ate pills to stay normal, most days, but today, she’d taken more than ever. Some days, existing just hurt too much. Twelve years of lies cut pretty deep, left too many wounds, way more than time could ever heal.

I’m high and he’ll know.

The deputy adjusted his dark, aviator sunglasses—corny idiot, she thought—and sauntered to her door. She rolled the window down. The crank took all her strength to force around, down.

The tall, lean cop braced one hand on the roof of the car and stared at her. She couldn’t see his eyes through the dark glasses, but she felt his glare.

He knows, he knows, he knows!

You know how fast you were going, ma’am? The cop spoke with the stereotypical ominous drawl all movie bad-guy cops adopted.

Few miles over the limit, I think. Vada spoke carefully, even though she knew exactly how fake it sounded. The cop’s eyebrows twitched, lowered. She still couldn’t see his eyes and that freaked her out more than anything. His thin lips tightened into a white slash.

Step out of the car, ma’am.

Vada’s stomach dropped to her feet. The cop backed away from the car, so she could push open the door. She rose from her seat and stepped out, to the side. The cop slammed the car door.

He flicked his glasses up, so they sat on the top of his head. Bright blue eyes pierced through the haze of Vada’s thoughts. Do you have any weapons on your person?

Why don’t you check and see? she challenged. The cop’s right eyebrow perked up. He gripped her shoulder and spun her around, pushing her against the side of the car. He stepped up close, his body heat biting through the nipping cold. His knee jammed between her thighs, spreading her legs. Hard hands started at her shoulders and moved down, squeezing, kneading, taking way too many liberties. Over her hips, down her legs, between her legs—

He pressed against her, wrapping his arms around her chest and slid his hands underneath her shirt. His hot, moist hands against her cool skin triggered a shiver she couldn’t suppress. Close, he chuckled, a low sound that vibrated in her ear. Electric sensations shot through her body, heart to groin, bringing layers of goose bumps to her skin.

Nick, somebody could see us— She gasped, breaking the rules, using his name. His lips, hot and damp and busy kissing the back of her neck, paused.

Babe, we’re on a semi-private road in the middle of nowhere that only leads to two places. Our house and the Estate.

She twisted around in his arms and braced her forearms on his chest. She squeezed his shoulders lightly, tugging him closer, so she could whisper in his ear.

The dashboard camera, doofus.

He dodged away from her, cursing. Damn it. You know what, it’s fine. It’s all right. It’s not like they check the footage.

Vada crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her hip. "Yeah, it’ll be fine when you get written up again. You’ve had your probation extended how many times now? She licked her lips, tasted him. Come here, Nick. She held out her arms. They know we’re married and they know we’re having…trouble. If anything, you can play the psychological distress card and ask for counseling. Or whatever."

Nick shook his head and stalked back to his cruiser, leaving her cold. Just make sure you’re waiting for Remy. I don’t want him walking home.

Vada heaved a sigh and let her arms drop to her sides. A numbing slosh of medicinal calmness dampened her irritation. Love those Oxys. Time-release, yeah baby! Yeah, yeah, I know. Some boogeyman from the Estate might get him.

It’s a long walk for a ten-year old.

He’s almost eleven.

Once again, it’s a long walk.

Don’t worry, Nick. I’ll be right there waiting for your— She clamped her lips shut on the word bastard and said instead, saccharine-sweetly, "son when he gets off the bus."

He gazed at her suspiciously. He opened his mouth to say something but his radio interrupted him. I have to go. Just be there, okay?

Dude, I’m there every day. I’ve never missed in the however-flippin’-many months we’ve been here. She flounced back into her car, gunned the engine, and pulled back onto the road. All around the car, the wind gusted hard enough to make it shudder. With clenched teeth, Vada worked the brake pedal. The wind made her nervous.

