Trick or Treat by Richie Tankersley Cusick Read Free Book Online Page B

then turned to Martha with a smile, “Seems like a nice guy. How is he as a brother?”
    “ Step brother,” Martha muttered. “ Step brother —”
    “Hey, sorry!” Blake held up his hands in mock defense, and Martha finally gave in to a laugh. “Wynn says your dad’s a writer.”
    “He writes articles mostly. Human interest stories.”
    “You mean two-headed alien changelings, things like that?” Blake tried to keep his expression serious.
    “Not quite. Right now he’s off in Hawaii on some new assignment.”
    Blake gave a low whistle. “I’m impressed. Too bad you couldn’t go along and take notes or something.”
    “It’s also his honeymoon,” Martha sighed. “Plus, he’s very strict about school.”
    “I can sympathize.” Blake buttered a roll, and chewed thoughtfully. “My old man’s a tyrant when it comes to grades. Wants me to have it better than he did — you know the old story.”
    “Well, it sounds like you’re doing plenty to make him happy,” Martha said.
    Blake looked mischievous. “Hey, I enjoy winning, that’s all. But you — how do you like your classes so far?”
    Martha hesitated, shrugged. “They’re okay, I guess. I think writing will be fun….” She glanced at him, hesitating. “Can I ask you something?”
    “Never on the first date.” His eyes met hers with a twinkle. “Sure. Ask away.”
    “Our house,” Martha said.
    “The old Bedford place.”
    “Yes. Wynn said … well, is it really … evil?”
    Blake leaned back in surprise. “You mean you didn’t know? Nobody told you?”
    Martha shook her head, frowning. “I’d really like to hear the story, if there is one.”
    For a minute his face seemed to struggle between sadness and uncertainty. He turned his glass slowly between his fingers. “I’m not sure you really do. Or that you really should.”
    “But I’m living there and it’s —” She broke oft, and his eyes raised slowly to her face.
    “It’s what?”
    Martha frowned, one hand trailing across her forehead. “I … I can’t explain it exactly. I was going to ask Wynn about it but —”
    “No, don’t.” Blake looked at her, his expression serious, and he pushed himself back from the table. “Don’t ask Wynn. Let’s go someplace where we can talk.”
    Martha felt uneasy as she followed him across campus. A light drizzle had discouraged much outside activity — hardly anyone seemed to be around as they walked past the buildings towards the athletic field behind school. Blake waved distractedly as several runners jogged past them on the track, then he steered Martha to the bleachers.
    “Mind a little fresh air?” Blake smiled, but it seemed strained. He bowed slightly and helped her up. “Have a seat. It’s been trying to rain for weeks now — when it finally comes, it probably won’t stop till Christmas.” He eased down beside her and leaned back, propping his elbows on the seat behind. His brown eyes searched her face. “Do you believe in ghosts, Martha?”
    She wasn’t quite prepared for that. As he continued to stare at her, her own eyes widened in alarm.
    “I … what are you talking about?”
    “I’m talking about your house. The Bedford house. That’s what people around here believe, you know — that the tormented spirits there can’t be put to rest.”
    “ Do they really come back to the scenes of their tragedies … bound there forever, even in death …?” Dad’s words floated back to her, and Martha shook her head slowly, trying to clear it.
    “Are you trying to tell me this whole town is superstitious about that stupid old house?”
    A faint smile passed over his face. “That stupid old house has been around as long as the town. Built by the original founders. Most of the family’s died out through the years, though. The last heirs put it up for sale last year.”
    “I can see why,” Martha said wryly.
    “The family was never big on updating anything — as you’ve probably found out by now.” Blake