CHAPTER EIGHT

 

The rain came down in torrents, drenching Peyton as she stood outside in her nightgown. With the rumble of thunder, a bolt of lightning bathed the house, giving it an eerie whitish glow. Instinctively, she began to move her bare feet toward the house.

Inside she could hear the commotion coming from upstairs. It was obvious to Peyton that a verbal fight was underway. And just as clear that it was up to her to intervene.

She climbed the stairs, dreading every step of the way for fear of what awaited.

The closer she came to her parents' bedroom, the more petrified Peyton became, as though having been down this path before. She heard a strong male voice doing most of the talking with other voices in the background.

Pushing the door open, Peyton stepped in.

There was a man at the foot of the bed, his face contorted with fury. He was holding a shotgun that was pointed at another man who was standing and only half-clothed.

He pulled the trigger and the man went flying, landing on the floor with a thud.

Peyton put a hand to her mouth and gazed almost hypnotically toward the bed. A woman was lying there, partially blanketed. Her eyes were filled with consternation.

Looking back at the man with the shotgun, Peyton watched as he pointed it at the woman.

He's going to shoot her, too. I have to try and stop him.

As Peyton assessed what she could do to stop this tragedy from occurring amongst these strangers, she heard another sound and turned to see a girl run into the room past her. She was about Peyton's age and looked strangely familiar. She wore a long nightgown not unlike the one Peyton had on, though it somehow looked more dated to her.

Peyton watched as the girl ran up to the man with the shotgun. Grabbing the barrel, she screamed at him, "No, Daddy, don't!"

The man tried to shake the gun barrel from her as though she were nothing more than a gnat, his dark eyes slits.

"Get out of the way!" he ordered.

"No, I won't, Daddy!" The girl spoke defiantly. "Don't hurt Mama!"

He dismissed her words and tried harder to wrest the gun from her grasp. But the girl showed surprising strength and would not relinquish her grip on the barrel easily nor her determination to avert further bloodshed.

Peyton shook as the man, in his attempt to gain control of the shotgun, pulled the trigger. The girl backed away in anguish, clutching the gaping wound in her stomach. Her eyes were filled with hatred for the man she called Daddy.

He glared at Peyton before turning to the girl's mother. Lifting the shotgun, he aimed at the woman. As she let out a piercing scream, Peyton knew it was up to her to do something. But what?

She sucked in a deep breath and hurled herself at the man in desperation, but not before a shot went off...

* * *

Peyton awoke with a start. Her heart was pounding. She'd just had the same terrifying dream, but with an added twist. This time a girl had joined the people in the bedroom. It was the same girl Peyton had seen in the bay.

The girl who had pulled Peyton under the water and tried to drown her.

Am I losing my mind? Who are these people anyway? Why am I dreaming about them? Does it mean anything that the girl from the bay has somehow gotten into my dreams?

Peyton was at a loss. For all she knew, the whole thing was just some cruel twist of her subconscious brought on by moving to Shadow Bay, which she hadn't been crazy about.

Or perhaps her stepfather suddenly becoming a control freak had instigated the latest dream.

But what if there was something more to it? Maybe evil spirits really did haunt this creepy old house.

Peyton wanted so badly to march to her parents' room and tell them about the nightmare. But how could she? Not after claiming to see the girl in the bay that no one could corroborate. They would think she was crazy for sure and probably force her to see a psychiatrist.

Not that Peyton would have blamed them, all things considered.

Telling Bryant was also out of the question. The last thing she needed was to scare him into thinking she was mentally unbalanced. And, therefore, not girlfriend material.

Peyton decided she would defy her newly self-appointed slave-master-stepfather and sneak in a call to Erica. She could talk to her about anything, even if it sounded off the wall to everyone else.

She snuck downstairs and grabbed her phone from a cabinet in the study where Peyton had discovered Vance had put it.

Though she feared incurring Vance's wrath by blatantly disregarding his order not to use the phone to contact her friends from San Diego, Peyton could not keep this to herself. She started to text Erica, but aborted it, feeling the urge to have some FaceTime with her best friend to share her terrifying ordeal. They would just have to keep their voices down.

Erica popped on the screen and yawned. "Do you know what time it is?"

Peyton knew there was a two-hour time difference between Minnesota and California. Not that it had ever stopped them before from texting or talking at all hours of the night.

"Sorry, but this was the best time to talk," Peyton said apologetically. "Vance has gotten all weird and doesn't want me to use my phone to talk to you."

Erica raised her brow. "You're kidding, right?"

"I wish." Peyton lowered her voice. "I don't know what his problem is. Maybe it has something to do with this house. I just had a very scary dream..."

"Really? What happened?"