She flicked the radio knob. ...with wind chill around twenty-five degrees, it’s going to be a coooold night! The DJ rambled on about the low chance for rain. Don’t pack the shorts away yet, folks, it’s going to warm up with highs in the low seventies.

After almost a year in Delavista, she still found the DJs and newscasters unfamiliar. The same with the layout of the local Wal-Mart, the way grocery stores always seemed backwards. Nick shrugged off her homesickness and told her she would get used to it. She knew she would, eventually, but that didn't stop her from missing the little town where she grew up, on Florida's west coast. The worst part of it was the not-so-subtle, slow, withdrawal of the man she had loved for the last twelve years.

Vada sighed and glanced at the dashboard clock. She had spent longer than she intended to in the art supply store. In twenty minutes, Remy would be getting off the bus at the foot of the private road that wound past the massive old Wraithborne Estate to their house, the renovated overseer's house.

Maybe it wasn't nutso. Nick’s fears were well-founded. When he was sixteen, some psycho had viciously murdered his uncle, three teenagers, and nearly killed his best friend, Danielle, who grew up as twisted as they could come and ended up seducing Nick into an eleven-year-plus affair. She’d offed herself a year earlier, but not before she'd dropped a lil' present on their doorstep.

Remy. Nearly eleven. Holding folded, rumpled, water-stained paternity test results that confirmed Nick was his father.

Her buzz began to wear off. A good high from the Oxycontin would last a good six or eight hours. Should last more, but taking twelve or so a day upped her tolerance. Wouldn’t hurt to pop another.

Wait for Remy. Vada rolled her eyes. Remy, Remy, Remy. Her fingers slipped into the open mouth of her purse and touched the cool, textured surface of the pillbox. Just thinking about Remy made her sick.

She pulled out the little metal box and flipped it open. Seven pills lay in the bottom, vibrating slightly from the movement of the car and the subtle pulse in her leg.

She picked one out and held it to her lips. Nick hated the pills and she'd sworn to him she was off them. So she lied...it was his fault she was on them, anyway. Not that he believed her when she said she was off. He knew what she acted like when she detoxed, and then when she was off.

She rolled her eyes. Deputy Hawkeye there didn’t even notice how blitzed I am!

At home, she crushed and snorted the powder. The high hit quicker, though it didn’t last as long. She saved that for the days when the mess of her life seemed too tangled to sort out.

Vada opened her mouth, ready to let the narcotic drop to her tongue, when a figure in a bright red jacket caught her eye, standing just inside the rusted remains of the cast iron fence that separated the Wraithborne Estate from the rest of the world.

She slammed on brakes. The pillbox flew off her lap and the contents scattered all over the driver's side floorboards. Cursing under her breath, she tucked the pill she still clutched between her thumb and index finger into the pocket of her jacket, and drove the car onto the shoulder of the road. The wind threatened to tear the car door from her hand as she stepped out.

Remy! She screamed over the roar of the wind. The kid in the red jacket took off away from the fence, lacing his way through the sparse woods. No, Remy! Get back here! She hit the fence with her palm and ran a few steps down, hands fluttering over the ornate iron rods, seeking a way in. Whip-thin weeds slapped at her ankles. Brambly growths snagged her capri tights. What the hell is the kid doing in the woods, on the main Estate grounds?

She squinted through the overgrown foliage. Three kids ran down the steps from the open front door of the estate.

If the bus let him off early, he knew to head down the road to the renovated cottage. He knew Nick didn't want him out here. Even talking about coming out to the main house started trouble.

A big brick pillar protruded from the overgrown woods and brush. Vada tore away the biggest branch, relieved to see enough broken bricks in the pillar to allow her to scale it. She wedged the toes of her foot into the crevice of some broken bricks and hauled herself up. The old, grainy bricks dug into her fingers. Her knee scraped against the surface. The skin ripped and blood ran down her leg, cooling in the chilly air. The wind whipped, demon-driven, around her, catching in her jacket and hair like icy hands.

