Lantern Page 6

  Tori woke up with tears streaming down her face, her head pounding. She gulped for air so violently that it started an episode of hiccups. Sweaty skin stuck to the shorts and T-shirt she’d worn to bed.

  Sunlight poured into the room through a seam between drapes covered with feathered scrolls. The drapes matched the pattern on her comforter, half of which was bunched up and twisted with her sheets. One of her pillows had fallen on the floor.

  With a single leap, Tori stumbled over herself to the corner where she’d hidden the lantern. She lifted the quilted covering and hiccupped again. It was still there, metal and glass—dark, cold, and empty. She pulled the lantern onto her lap and sat curled around the globe until her breathing steadied. “A dream,” she said. “It was just a dream. But how much of it?”

  Once she calmed down, Tori restarted her day with a shower and breakfast with her family. She went through the motions as politely as she could, relaxing slightly when she found Kimmy smiling up at her from his booster seat while nibbling a pancake. His whole, solid presence was just what she needed to get excited about trick-or-treating—for his sake. She didn’t want to ruin his holiday.

  After breakfast, Tori followed her grandmother out of the kitchen and handed her the key to the side door.

  Her grandmother frowned as she stared at the cleft piece of metal. “You’re giving up?”

  “It’s a long story,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder. “Can I keep the stethoscope until I have to go home?”

  “Of course, dear.”

  “Thanks, Grandma.”

  For the first morning in what seemed like forever, Tori felt neither worry nor guilt about sneaking out of the house to visit the site where the lantern had been. She hoped it would remain unnoticed in her room until she figured something out. But time was running out. After Halloween, she and her family would return home, nearly a day’s drive away from the plantation. Something needed to happen before she left her grandmother’s home. She thought of different ways to stash the lantern in her luggage, hoping maybe her grandmother would give her an extra bag that wouldn’t prompt her parents to ask questions.

  Daylight hours passed quickly, partially due to Tori’s nervousness about hiding the lantern in her room. She uncovered it about a thousand times to check for Jared. But there wasn’t the tiniest flicker of light. On the end table next to her bed, the vase stayed filled with water.

  “I don’t know where you’ve gone,” she said, gently smoothing the quilt over the lantern. “I have to get ready to take Kimmy trick-or-treating. I hope to see you when we get back.”

  Tori’s costume hung from a hook on the back of the bedroom door. A flouncing of pastels and lollipops raised her spirits. The corners of her lips almost lifted into a smile as she pulled on her red and white tights.

  Chapter 13

  “You look beautiful, baby.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Tori’s lips warmed into a smile as she floated down the stairs.

  Gossamer webs of cotton stretched across the railings, cradling spiders with glittering eyes. Candelabras lined both sides of the foyer.

  “Did Grandma do all this?”

  Tori’s mother shook her head. “At one time your grandmother had hired help who decorated the house for every holiday. Now she’s down to a groundskeeper and a weekly cleaning lady who can only manage one section of the house at a time. That leaves a lot for her to manage herself.” She smiled. “Your father found decorations in the attic. We thought you and Kimmy would enjoy something festive.”

  “It’s amazing. You and Dad did a great job. Where’s Kimmy?”

  Just as Tori mentioned her brother’s name, her father walked in with a giant candy bucket with a smiley ghost painted on its front. Arms and legs stuck out from the soft vinyl cylinder. “Happy Halloween,” Kimmy said. He grinned widely. “Treat!”

  “You have your priorities straight, little bud.” Tori laughed, ruffling his hair. “Are you ready?”

  Kimmy’s cheesy smile said more than words could.

  “Okay, let’s go.” Tori took him by the hand as her mother opened the door for them.

  “Your grandmother’s resting now, but she looks forward to seeing you in your costumes when you get back.” Tori’s mother snapped a photo.

  “Thanks, Mom. Have fun at dinner.”

  “We will. See you later tonight, hon.”

