Page 40 of The Mist of Stars
Nothing appears to be humming, though, so I step forward again?—
Hum …
Hum …
Hum …
It feels like the air is vibrating, almost like whenever Alex and I are near each other, only with a slightly more buzzing variant. Maybe I should let it go. It could be anything really. But like with the box of stardust, the humming is beckoning me to find it.
I drop the bag and move through the house, winding around corners and closed doors until I arrive at the entrance to the basement. I went down there one time with Aislin when we were younger. We had to go through some old boxes to find her birth certificate. The place was eerie, and I remember this object in the corner that’s covered by a sheet. I wanted to look underneath it but was too afraid I’d get into trouble with Aislin’s dad. Even back then, he was a scary man. He’s worse now. That should be enough to get me to turn around and head back, but I open the door and start down the stairs. It’s like I can’t stop myself from going toward whatever it is, its humming noise like a song lulling me toward it.
The light in the basement is on, but the air is quiet. When I reach the bottom, I turn toward where the object with the sheet was. It’s still there, but the sheet is off of it, and beneath it isa massive orb framed with metal bars. It illuminates iridescent light that casts rainbows all over the dusty room.
“Pretty,” I whisper in a hypnotic trance that I can’t seem to break.
A part of me is well aware that this isn’t a good scenario, that this contraption in front of me doesn’t belong in the basement of a keeper’s house. And yet, I keep moving toward it with my hand outstretched?—
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Stephan’s voice slices through the haze in my brain like a scythe taking out a soul.
I jerk back and whirl around, my hair whipping around me. He’s standing at the bottom of the stairway, wearing a dark gray shirt and black slacks. His hair is slicked back, and he has a fresh wound on his cheek, one that’s barely scabbed over. I hate that he looks like Aislin and Alex. It creeps me out because he creeps me out.
“Sorry.” I rack my brain for a reason as to why I’d be down in the basement. “Aislin asked me to come find a box for her in here, and I saw this, and …” I swallow hard as his gaze continues to burn into me. “I’m sorry.” I move to rush by him, but he sidesteps me, blocking my way.
“You’re a terrible liar, Gemma Lucas.” He crosses his arms. “Just like your mother. So, tell me: why are you really down here?”
“I …” Dang it, I can’t think of a better lie, so … “I heard this humming sound, and while I know I shouldn’t, I followed it, and it was that thing.” I’m not about to tell him how I can feel the electric energy flowing off it.
“Really?” His expression is a mask of indifference, but his eyes dissect me in a way that makes goosebumps sprout across my flesh.
With my lips smooshed together, I nod, resisting the urge to say anything further, not wanting to incriminate myself even more.
My heart hammers against my chest with so much force that I worry my bones might break. But, conclusively, Stephan steps aside.
“Okay.” He gestures at me to go ahead.
I feel this pinprick of an urge to punch him in the face, but I don’t. I may be tough, but Stephan is older and much more experienced. Plus, there are stories about him and the wars he fought throughout the last few decades.
I rush up the stairs, not looking back. I powerwalk down the hallway, heading straight to Aislin’s room. When I rush inside, she’s zipping up her suitcase.
“Ready to go?” she asks, dragging the suitcase off her bed by the handle. It hits the floor with athud. Then she faces me with a smile that quickly fizzles into a perplexed frown. “Dude”—she stares at my hands—“I thought you were going to pack up my shampoos and soaps?”
“I …” I glance down at my hands. At some point, I must’ve dropped the small bag she gave me. “There was an incident.”
“What sort of incident?” she inquires, her concern evident.
“Can I tell you later?” I give her a pressing look. “Once we’re outside.”Away from your father, this house, and the security cameras around it.
“Sure.” She’s so beyond puzzled, but like a good friend, she lets it drop for now.
Since I have no clue where I dropped the bag, and I’m not about to return to the basement to see if it’s down there, I ask her to grab another. Then we both go pack up her soaps and shampoos before hightailing it out of the house. She doesn’t tell her father she’s leaving, sending him a text instead.
“Hopefully, he won’t make a big deal about it,” she tells me as she hoists the suitcase into the back of her Jeep.
The air is cold, the night sky bleak with clouds that are trying to stifle the shimmer of stars, and whenever I take a breath, the scent of rain wafts through my body so potently it’s like I’m standing in a rainstorm. It makes memories of the rain and the death walker prominent in my mind.
“You think he will?” I ask as I start toward the other side of the Jeep.
She doesn’t answer until we’re both in the car with the doors shut and the engine running.