Remy! She could still see him, dodging through the trees, running even deeper into the woods. The wind blew harder, slapping branches into her face and tangling in her hair. Just as Remy disappeared from her sight, the bricks she clutched with her left hand crumbled and gave way, dumping her to the ground. Shards of brick rained down on her. Before she could raise her arms to shield her face, a chunk of red brick sliced her cheek.

The wind tasted her blood and died away after one last, sharp gust left her gasping. Shivering, she pushed herself upright.

Remy, she puffed. Remy!

Nick would hate her if something happened to him. She would hate herself if she hurt Nick by not taking care of his child. Before she could dwell on that new can of worms, she forced herself back to the present. Past hurts were past hurts. What did she have the drugs for, if not to dull everything, to make her forget?

She levered herself to her feet and ran back to her car. With the pedal to the metal, she hauled ass for the main gate. Although Nick made her swear she wouldn't ever go onto the main property—as if he actually cares!—she didn't hesitate to park outside the gate and squeeze through the narrow gap between the two sides.

Although someone had tried to fix the gates a few times, they couldn't get the two wings to meet perfectly. An off-duty cop had to guard the place on Halloween and certain pagan holidays. It had a reputation for being a great spot to contact the spirits that clung to the Estate like parasites.

Skeletal shadows thrown by long-dead oaks fell over the long driveway beyond the main gate. Patchwork pieces of pale sand and black dirt surrounded crunchy dry grass. A tiny brown bird swooped down out of the dead trees and snatched a worm from the grass. The sudden burst of movement startled Vada.

Remy! Where are you? Her voice echoed back to her. Come on, kid! Your dad is going to kill us!

The sound of children’s laughter echoed down the driveway.

Stifling a short shriek, Vada whipped around. She stared into the thin shadows formed by the wide boles of the trees and the dense, overgrown shrubbery. Crows cawed from the bare treetops.

Chills raced up and down her spine. Overhead, thunder rumbled. Two cold drops of rain splattered on her left cheek. She touched the moisture with her fingertips. The wind gusted, cold and sharp. Shivering, she wrapped her jacket tighter around her body. Stupid, wearing a knee-length skirt and my thinnest jacket in this weather! As cold as the air felt on her exposed skin, she figured no way the temp could rise to high-sixties tomorrow, like the forecaster promised. This is Florida. I don't know crap about cold weather.

Remy, I swear, I will ground you for the rest of the year if you don't answer me! She stomped her foot. I mean it!

The kid's usual answer floated up out of her memory. You're not my mother!

Thank God, she said aloud, even though she’d only said the shameful mantra in the sanctity of her mind before now.

Something big crashed around in the woods to her right. She jerked sideways, staring into the trees. Adrenaline shot through her body like a wave of ice water. Her muscles tingled and went numb from fear. Cold sweat broke out on her body, chilling her even further.

R-Remy?

You’re trespassing! The voice startled her so badly she cried out and doubled over. She spun around and watched a tall man step out of the bushes. You need to leave, lady.

My stepson ran on to the property, Vada said, her voice shaking. Dizziness made her wobble. The man stepped forward and caught her before she fell. Hands on her shoulders, his gaze met hers. She froze, arrested by the intensity of his eyes. His eyes were gray, a strange contrast to his coffee-and-cream complexion.

You all right? he asked.

You really scared me, she answered. She couldn’t get enough air into her lungs.

Sorry, beautiful. We don’t get many innocent visitors out here. You said your son ran on to the property?

Bastard isn’t my kid, she said before her social filter kicked in. Ugh, yeah. I mean, my stepson.

The guy shook his head. I haven’t seen anybody. I’ve been out front for the last hour or so.

I saw his jacket. It’s bright red. There were three other kids too. They ran out of the estate.

Lady, I promise, he wasn’t over here. He licked his bottom lip, then bit it, pensive. This place, though…it’s special. Sometimes it lets you see things ordinary people can’t.