  House after house, Kimmy was the sweetest of treat angels. In less than an hour, his and Tori’s treat bags overflowed with hard candies, taffies, chocolates, and enough candy corn to plant a field. At first, Kimmy was enchanted with the idea that his candy bucket costume could also be functional, giggling every time Tori or one of their grandmother’s neighbors dropped a treat in the outer compartments of the costume. But as the evening wore on, his smiles turned into pouts, followed by frequent eye rubs.

  “Getting tired, little bud?” Tori shoved a chocolate drop in her mouth, letting it melt before unwrapping another.

  Kimmy whimpered.

  “I think we’ve got enough candy to last us until Christmas, at least,” Tori said, deciding to cut the night short. “You did great.”

  Yawning, Kimmy raised his arms.

  Finding her brother surprisingly awkward to hold while dressed in his costume, Tori switched arms twice before finally setting him back down on the ground and taking his hand. “Almost home,” she said.

  Tori’s grandmother answered the door when they arrived, her arm balancing a tray of caramel-covered apples. “Oh, look at you darlings. Just lovely!”

  “Thanks,” Tori answered with a grin. “Kimmy was awesome tonight, but he’s pooped.” She removed his shoes and unsnapped the straps at his shoulders. After the bucket slid to the floor, Tori scooped up her brother to help him wriggle out of the costume.

  “My, what a lot of candy,” said her grandmother, eyeing the stash.

  Kimmy, happy again, squeezed wrapped nougats between his hands.

  Tori’s grandmother handed her the tray of apples. “Do you mind passing these out to trick-or-treaters as they come along? I don’t get too many, but I like to have something to offer just in case. I’ll take care of getting Kimmy up to bed.”

  Relieved, Tori nodded. “Sure, no problem.” She relaxed on a chair her grandmother had left outside on the porch just for that purpose.

  A faint silhouette of the moon had already appeared even though the sun hadn’t yet set. The sleeves of her costume barely warded off the night’s chill, making her wish she’d brought a sweater with her. She never did like the idea of a coat covering up one of her costumes, but she was more than done for the night.

  Tori’s grandmother returned more quickly than she’d expected; the door closed behind her with a grumpy groan. As if she’d read Tori’s mind, she unfolded one of her lumpy shawls. “Your parents are still at dinner. I don’t expect them to return for another hour,” she said, glancing at her watch.

  Tori thought she saw more meaning behind her grandmother’s eyes, but she wasn’t sure what it could be. When she didn’t say anything, her grandmother cleared her throat.

  “I’m happy to give you the key back for another night if you’d like to use this time to go visit the lantern.”

  “Oh,” said Tori, wide-eyed. “I didn’t get the chance to tell you. The lantern’s not there anymore.” She suddenly felt guilty for having hidden the lantern in her room. It wasn’t hers to take or to move from its original location, even if it was technically still on her grandmother’s property.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I gave you the key back because I brought the lantern to my room last night. It didn’t light when I went to see it. It’s—” She gulped. “I’ve had it hidden in my room all day.”

  “I see. What do you plan to do with it?”

  Tori’s forehead creased. “I’m not sure. I doubt my parents would let me take it home. But, it’s yours, not mine—I’ll go bring it down,” Tori said, standing from the chair. “I can return it.” />
  “I don’t see any reason to go out there tonight,” said her grandmother as she gazed past the porch, toward the gardens. “However, it might look nice here on the porch.” She pointed to a row of hooks screwed into the wooden beams above them. “I use those to hang my flower baskets in the summertime. Let’s try putting the lantern there. At the very least, it will make a lovely Halloween prop. Go on, now. I’ll stay here with the apples until you get back.”

  Tori raced up to her room, somehow managing to drape the shawl around her shoulders in the process. She opened her bedroom door and sucked in a breath when she realized she could see inside the room even though the lights weren’t turned on. The corner where she’d tucked the lantern emitted a strange glow.

  “Jared?” Her voice cracked as she leaped to the corner and pulled back the quilt, now warm from the light of the lantern. There was no condensation. Makes sense, she thought. It’s not cold in here like it was when I saw the lantern outside. She peered inside, but Jared wasn’t there. A pale flame took his place.

