Page 56 of Phobia

“No.” Larkin shook his head vehemently. “He was chained in the basement. It couldn’t have been him.”

“You chained him in the basement?! Jesus Christ!” I pushed away from him, only managing a few wobbly steps as I kicked away the bedding tangled around my ankles.

Larkin was right behind me, his hand on my arm, pulling me back. “He threatened you, Jamie! There was no way I was going to let him get within twenty feet of you.”

“So you chained him in the fucking basement?!” I whirled on him, pushing his hand off my bicep. “What was the plan? Why didn’t you call the police?”

“I was going to! I wanted to find enough evidence to put him away first. I couldn’t let him get away a second time.”

“And the police were totally cool with the fact you were holding him prisoner when he mysteriously died?”

His jaw shifted and mine dropped.

I covered my mouth with my hands, gaping at him. When I finally lowered them in preparation to speak, he looked away.

“Larkin, what did you do?” I whispered. It was my turn to do the lunging. I grabbed his biceps and squeezed, trying to get him to look at me. “Tell me you called the police. Tell me you—”

“Cut him up into little pieces and threw the remains along the mountain. I burned and bleached away the rest of the evidence. He’sgone, Jamie. He’s fucking gone. And the world is better off for it.” He exhaled a slow breath and took my hands in his, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I understand if you can’t look at me the same way after hearing that. Just know that I did it to keep you safe. And you are. Finally. But that also means there’s no way he was here tonight. You’re free, Jame. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Unable to speak, I simply nodded.

There’s no way I could tell himmysecret now. Larkin’s ghost-free life would never mesh with my… not so ghost-free life, no matter how much I might have wanted it to. He knew all my fears, all my secrets—except one.Thisone.

In Larkin’s world, humans were worse than any ghost could ever be. It was one thing to be the son of a killer, to have endured the childhood Larkin had. Even disposing of the body made sense, given the circumstances of who had died and where. I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to involve the police.

But to tell someone who had witnessed evil firsthand that you see ghosts? Yeah, no. Larkin had enough guilt from that night because of what his father did to me. There was no way I could burden him with the whole ghost bit on top of everything else. He’d already suffered in silence for so long, trying to protect my feelings and keep me from losing my mind. It was my turn to protect him from this.

Chapter 9

As a kid, the countdown to Halloween felt like it took forever until one glorious October morning, it arrived. Sometimes with sun, sometimes pouring down rain. A few times it even snowed. No matter what the weather was like, nothing could stifle the excitement that buoyed me and all the other kids inSunderland. It wasHalloween. It wasourholiday, one where we could be whatever we wanted and roam the neighborhood, making demands out of adults we’d otherwise never talk back to.

There was a magic to that day that only grew stronger with each carved jack-o-lantern set out on doorsteps and each hazy ghost hung from tree branches. Glittering orange and purple lights seemed to reflect a shimmer in the air, adding to the moonlit distortions and glowing pumpkins. It didn’t matter what town in America you were in, the transcendental spirit of Halloween was everywhere. You couldn’t escape it.

Sadly, even Tennebrose wasn’t immune.

Like all the years before, the surrounding Winslow area was transformed from an austere, Puritan university town to one of ancient mysteries and whimsical scares. And for every wart-faced witch and grinning skeleton I passed on my way to class, my anxiety ratcheted up to another level until I was jumping and gasping every two feet like a moron.

I tried reminding myself what Larkin told me—that his father, my would-be murderer, was dead, but it didn’t do me any good. I still saw his ugly face everywhere I went. On campus, in the crowd. In store windows, next to paper ghosts and screeching black cats. In Halloween displays that took over people’s yards like a series of tableaux vivants straight out of my nightmares.

Every time I saw it, I said the words Dr. Corbin gave me.Mortem obire.Over and over. It didn’t matter, though.Hewas always there, watching me.

The final straw came one afternoon when I screamed the Latin words in front of witnesses like a lunatic. I watched the killer’s ghostly face fade, slowly, onhisterms, while the people milling about on the beautiful fall day merely saw me shouting at a happy-faced scarecrow listing in someone’s front yard next to a bale of straw.

I bolted back to the dorms and hurled myself at my desk, tearing through the drawers to try and find the one scrap of paper that could help me.

Larkin found me up to my elbows in old papers and stacks of textbooks a short time later. “You ok?”

“Have you seen Dr. Corbin’s business card?”

“Uh, no. Why? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”

“No!” I shot him a glare and clawed through another desk drawer. “I need his number, not the hospital.”

“Why?”

“Because I need it!” I snapped.

“Hey.” Larkin’s hands landed on my shoulders, holding me in place and giving me a gentle squeeze. “What’s going on?”