Vada frowned. I don’t know what that really means. I’m not looking for ghosts or whatever. Just the kid.

What’s your name?

Vada. We live in the cottage next door. Maybe he ran through the woods.

Maybe. He held out his hand. I’m Beau. I’m working on renovating the estate.

She could see the front of the estate down the long drive. The whole place? By yourself?

He nodded. For now. I’m mostly working on the artwork inside. In a few weeks, there will be a few construction crews out here to work on the big stuff.

Vada glanced over her shoulder. It’s nice to meet you, Beau, but I need to go see if the kid is at home.

Why don’t you head back out the gate, and I’ll go through the path in the woods? One of us will find him, I’m sure.

Sure.

See you in a few minutes. He smiled and squeezed her shoulder. To her surprise, the contact sent a hot little spark through her. She felt herself flush and quickly turned away. She jogged back toward the gate. Didn’t realize she’d walked so far.

As she approached the gate, a branch fell from the top of a tree and a murder of crows took flight, swirling and dipping around her head in a frenzy. Crying out, Vada covered her head and ran back toward the gate.

"Mine." The voice stopped her dead in her tracks. The crows vanished, dissolved into a lazy drift of leaves that fluttered to the ground around her. "They're both mine."

With her heart nearly flatlining from the adrenaline flooding her system, she turned around. In the middle of the path, just a few yards away, a woman stared at her with huge, bloodshot blue eyes. Long, blond hair parted in the middle fell around her face, all the way to her ribs. Red streaks glimmered vibrant in the gray afternoon. Bright crimson droplets fell from the ends of her hair and soaked into the fraying fabric of her vest.

Vada caught her breath when she realized the stuff on the girl’s short denim skirt and faded pink tights was blood. Handprints, splotches, splatters, streaks. So much blood! Vada stared, morbidly fascinated. The neon-pink vest's white insulation, grayed from exposure and age, hung out in matted clumps.

A-are you okay? Vada asked, backing up a step. The girl, a teenager, sixteen, eighteen at the most, looked like death. Ice-blue lips stood out against skin the same gray color as the sky. Vada couldn’t look away from the dull, dry eyes.

Vada took another step back. My husband's a cop. He's just down the road. I-I'm going to get him and be right back. Just stay here.

This is a hallucination, Vada. Turn around and it'll be gone. Blink, breathe. Just your head, screwing with you.

The girl took a step forward. I already had him, she said with a voice like velvet on sandpaper.

This is no hallucination. Vada knew hallucinations. She'd been plagued with them since her first trip down the rabbit hole. The girl standing in front of her aged in a split second. The lines around her mouth deepened. The crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes darkened. In seconds, she transformed into the woman Vada despised most, the woman Vada blamed for everything wrong in the last twelve years.

Danielle.

Vada turned and ran, forgetting about Remy, thinking only of getting away from a woman who had been dead for a year.

Chapter 2

The house looked dead. Not a single light burned in any of the windows. Nick frowned and parked his cruiser next to Vada's old car. Frost brightened the windows. The dropping temp lent a biting chill to the air, not bad, but definitely uncomfortable. Dusk turned to night and the mercury kept dropping.

He gathered up his backpack from the front seat floorboard and started toward the dark, quiet cottage. An oppressive sense of loneliness weighed on his shoulders. Maybe Vada took the kid out somewhere. Nick snorted cynically. Yeah, right. Vada hates my son.

He corrected himself. All right, so maybe it’s not the kid she hates, just everything he stands for. She’s not irrational; she knows there’s no reason to hate a child.

A reality he hated to face, one that haunted his nightmares, the deepest part of his soul, swam up to stare him in the face. It’s me she hates. Of course, his man-sense kicked in.

Hell no. Not my fault. It’s those damn pills. They make her crazy, and that makes me crazy.