  Tori’s eyes stung with tears. Lifting the lantern by its handle, she whispered, “At least it’ll make a nice porch light.” Before stepping out of the room, she grabbed her grandmother’s nursing bag from the edge of her bed. “I might as well return this too,” she grumped, holding back sobs as she walked out of the room. No point in keeping a stethoscope if there’s no one to talk to.

  The decorations leading down the stairs no longer cheered her. Before she opened the front door to join her grandmother, Tori stopped. Her free hand hovered above the doorknob. “Jared, if you can hear me, please come back. It’s Halloween night, and I miss you.”

  The flickering inside the lamp danced in synch with flames from the candelabras. Silence filled the cavernous space. Even the decorative spiders seemed to be listening for a response. But none came.

  Tori drew in a breath. “I hope that wherever you are, you’re happy—whether that’s in Havenbrim, back in Machin’s workshop, or wherever it is the light goes when his lanterns burn out. I’ll miss you, Jared. Even if no one ever believes me about meeting you, I will always remember.” She pressed her lips to the globe in a brief kiss before turning the doorknob and stepping outside.

  Chapter 14

  “How lovely!” Tori’s grandmother set the tray of apples on a footstool and stood up; her blue eyes peered over her eyeglasses in admiration. “It’s more beautiful than I remember, especially now that it’s lit.”

  Tori forced a smile as she reached up to hang the lantern on one of the hooks. “Just in time for Halloween. Now the house will be easier to find.”

  “But where’s your friend—the one inside the lantern?”

  Tori frowned. “He’s not there, and I doubt he’ll be coming back.”

  Her grandmother wrapped an arm around her. “My dear, I’m sorry. You spent a great deal of time studying this mystery.” Her lips pursed for a moment; her eyes stared away as if she were deep in thought. “Do you still have the stethoscope?”

  “Yes. I brought your nursing bag down to give it back before we leave.” Tori pulled the instrument from the bag. “Thanks so much for letting me borrow it.” Her lower lip trembled as she handed the stethoscope to her grandmother. It’s really over now.

  “Keep it for a while longer.” Her grandmother pointed to the lantern. “Just because you don’t see him, doesn’t necessarily mean that you won’t be able to hear him.”

  Tori blinked, wondering who or what was crazier—her grandmother for suggesting such a thing or the leap of her heart at her grandmother’s suggestion. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the ear tips and stretched the chest piece out to the lantern’s globe.

  Her grandmother pressed her fingers to her lips as she watched.

  Breathing slowly, Tori calmed herself to dampen out the pulsing sound of her heart. She sighed. “I can’t hear—”

  “The moon.” Almost imperceptible, the voice was a whisper, the language of wind tinted with a deep, male tone.

  “J-Jared?”

  “Use the light of the moon.”

  Tori looked up at the sky; her mouth dropped open. The silhouette of moon she’d seen after trick-or-treating was now round and full. Its light intensified as time ticked by. “Grandma, do you see that? Tell me I’m not dreaming.” She looked back to see her grandmother squinting at the heavens with one hand shading her eyes.

  “If you’re dreaming then so am I, dear. The moon’s on fire tonight.”

  “Tonight’s a special night—Halloween was Machin’s favorite holiday.”

  Tori’s eyes darted back to the lantern. She gasped.

  “What is it, dear?”

  “You were right, Grandma. I do hear something—a voice inside the lantern. It’s Jared, but I don’t see him.”

  “Tilt the lantern toward the moon to catch the bend in the light.”

  Tori reached with her free hand, then paused. “I can’t.” What if it’s a trick? What if I end up inside the globe the way Jared did when he tended the lantern?

  “Tori, please. I need your help. Tonight’s my chance to be set free.”

  Torn between losing Jared and fearing the unknown, Tori swallowed back a lump in her throat. Shivers trailed along her shoulders to the tips of her fingers as the air surrounding the lantern warmed. A calming heat touched her face and permeated the hand that held the stethoscope’s chest piece.

  The flame inside the lantern flickered, and then began to change shape, lengthening and broadening into a human form. The pointed tip of the flame rounded into a head. Tori’s breathing slowed as the planes of Jared’s face became visible.

