Part 22 (2/2)

”Wait! What are you doing? Hold on! Where are you going?”

I jumped to my feet. Others around me did the same, kicking penlights and sending them rolling across the floor, their beams creating creepy, distorted shadows on the walls and curtains.

”I'm outta here.”

As someone had aptly pointed out earlier, it was every man/woman for his/herself.

Thump, thump, thump.

The sound came from the top of the staircase, and I did what any sane, young woman would do under the circ.u.mstances. I bolted like the scared little Nancy-girl I was. I ran in the direction I figured the front door should be, only to have my way blocked by a tangle of torsos, arms, and legs.

”Could we have a little light here,” Langley's voice shook, the calm, British facade cracking under the pressure.

Thump.

Manny's big ol' light suddenly came on.

Thump. Thump.

I watched in terrified slow motion as a bright red ball bounced down the stairs.

Thump. Thump. Thump!

”Aaaaaa!”

I'm pretty sure I screamed b.l.o.o.d.y murder, but it was hard to know for sure because Langley Carlisle the Third and Drew Van Vleet had a scream fest compet.i.tion going on to see who could sound more like a female 'fraidy pants than I did.

I pivoted, changing direction. Now that I was better oriented, I saw my opening. I felt my way to the kitchen, just off the parlor, aiming for the back door and escape.

Like those balance-challenged scary movie heroines who can't seem to master the concept of putting one foot in front of the other without falling, my own feet wouldn't seem to cooperate. I felt my knees buckle, and I went down, crumpling to the floor like blonde bimbo serial killer bait.

”Oomph!” I reached a hand out to see what I'd fallen over and gasped. I shoved myself away when I realized it wasn't a ”what” but a ”who” that had tripped me up.

I swore. One itty-bitty curse word.

This was not good. Not good at all.

I could see the headline now: Villisca Murder House Claims Teen Idol Victim.

Talk about your reality checks.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

”Oh, my G.o.d! Jax?” Keelie knelt over the latest body I'd stumbled across and cradled her ex's head. ”Talk to me! Jax!”

”Aaaaaa!” The ”body” in question suddenly let loose with a bone-chilling scream and sat up, grabbing at Keelie. ”Gotcha!”

”You son of a b.i.t.c.h!” Keelie jumped to her feet and shoved Jax away. His head smacked the wooden floor.

I winced. Judging from Keelie's reaction, a b.u.mp on the head would be the least of Jax Whitver's concerns.

”You scared the s.h.i.+t out of me!” Keelie railed. ”What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing?”

Looking surprisingly alive and well-at least for the moment-Jax chuckled and sat up, resting a hand on one knee, his pearly white teeth standing out in the darkened house.

”Providing some very entertaining footage for the show, I'd imagine,” Langley observed.

”You're sick!” Tiara gave Jax's leg a nudge with the toe of her shoe. ”He's sick!” She repeated for the benefit of those of us who were too dense to pick it up the first time.

She'd get no argument from me. I'd be lucky if my hair wasn't white when I got a look at it come daylight.

”What's the big deal? I came in the back door, heard you getting your ghost on with the Ouija fest, and decided it would be fun to lie down and wait for someone to discover me.”

”You son of b.i.t.c.h!” Keelie said again. ”You scared us to death! That's what the big deal is!”

”Yeah. And what about that ball?” Tiara asked.

”Ball?” Jax shook his head. ”What ball? What are you talking about?”

”The ball you bounced down the stairs!” Tiara said.

Jax shook his head. ”Down the stairs? What the h.e.l.l are you talking about? I was never upstairs.”

”Sure,” Tiara said. ”Sure.”

”I'm serious. I never went past the kitchen. You would have seen me. And heard me.”

To prove his point, Jax got up and walked to the tiny staircase. He mounted several steps. The resulting squeaks and creaks were deafening.

I frowned. No way could he have gotten up that staircase without the rest of us hearing.

”Well, if you didn't-” Langley started.

”And we didn't,” Tiara said.

”Then...who?” Keelie asked.

”Or what?” Jax said.

A sound, not unlike someone might make when he or she steps on a hundred-year-old creaky board, made us lift our eyes to the ceiling. We stood, hushed and waiting.

”You know. I could do with a loo break,” Lang suddenly said.

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