He stuck his key in the front door and jiggled the lock. The old door stuck sometimes, no matter how much WD-40 he used in the lock and on the hinges. The wind gusted hard against the front of the house, rattling the ancient warped glass in the windows. From the direction of the barn, something fell, wood on metal. As he stepped into the warm house, he wondered what was big enough out near the barn to sound like a gong. Maybe Remy had unearthed something in his constant exploration.

A comforting blast of warm air greeted him as he entered, but as he walked toward the kitchen at the back of the house, the chill increased. No sign of Vada. Hadn't made it home yet. Maybe she had taken Remy somewhere. The house looked no different from when he had left at six that morning for his shift. Coffee cups still in the sink, the chicken she had set out still on the stove, thawed but now ruined. Grimacing, he picked up the dripping wet bundle of limp raw meat and plastic wrap and dropped it into the garbage can, which hadn't been taken out, either. The smell of day-old coffee grinds mingled with the scent of the paper towels Vada used to mop up the orange juice Remy spilled at the table that morning.

Vada? he called. Maybe she was sleeping. Although it had been about a year, the move had been really tough on her. Another thing she hates me for. Taking her away from the only home she ever knew.

South Florida never felt like home. Something drew him back home, back to Delavista.

Back to Wraithborne Estate.

He paced back through the kitchen, the dining room. At the stairs, he paused to reach up and touch the lintel of the low, square archway that divided the living room from the dining room and the kitchen.

Nick took the stairs two at a time. He knocked once on the bedroom door before pushing it open. The bed, still unmade, felt cold to the touch, although he didn’t expect anything else. Empty bathrooms, empty bedrooms, empty office. The last room, Vada's unconscious shrine to her pain, always had a weird, occupied sense. A single painting hung on one wall, covered with a dusty white sheet.

It was Vada's best work. Back when her work sold like hotcakes and she was the 'it' girl for twisted art, she received amazing offers for the piece. Something in it spoke to screwed-up women, he guessed. Not something he understood, not in the least bit. He pulled the door shut and headed for the office.

Before he ducked out of the office, he paused. His computer monitor glowed bright in the deepening gloom of evening, bouncing off the blinds shielding the window behind the desk. Across the room, against the wall and beneath hanging shelves packed with art books, sketchpads, computer manuals, and other bits of Vada's collections, Vada's computer with its irrationally huge monitor remained dark.

As he watched, the screensaver switched on and bubbles with Remy's face and Vada's face bounced around from side to side. Puzzled, he wondered if Vada had left him a note on the computer. Weird, since he rarely got on it until after Remy went to bed. Vada didn’t need his computer. Why would she turn it on?

Nick reached out and touched the mouse. The screensaver froze and then disappeared. The word processor glared white after the black background of the screensaver. Nick blinked. His eyes focused on the three words typed across the page.

I miss you.

Huge, the words took up half the page. Nick scrolled down.

The second page had the words, Going to tell her you still love me love me lovemeloveme typed row after row after row. On to the third page, and the fourth. I miss youImissyouImissyouImissyou

He sucked in a cold breath. A hollow, achy feeling like after a particularly angry bully had just sucker-punched him blossomed in his gut.

Was this Vada's idea of a joke? Three years earlier, she found out about his infidelity. Already emotionally fragile from years of stress, a string of miscarriages, and whatever requisite artist-angst she suffered from, the revelation sent her into a tailspin of drugs and depression. Soon after, her fifth pregnancy ended at fifteen weeks and he found her bleeding to death in the bathtub.

She brought up Danielle’s name and the affair one last time—the day Remy showed up on their doorstep.

She didn’t know he continued to see Danielle and he never felt a single moment of regret.

Even through her hospitalization and the temporary separation, he couldn't break free. Unexpectedly, his lover vanished. He came back to Delavista, wife and son in tow, in time to watch the coffin cradling Danielle’s body lowered into the cold embrace of the Florida soil.

It didn’t seem wrong to move Vada and Remy home, after that.

