Page 17 of Shadows of Nightshade
Now I had something else to worry about. Wonderful.
I’d hopedthat the ghost had given up, as it never appeared when my visitors were on the front patio. But as the night grew later, I began to sense its presence—hovering somewhere I couldn’t pinpoint.
But I tried my best to ignore it as I reflected on the events of the afternoon.
And my conclusion? I might have overreacted a tiny bit. Probably.
But it didn’t matter. Even if they had good intentions, it would be too embarrassing to work with them. Besides, they obviously took issue with my relationship with Finn, which in itself was offensive.
There was nothing else I could do. I had to end this haunting on my own. The internet was never helpful in situationslike this, though. So I had no choice but to plan for an extended library session tomorrow.
With that in mind, I finally was able to fall asleep.
Something brushed my awareness, and I jerked awake, disoriented. I didn’t know what time it was or how long it’d been, but the house was eerily quiet.
The chilling darkness, broken only by shimmering moonlight, sent a shiver down my spine.
I hated the dark in my best moments, and especially on days like these. I wanted to shut my eyes, to go back to my dreams.
But my skin was prickling.
Everything seemed normal, so why was—
Tap. Tap.
I could barely hear the sharp, forceful noise as it echoed throughout the otherwise silent room—the sound a knife would make when tapped against a glass. While it wasn’t the most frightening thing the residential ghost had subjected me to, something was different this time.
The head of my twin-sized bed rested under the solitary window, and at the foot of it, an old vanity was set low on the floor. The surface of the dresser was covered in dark, chipping stains. But the most distinguishable characteristic of the piece was the large, oval mirror affixed to the wall.
Professor Hamway collected antiques, including small knickknacks. In this room, she displayed her tiny perfume bottles, and they were meticulously lined on a glass tray placed upon the chipping surface.
Other than these items, a hanging houseplant near the door, a bedside table, and my duffle bag, there were no other large pieces in the room. There was nowhere for anything to hide, and—thanks to the moonlight—it was clear that I was alone.
The air grew colder as I pressed back against the headboard, and another tap sounded throughout the area.
I’d never heard anything like it before. But then again, it’d never been so quiet.
My breathing caught, and my fear escalated with every passing second. Was I stupid for being afraid? I’d decided that I could handle this on my own. I wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything while acting like this.
I pulled the quilted sheet more tightly around myself.
Tap.
This time, I was watching very closely, so I didn’t miss the movement from the top of the vanity.
One of the bottles had been raised into the air and then set back into its previous position atop the glass tray. This time, without pause, another bottle followed—another tap.
I had no idea what to do. I wanted to run away, but this was the first time I had not felt a sense of hostility from the presence. That, however, didn’t make the situation any less hair-raising.
As the scene repeated itself again—this time with a larger bottle—something new caught my attention. There was a shape, a shadowed figure hovering in the corner, that began to appear in the mirror.
The bottles weren’t touched again. But as seconds passed, the form grew in both size and visibility. It continued until a blurry, but obvious, reflection of a human figure was present.
Nope.
It didn’t seem to be looking at me, so I slid to the side of the bed. I tried not to draw attention to myself as I touched my toes to the wood floor. I was able to find my slippers in the dark and pushed my feet into them before—just as silently—I began to inch my way toward freedom.
Sleeping outside was an excellent idea! I just needed to escape without being noticed.