  He reached out; his tiny palm stretched along the glass. His eyes begged her trust. Tori covered his palm with a fingertip, and then pressed the globe forward, up toward the light of the moon.

  A beam of light extended from the moon to the lantern and from the lantern back toward the moon.

  “Thank you.”

  Jared’s form shifted; the shape of his body returned to flame. Before snuffing out completely.

  Breath escaped Tori’s lips in a muffled hiss.

  A wisp of smoke hovered inside the globe before a new flame appeared—a soft spark of light that brightened into a blaze of color. Fiery golds and magentas swirled together and crackled with blue sparks.

  The heat around the globe intensified. Tori continued to hold the globe up, tilted it toward the sky, until the beam that connected the globe to the moon paled and disappeared, trailing sparks of light that popped and sizzled out of sight like the fading lines of fireworks.

  “Let go.”

  Stunned, Tori dropped her hands from the lantern and looked around. “Jared?” His voice hadn’t reached her ears through the stethoscope.

  She caught a glimpse of her grandmother, who stood staring. The soft skin of the woman’s cheeks had gone slack with wonder. Tori had no doubt she’d seen everything, right along with her. “Is that it? Are you gone?” She fought back a sob. “Did you burn out?”

  The lantern hung from the overhead hook, once again dark and cold. Tears glazed Tori’s eyes. She pulled the stethoscope’s ear tips from her ears, sniffling freely as she handed the instrument to her grandmother.

  “Please don’t cry. I’m here.”

  Nearly jumping out of her skin, Tori looked down. A figure sat cross-legged on the porch.

  “Young man, where did you come from?” The voice of Tori’s grandmother rang clear and tart. “How long have you been there in the shadows spying on us?” She blinked. “Or, are you—”

  A smile stretched across a male face, bathed in moonlight, as a hand raked through dark curls.

  “It’s him,” said Tori, leaping to his side. “In the lantern he can stand, but here in the real world, he can’t because...” She paused, embarrassed. “Can you stand if I help you?”

  Jared answered with a lopsided grin. “You’ve already helped me far more than you could ever know. As for standing—quite honestly, I haven’t been her
e long enough to find out.”

  He reached out and grasped a railing. Tori guided his opposite elbow as he raised himself up on one leg. A second foot struck the planks of the porch with a clanking sound.

  Jared’s brow furrowed. “What is this?” He lifted a pant leg. Pale moonlight reflected off a flash of metal.

  Tori’s grandmother fussed about, locating the porch light. “There we are. Let’s take a look.”

  Raising the pant leg higher, Jared unveiled a brassy, silvery contraption that had been shaped and molded to look like a real leg. He felt across a line of screws that circled his thigh. “It feels more like part of me than an attachment—unlike other prosthetics.”

  Tori’s eyes grew wide. “Can you move it?”

  Jared leaned back and balanced himself against the railing. “It’s heavy,” he said. With both hands he gripped the prosthetic behind the knee, smiling when the joint bent as he raised the upper half of his leg toward his chest.

  Something clinked against the back of the calf.

  “What’s this?” Tori asked, pointing out a brown square of paper, rough like cardboard and attached to the leg with a piece of twine.

  Jared shrugged. “It looks like a price tag. Can you read it?”

  Awkwardly, Tori bent to grasp the paper. “There’s no price, but there is a message.”

  “How strange. What does it say?”

  Tori perused the message silently, frowning with confusion before she read it aloud. “Being whole is more than recovering a lost appendage. The switch is in front, below the knee. I wish you the best, Machin.”

  Chapter 15

  Jared’s dark eyes crinkled at the edges as he laughed. His fingers slid across the prosthetic, stopping when he found a piece of metal, barely visible, that stuck out exactly where Machin said it would be. Jared tapped the switch toward him.

  An electronic purr and the grinding of wheels resounded from inside the prosthetic. Jared’s eyes widened. His hands fell to his sides. Slowly, gently, as if a thought traveled from his brain, along his nerves, and attached to the muscles of a real leg, the prosthetic straightened and lowered to the ground.