Vada wouldn't type something like that. Remy, maybe. No, definitely. That kid had some major issues, that was for damn sure.

Nick hurried out of the room and down the stairs. On his way down the stairs, he checked his personal cell phone. No text messages, other than the one from automatic suspicious-activity alerting him to Vada’s three-hundred-dollar shopping spree.

Three hundred dollars. Good thing they didn’t have a mortgage.

He whipped around and hauled butt back up the stairs. In the office, he didn't see any new purchases. He checked her supply closet, the only one in the room, and found nothing new. Just the bins with their summer clothes, and some boxes they hadn't unpacked yet.

He braved the whipping wind and went back out to the cars. He popped open the trunk.

Five plastic bags emblazoned with the store logo rested atop half a dozen canvases of various sizes. Beside the canvases sat a huge brick of clay sealed in cellophane. New stuff, he mused, puzzling over the presence of the supplies, but the absence of his wife and son. She usually uses the cheap clay.

Nick admired Vada’s talent with Photoshop and traditional mediums, but he thought her sculptures needed some serious work. He knew, for sure, she would never even tear open the cellophane on that block of clay. He sighed and let the trunk lid fall shut.

Cold, irritated, and hungry, his temper crept up a notch. Vada! Where are you?

Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed a bright red flash in the woods. Vada?

Vada didn't have a red jacket. Remy did, though. Remy!

The surreal flash of color vanished into the cold, cold shadows. No way...Remy wouldn't do something as stupid as run around in the woods at night. Nick made it more than clear that Remy couldn’t play in the woods he wouldn’t allow playing Remy to play For any reason. It didn't matter if he saw a bag with a million dollars in it, those woods were off-limits.

A game trail ran just past a massive, old water oak, barely wide enough for one person to walk along. It led to the Estate. Just thinking about the Estate left Nick weak and nauseous from...

Not fear, exactly.

Anxiety might be a better word. Trepidation. Expectation.

Seventeen years ago, he’d found Danielle; bloody, beaten, violated, in the shadow of the Estate. Her sobs led him through a quarter mile of dense woods, in the darkest hours of the early morning nearly a week after she went missing. His uncle, the officer on Wraithborne patrol vanished as well. Someone found the blood-streaked car in the Estate’s front yard, which fueled the rumors of monsters and ghosts.

Nick found his uncle's body while following the soft sobs that echoed through his being. The man hung from a tree, a branch through his chest. Pinkish-gray loops and ropes of guts stretched from his uncle’s destroyed belly to the ground. The bloody, pale sand below the tree remained in Nick's mind long after that day; even more so than the terrified expression on his uncle's battered, ruined face, or the horrible details about the way he had died Nick later overheard.

Fifteen years later, just a few months past his thirty-first birthday, he could still see the frost-silvered length of his uncle's guts hanging out, tangled on the ground. Blood-smeared sand, and huge footprints not made by any human―or any sort of animal―Nick knew about.

Seventeen long years later, Nick stared into the black shadows of the woods, unable to force himself to take a single step into the trees.

His son was out there.

His wife was out there.

He just stood there, too damn scared to go after them.

Shaking like a leaf, weak, and sweating inside his thin jacket, Nick took a step backwards. He bumped into something warm and soft. Startled out of his wits he fell, fumbling for his gun even as he hit the ground. As fast as lightning, he jumped back on his feet, seeking his target. A big wet, cold clump of dirt slid down his face, into his jacket.

His eyes met the wide, frighteningly calm eyes of his wife. I can't find him, she said. Something about her slow, even words sounded forced, like a drunk trying to talk clearly. Dammit, she’s high. He bit back his instinctive barrage of accusations. That wouldn’t find Remy.

A thin, intentionally-ragged cardigan-thingy, completely inadequate for the chilly temp, hung off her arms. Shivers wracked her body. Knowing she wouldn't fight him, he gripped her shoulders and turned her around, so he could march her back to the house.

