19
I feel my way overto the attic trapdoor on my hands and knees and slam my heels down on it in an attempt to kick it open, but it won’t open from the inside. The way the ladder folds up into itself and automatically latches underneath makes it impossible. My breath comes out in hot, wild bursts. It sounds like roaring in my ears. It’s too hot. I scream and bang my fists on the floor, then listen. I know at least Chase and Mila are down there.
The silence seems to stretch out for an hour, and the sound of my own panicked breathing echoes in the hollow room so loudly it creates the illusion of a chorus. I squeeze my eyes shut so a stray beam of moonlight won’t seep in through the window and illuminate a roomful of faces, quiet watchers sitting silently around me, breathing the same hot air in unison, still and patient as death. It strikes me that the chorus that isn’t there sounds louder the more I panic, and if I hold my breath, I would have proof that it’s my fear getting the best of me. But if I hold my breath and the chorus continues, what then? A quiet shuffling, dust scraping across the attic floor, a sense of sudden closeness? A rhythmic pulse of air on the back of my neck, timed to the gasping breaths? A hand on my arm, or throat, ice-cold and strong as steel, the grip of bones closing to crush?Terror washes over me as my breath freezes in my throat, and I cover my ears and scream.
There’s a sudden burst of fresh air, and I hear Chase’s voice. “Chelsea?”
I launch myself toward him and feel my way down the stairs, and he grabs my waist halfway down and helps me back into Kennedy’s room. “There’s something up there.”
He climbs the stairs cautiously, looks around, and returns. “It looks empty to me.”
“Therewassomething. And someone slammed the door on me.”
“What were you doing up there?”
“Looking for Ryan!” I point to Mila. “You said you heard him up there.”
“I said I heardsomeoneup there. Everyone else was accounted for.” But Ryan was accounted for too. If Kennedy is telling the truth, he wasn’t even here. Mila gives me a look. “It wasn’t a ghost.” But as she speaks, she tugs at her hair like a child clutching a security blanket, so hard it makes my skull ache.
I hand Chase the book and hold the candle up for him to see. “Someone made this into a flip-book. Look.”
He glances down at it dubiously but begins to flip the pages. As the stick-figure scene plays out before him, his face transforms, his lips going taut. When the book flips to the last page, a flash of color catches my eye and I reach for it. It’s the tarot card. The woman standing on the boat. I gaze up at the attic. Wherever he is now, Ryanwasup there at one point.
Mila takes the tarot card. “What is this?”
“Nothing. One of Emily’s cards.”
“It looks a lot like Kennedy.Trust at your peril?”
But Chase ignores us, still staring at the flip-book. “This isn’t funny.”
I stuff the tarot card into my pocket. “I didn’t do this. Look at me.”
Chase raises his eyes to mine. For the first time this evening, I see actual fear in them.
“I didn’t do it.”
“For fuck’s sake, Chase, she’s not lying. She’s terrified.” Mila takes the book and flips through several times, studying it without emotion. “Five figures. One is a hangman.” She snaps it shut. “There are only four of us. Unless Ryan really is still here. But then where is he?”
“Unless it’s Emily,” I whisper. Ryan wouldn’t do this. Couldn’t.
“What’s going on?”
We snap our heads up in unison. Kennedy stands in the doorway, holding another candle.
Chase puts his arm around Mila. “Chelsea got trapped in the attic.”
He had to throw me under the bus. “I thought I heard something up there.”
Kennedy’s eyes fall on the book in Mila’s hand. “What are you reading?”
“Some old library book.” Mila hands it to Kennedy. “A ghost story.” There’s no mistaking the mocking undertone in her voice.
Kennedy flips through the pages carefully. “Lovely.” She drops the book and slams her purse down on the dresser.“I assume whoever made that masterpiece is responsible for this, too.”
Chase reaches into the purse and pulls out a handful of cards from the Truth or Dare game—blank ones. “These are templates. Someone used these to make the messed-up cards.”
Mila glances at me but doesn’t say a word. Someone with a beating heart.