The Haunted Heart: Winter by Josh Lanyon Read Free Book Online Page A

second he was
glaring again. “Okay, so it’s the mirror. Which is safely locked up
downstairs.”
    I took a breath, trying to pitch my voice to
a calm, reasonable decibel. “If it’s not these rooms, then she’s
moving from mirror to mirror. I’m telling you I saw —”
    “What did you see? You said you weren’t sure
it was her. You said maybe it was someone, some thing else.”
    “The point is, whatever it was, it was there . It was in the mirror. I didn’t dream it!”
    “Are you sure? When was the last time you
slept?”
    “There. Was. Something. There.
Something…awful.” My voice shook despite my effort at control. “I
didn’t dream it.” My heart was racing. I was close to panic as I
foresaw Kirk walking out of here and leaving me to whatever haunted
this place. I’d be sleeping in my car before I spent the night in
these rooms alone.
    Maybe he saw how close I was to losing it,
because Kirk sighed. “Flynn, listen to me. If you don’t sleep,
you’ll crack up completely.”
    “Got it.” I swallowed. “I need sleep. And
probably a shower. My cracks are starting to show. I still saw
something in the mirror. I didn’t dream it. I’m not imagining
things. I’m not hallucinating. I don’t know why this is happening,
but it is happening.” I added, and maybe it was too close to
pleading, but what did I have to lose really? “Kirk, you saw it.
You know you did. There’s something here. You know it.”
    He stared at me for a second or two with a
kind of furious impatience. But then, astonishingly, he said,
“Okay. There was something there. Locking her in the basement isn’t
enough. So tomorrow we get rid of the mirror. In the meantime…” I
could hear the reluctance in his voice, “you can crash at my pad
again.”
    I nodded, not trusting my voice.
     
    When we reached his rooms, Kirk pointed to
the sofa where the blankets I’d used the night before were still
stacked. “You know where everything is.”
    “Yeah. Thanks.”
    “Same drill. Don’t wake me before ten.”
    “Right.”
    He went down the hall, but then returned.
“Do you want something to help you sleep?”
    “What did you have in mind? A two-by-four
over the head?”
    “That’s Plan B.”
    “What’s Plan A?”
    “Trazodone.”
    I wearily lowered myself to the sofa.
“That’s okay. I don’t really do drugs.”
    “Shot of brandy?”
    I shook out one of the blankets and draped
it over myself picnic table style. “I think I’ll sleep tonight, but
thanks.”
    “Suit yourself.” Kirk disappeared down the
hall again.
    I spread out the second blanket and lay for
a few moments blinking sleepily up at the ceiling and wondering
what was going on upstairs in my rooms. After a bit, I reached up
and turned out the lamp.
     
    “Maybe you have sleeping sickness,” I
greeted Kirk the next morning.
    He snorted. “You think I have sleep
issues?” He headed straight for the coffee pot. “Did you sleep in
those clothes?”
    I said in my best Southern belle accent, “Ah
hadn’t tihme to pack mah valise.”
    Kirk spluttered, coughed up coffee, then
recovered enough to inquire, “Are you ever not bundled to
your chin in a bulky sweater?”
    “It’s cold in this dungeon. I think we need
a new furnace. Is the offer to use your truck to cart the mirror
out of here still good?”
    “Yep.”
    “Because the snow has stopped and I think we
should get going while the getting is good.”
    Kirk raised his coffee mug to his mouth,
slurped another thoughtful mouthful, and lowered it. “Okay. Suits
me. Maybe we’ll finally get some peace and quiet around here.” He
glanced at the clock over the breakfast nook. “I’ll meet you in the
basement in ten minutes.”
    “Synchronizing my watch now,” I called on my
way out the door.
    I had a final look around for papers
relating to the mirror, but I didn’t expect to find anything, and
in that I wasn’t disappointed. I brushed my teeth — avoiding
looking in the mirror — ran a