Chapter 30 Ghosts in the Attic
GHOSTS IN THE ATTIC
LUCAS
“Dr. Vaughn?”
The soft voice reached out to him in the darkness, the dulcet tone persuading him to open his eyes and wake up.
“Dr. Vaughn.” This voice was more urgent, and the register was lower.
“Please wake up, Dr. Vaughn!” The sweet voice again. Pleading with him.
His body was jostled abruptly by something large and blunt. It didn’t have a distinct shape but was more of a blob with solid mass. Both of the voices were working together now to try and wake him. Why wouldn’t they just let him sleep?
The softer voice he now understood was feminine, almost childlike, and there were tears behind it. Whoever she was, she sounded afraid. He needed to help her. It didn’t sound like Elyxandre, but he couldn’t risk it in case it was her. She wasn’t safe. She needed protection. He needed to help her.
With a groan, he opened his eyes, or at least he tried to. When he did, everything around him was pitch black. Where was he?
“He’s awake,” the male voice said.
Sobs of relief came from the female.
He groaned. “Who’s there?”
“You need to wake up, sir. We don’t have much time.”
“I can’t see anything.”
“We’re in the dark. The only light is from under the door right now. Give it a minute. Your eyes will adjust a little bit.”
He shook his head to try and clear it. Immediately, he regretted that choice. His head swam, and the lack of visuals to anchor him made the darkness all that much more disorienting. Instead, he latched onto the voices.
“Kennedy? Is that you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you okay?”
“Scared. Thirsty and hungry, but yes, I’m okay.”
He tried to place the male voice. “Ryker? Is that you? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s me. My knee is a hot mess, but I’ll live.”
Now that he was more awake, he could hear the pain in the boy’s voice. This didn’t make any sense. Ryker was here? With Kennedy? He’d been so sure that Ryker was their bad guy.
The darkness around them was starting to coalesce into dark-gray blobs.
Plastic totes, crates, and assorted boxes were stacked around them in organized chaos.
A bookshelf materialized across from him, filled with an array of dishes and glassware.
Several pieces of furniture, shrouded in sheets, were backed against another wall.
“We’re in the theatre props room,” he realized. “How long have we been here?”
Ryker replied, “Hard to tell. He took my phone, not that it would do me much good with my hands tied. I haven’t been able to see a clock. This room is so insulated, we can’t hear any bells, but I don’t think I’ve been here very long though. You and Kennedy were both here when I was brought in.”
“I was taken Saturday night on my way home from work,” Kennedy told him.
His brain was still foggy, but a thought was trying its damndest to poke through the murky clouds preventing him from thinking at full capacity. Something he should have connected before. He must have been hit over the head.
Ryker said, “And he brought me here between seventh and eighth period. Told me he’d found Kennedy and needed help getting her out of here. My dumb ass should have known better. He would never ask for my help. Not where Kennedy was concerned.”
Lucas felt his stomach sink. “Who would never ask for your help?”
It was coming back. The appointment with Dr. Sealy.
The voice calling to him as he started to cross the parking lot.
Him turning, with a smile, to greet the voice.
Stepping back toward the building to give him a hand because he was having a problem.
Walking two steps past him, and then an explosion of pain.
“Judah,” Kennedy said with a sniffle. “It was Judah.”