Halfway across the yard, she twisted around. I can't find him, Nick. Her big blue-gray eyes clouded with tears. I looked everywhere.

She sniffled and swiped her nose with a wadded-up tissue in her palm.

Just go inside, Vada. His jaw ached. He took a breath and forced his jaws to unclench

She shook her head. He's been gone all afternoon. I've been looking for him and I can't find him. He's been outside all afternoon.

Weren't you here when the bus let him off? Nick stepped back, hands on his hips. When did you take the Vicodin?

Percocet. I mean, just a little while ago. I've been looking for Remy, Nick. The bus was early. I can't find him.

Why weren't you here, Vada? You know you are supposed to be here. High or not.

She swallowed hard, slowly. He heard the liquid workings of her throat, and stepped back just in time to avoid the rush of fluid from her mouth. Five or six half-digested pills, pale green in the moonlight, glittered up at him from the gray sand. "You took six Percocets? What the hell, Vada? You know you have a kid to watch! That's friggin' why he's still outside! I swear, woman, if something has happened to my son—"

Levering herself up with her hands on her knees, she looked up at the sky. Spaced out, completely. You're worthless, Nick growled. He stomped off toward the woods again.

Faintly, he heard her say, I took eight.

* * * *

An hour later, as he searched through the decaying old barn, he caught a glimpse of a bright red jacket high in the loft. Remy!

The swatch of fabric moved and a pale face stared down at him. Hey, Nick.

What are you doing? You scared us to death. Come on down. Nick fought back his initial instinct to freak out and scare the kid to death with a sudden show of affection.

It took the kid a minute, but he finally figured out how to get down from the loft. Covered in bits of old sticky hay, he stood a few feet away. I didn't scare Vada. She was acting like she was mad at me.

Nick sighed. What did she do?

She was just screaming my name and telling me how much trouble I'd be in if I didn't come inside. That's not how you treat someone you want to come back.

Nick reached out and ruffled Remy's shaggy blond hair. He looked so much like his mom. Danielle had been a beauty, before Wraithborne got her. Even afterwards, Nick still found her magnetic. It wasn't much of a surprise to find himself in her bed more than a few times when she showed up in the tiny town in South Florida where he and Vada had settled down.

He hated hurting Vada. He knew his infidelity was like ripping her guts out and shoving them back in on fire. That on top of the string of miscarriages and the increasingly bad news from the doctors had nearly undone her.

The pale white scars that ran from her wrists nearly to her elbows remained a constant testament to how much of a jerk he was. Never there when she needed me.

They tried for a while to have a baby, but a doctor's report of a total blockage of her tubes by scar tissue nipped all their efforts in the bud.

Nick pulled his son against his side in an awkward hug. Let's go inside. See if we can scrape up something for supper.

Pizza?

Hmm...Maybe there's some in the freezer.

They trekked across the dark yard, their path lighted by the pale silver moonlight. Although the back door hung open, Vada left the lights off.

Maybe Vada hadn’t made it inside.

For a moment, Nick didn't care if she had or not. He remembered her hollow, dead eyes, staring at him in the yard a while ago. Something in their depths echoed what he saw in the black shadows in the woods.

What he'd seen in the dark windows of the Estate long ago.

The kitchen light snapped on, stark against the black shadow of the porch. Vada moved past the window over the sink.

Come on, Nick, she's going to start cooking something, Remy said, urging him forward. I want pizza!

Well, if she cooks, we should let her. Better than frozen pizza.

Ew. Maybe if you're old.

Hey, watch it.

Remy smirked at him, an expression that was all Danielle.

They’d cleared the barn by three steps when an ominous crack made them both jump and whirl around. Oh crap, Nick grunted, snagging the kid by the collar of his shirt and dragging him away as fast as he could.

Just in time, too. The ancient barn collapsed in an earth-shaking clatter of rotten beams, old hay, and enough dust to choke out the sun.

