SHUDDERVILLE TWO by Mia Zabrisky Read Free Book Online

“Grab one of his legs. Olive? You get the other.”
    “Okay,” the little girl said.
    I held my head at a contemptuous angle. “What do you think you’re doing? Are you insane? Are you trying to kill me?”
    They couldn’t pull me up the attic stairs. They were too weak.
    “I’m going to kill you,” I told them triumphantly. “Every last one of you.”
    Delilah shook with fury. I could see the delicate veins throbbing under the skin of her temples. She ignored me and slicked her greasy hair behind her ears. There was a low, sick, gurgling sound coming from deep in my throat. Delilah turned to Olive and said, “Go get the blanket out of the cedar chest. We’ll wrap him up in that and drag him up the stairs.”
    “A blanket?” I laughed out loud.
    Olive crept past me, careful where she put her feet, trying not to touch me, and then hurried away.
    “I know what you are,” Delilah hissed, leaning over me.
    “Really? What am I?” I spat in her face.
    “I know exactly what you are.”
    “What am I?” I taunted her. “What? What?”
    Olive came running back with the blanket and said, “Should I do it, Mommy?”
    “Not yet, sweetheart,” Delilah said.
    “When, Mommy?”
    “First we have to get him up the stairs.”
    “What am I?” I screamed, and Andy hit me with the shovel, and I passed out.
    *
    When I opened my eyes, I was upstairs in the dusty attic. It was stiflingly hot. Andy was holding the shovel over my head, ready to strike again. I was propped against the wall next to the four-poster bed. The three of them surrounded me and were breathing hard from exertion. Isabelle was asleep on the bed. Or at least I think she was—I never could tell for sure. It was one of those enduring mysteries.
    I swallowed the dry lump in my throat. I could feel a searing pain on the back of my head and a trickle of blood running down my neck. I was fading fast. I closed my eyes and tried to find my strength. Somehow I would escape this mess, get out of these ropes and kill them. Somehow I would drive away from here and never come back. Well, you know? Things don’t always work out the way you plan. 13 was my goal, but now I’d settle for 14. I would embrace my new lucky number if I had to. 14 it would be. Fine. Whatever. First I’d kill them, and then I’d hop in the car and veer away from here and head north. To Canada or Alaska.
    “Look,” I told Delilah—no sense in talking to the kids. “We’re kindred spirits, you and me. Up on that hill? I loved you with all my heart and soul, and that means a lot coming from me. You’ve got to know, I’ve never loved anyone else in my whole life. And I loved you so much up on that hill that it created an entirely new anxiety in my heart—I thought you might leave me or dump me or cheat on me. And I got scared and flew into a jealous blind rage, but I didn’t mean to kill you. Honestly I didn’t. But here you are. Back from the dead. And I don’t blame you for being pissed. I’d be pissed off, too. I’d want revenge. I’ve got secrets, and you’ve got secrets. I’ll keep your secrets if you’ll keep mine. We can fix this. We can let bygones be bygones. We can part ways as friends, not enemies. Simple as that.”
    I could tell she wasn’t buying it. Not for a second.
    “Now?” Olive asked her mother.
    “No.”
    “Mommy, we have to…”
    “Not yet!” The widow bit her lower lip. She stood with one hand on Olive’s shoulder, pressing it down, and was looking at me with pained confusion.
    Good. Maybe I was getting to her after all? Maybe I hadn’t lost my touch after all? That gave me hope. I knew I could wiggle out of anything. When I wanted to—when I cared enough or felt like it—I could sweet-talk anybody. I had a smooth shiny demeanor, a glaze of good manners, and I could shape any argument. That was my public face. In private, I was something else.
    “Listen,” I said—and I spoke only to Delilah, ignoring the others—”listen to me.