Peyton recounted the nightmare in detail. "That girl from the bay was in the dream," she said fretfully. "And she was shot by her father...who also shot another man and then her mother--"

"Hey, slow down." Erica frowned. "You're starting to worry me."

"You can't be any more worried than I am. Something just doesn't seem right about this."

"Yeah, I agree. You know, I read once that violent dreams can sometimes be an omen of things to come."

Peyton tensed. "Or maybe things that already happened. Everyone in the dream wore outdated clothing. Even the furniture in the house looked like something you'd see in an antique store."

"So you're saying this girl you thought was alive is really dead and haunting you from a past life?"

Peyton thought about it. "I'm not sure. But I think whatever is going on has to do with her...and this house--"

Am I really saying that the house is possessed by dead people? If so, what do they want with me?

"So what do you plan to do about it?" Erica sounded more than a little curious.

"I have no idea," Peyton admitted shakily. "I can't exactly tell my mother and stepdad. They'd probably lock me up for sure if I added this on top of seeing the girl in the bay."

"Maybe you should quit while you're ahead and come back to San Diego. Let someone else play ghost buster!"

"Yeah, if only." Peyton rolled her eyes, thinking that running away was not an option. Not yet anyway. "For all I know, the whole thing is in my head. I suppose I'll have to see it through, for better or worse."

"If you say so." Erica paused. "So, what's going on with the caretaker's cute son?"

Peyton smiled dreamily. "We're still cool. Bry hasn't exactly asked me out or anything, but I'm pretty sure he likes me."

"Well that's something. And since you obviously feel the same way about him, maybe he can help you get to the bottom of this--"

"Maybe." Peyton kept an open mind where Bryant was concerned. Would he keep an open mind where it concerned her? "Oh, by the way, I also met a girl here."

"A living, breathing one, I hope?"

"That's so not funny." Peyton stuck her tongue out. "She's alive just like you and me."

"Sorry, I had to ask." Erica giggled. "So you've already replaced your best friend?"

Peyton chuckled, knowing she was just teasing. "That'll never happen, Erica. Besides, Lily is only here for the summer."

"Good!" Erica said with satisfaction.

When Peyton heard a noise outside the room, she suspected it could be Vance so she cut the call short. "Gotta go," she whispered. "Talk to you later." She disconnected.

Peyton looked up as her stepdad walked into the study. He frowned. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

"Couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd come down and read a little." Peyton flipped a page from the book she'd taken off the shelf. "Or am I not allowed to do that either?"

He stared at her. "Thought I heard you talking?"

"Obviously not. Unless you think I'm chatting up a storm with a ghost?"

Vance looked toward the cabinet and Peyton was sure he was on to her taking the cell phone. He turned back to her, grinning sideways. "I don't believe in ghosts."

She wrinkled her nose. "Didn't think so."

"Don't stay up too long."

"I don't intend to," she responded, feeling she had dodged a bullet in going against his orders."

Peyton waited till Vance left, then grabbed the cell phone she'd stuck behind her in the chair and put it back in the cabinet. Feeling courageous, she planned to use the phone more often, figuring it was her right even if he felt otherwise.

By the time she went back to bed, Peyton was actually afraid to go to sleep. What if she had the dream again--twice in one night?

A chill suddenly came over Peyton as though she were being watched. How silly is that? There's no one here. Or so she tried to keep telling herself.

Soon her eyes began to carry a load and Peyton drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Caitlyn appeared as Peyton sank into a deep sleep. I'm sorry you're so troubled, Peyton. I wish I could make the dreams go away. But I can't--not yet. Our spirits are linked by time and this house. One cannot be at peace till the other is.

She gazed down at Peyton a bit longer before drifting towards the window. The moon was full, eerily lighting the night. Caitlyn admired the beauty so many people took for granted. If only she could touch and taste that which she could no longer feel. Perhaps someday. Some way. Soon.

Then reality set in for Caitlyn. Any such future was in peril as long as she was trapped by tragedy and forces far stronger than her.

The girl turned around and saw her mother standing there. She had a soft smile on her face and reached out to Caitlyn. Taking her mother's hand, she smiled back, remembering when their smiles came often before darkness encompassed their household for all time.

Both smiles vanished abruptly when Caitlyn's father appeared. He peered at them with eyes that were hollow and foreboding. When her father approached, they backed up, but had nowhere to go. He glanced back at the bed, eyeing Peyton sleeping.

Looking at Caitlyn and her mother again, an evil grin played on his lips and he reached out for them. Caitlyn tried to resist, but knew it was a lost cause. He was too strong for them to fight--at least by themselves.

The three spirits held hands as they vanished.