Remy turned wide eyes up toward Nick. Whoa.

Nick just shook his head. If his drug-addict wife didn't accidentally kill the kid, it definitely looked like he would.

* * * *

Vada fingered the pills in her pocket. Six left. She had puked up most of what she'd popped earlier. Her head started to clear, and the image of the girl she had seen in the driveway of the Estate began to creep back into her mind.

Bloody hair. Bruised face. Big, empty eyes.

Cold, white fingers reaching out for her. Help.

Vada shuddered. The open door had sucked out the meager amount of warm air left inside the house long ago. As she reached for it, Remy bounced in. He stuck out his tongue and made a smug face. She wished she could tell him how ridiculous he looked, but being an adult, she figured she would be the one who ended up looking ridiculous.

Sighing, Vada turned back to the package of chicken nuggets on the stove. Enough dope circulated in her system to keep her from caring too much. Otherwise, she might snap on the kid. Arrogant little brat. Oh, hey, guess he's Nick's kid after all!

Nick guided Remy through the kitchen and on into the darkened dining room. Big clods of black dirt marked their path. Nice of them to leave that for me to clean up. She dumped the bag of frozen nuggets onto a baking tray and slid it into the oven. Instant mashed potatoes went into a pot on the stove, and she popped steam-in-the-bag broccoli into the microwave.

She couldn't mess up anything already made. She heard a sound at the wide doorway between the kitchen and the formal dining room. Remy stood there, staring at her.

You saw her today. He looked old, so old. His creepy eyes stared into hers.

Who?

My mom.

Vada forced herself not to react, not to let that shudder race through her body. Honey, your mom is dead. There's no way I could have seen her today.

Remy smirked, that God-awful little expression that gave Vada the creeps. That doesn't mean you didn't see her. You're on drugs. You're crazy. Nick says so.

Nick does not say I'm crazy.

Remy's smirk got a little wider. He says you're broken inside.

Vada dropped the big silver serving spoon. It clattered to the floor, sending globs of hot, half-dissolved mashed potatoes flying against the stove and her legs and the floor. Go play, Remy. I don't have time for this.

The kid glanced at her through his eyelashes. Far too much clarity broke through her stupor. Along with clarity came fear.

* * * *

Silent, Nick stripped out of his pajama bottoms down to his boxer briefs and sat at the foot of the bed. Vada stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, toothbrush in hand, white foam caked at the corners of her mouth.

He wanted to grab her, shake her, scream at her to just get the hell over it already. She acted like somebody in mourning. He couldn't find where she stashed her pills, though it wasn't for lack of trying. He searched her purse, her drawers, her half of the office. Once, he dragged everything out of her supply closet. He found nothing in her car, in the bathroom. He even checked under the mattress! He set the alarm beside the bed with the touch of a button and stretched out.

See anything new? he called, impatient. He wanted to go to sleep, but the white-yellow glow of the bathroom lights blazing into the dark bedroom bit into his consciousness. At the very least, she could have shut the door. Sure, they’d been married for twelve years, but certain biological functions he preferred keeping private.

She whispered something. The soft sibilant sounds of her voice startled him.

What did you say, Vada? Nick sat up and edged off the bed. Warily, he padded toward the bathroom, the icy cold floorboards biting into the warmth of his feet.

Vada. He laid his hand on her cool shoulder.

She turned. Nick cringed and dodged back a step. Danielle glared at him, her eyes alive with fire and hate. You could have saved me. You can't save her. She smacked him hard across the face, and raked her nails across his cheek.

Dan—

The bathroom blurred and the walls stretched. The weight of the very air in the room threatened to break Nick's back. He stumbled backwards a step and hit the doorframe. The world popped into focus again.

Vada stared at him with a stricken expression on her pale face.

You...you called me—

Nick's blood ran cold and sweat blossomed beneath his armpits and across his shoulders and the small of his back. Vada, I thought I swear I saw her—

She