The Ford idled in the driveway of the Best farmhouse.
"You're sure he's not here?" Marigold asked.
Sneaking into a strange uncle's house seemed like a thrilling thing to do at the time. Now, she wasn't so sure.
There were no more ghosts in Hal's yard to tell on them--besides the chickens (but as of yet, Wyatt was sure they were trustworthy).
The moon was faint and provided very little illumination to anything besides the blue light shining through Hal's bedroom window.
"If we want to find out more about Gwydyr," Wyatt said, "we have to start here. Silas doesn't remember anything. The forest isn't helping us. And I know what I saw up there--Hal already knows about it."
"Well, where is he, then?' Marigold asked. If Birdie were here, she'd already be halfway up the steps and unlocking the door. Marigold needed a plan. And apparently, she couldn't count on Wyatt for one of those.
"How should I know?" Wyatt shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "We don't speak to each other. But he left this afternoon and if he isn't back by now, he won't be back until late. Or maybe even until morning."
Marigold chewed on her lip.
The farmhouse was dilapidated, to be sure, but in the darkness, it was downright eerie.
The porch sagged. A window was broken. And there was a smell--like rotten wood, or perhaps rotten vegetables, or maybe rotten flesh.
Marigold turned off the engine and got out of the truck.
She and Wyatt crept up the porch steps and carefully pushed open the front door, not making a sound even though there was no real reason to be quiet.
"We shouldn't be here," Marigold whispered, rubbing her arms against the sudden dampness inside. "This feels wrong."
"That's because it is," Wyatt replied simply.
They went up the stairs, their footsteps creaking through the house, rustling the musty silence.
Before they even got up to the hallway, Marigold could smell the thioacetone that Wyatt had told her about. It was rancid.
Wyatt led the way down the hall.
Marigold wasn't often skittish, but the dark corners were pitch black--alive, almost. No wonder Wyatt didn't mind the greenhouse.
He pushed open a door slowly at first, before swinging it wide.
A stench more powerful than anything Marigold had experienced before billowed out of the room like a cloud of fog.
She staggered back a step and gagged.
Wyatt looked at her apologetically. Or was he squinting because of the smell?
Now that they knew Hal was definitely not on the premises, they scavenged for a few cloths and soaked them beneath the sink, hoping to filter out the smell before trying again.
Marigold held her wet rag against her nose, having to force herself to breathe every time she ran out of air.
They stepped into the bedroom.
The first thing Marigold noticed was the drawings. Violent, angry black lines scraped across page after page after page.
The second thing she realized was that it really was of Gwydyr. All of it. She wasn't sure how--all the trees looked the same--but she knew.
And the third thing she saw was a picture. It looked brand new, teetering at the edge of an open drawer. It clearly hadn't been looked at often--the brown-and-white photo was far too new, probably taken and then never looked at again.
Marigold's chest tightened as she stepped over broken bottles, charcoal sticks, and notebooks to get there.
She picked up the photograph.
It was of a family--a father, a mother, and what looked to be a two-year-old infant. Marigold squinted at it. The father and mother looked so young. If she didn't know better, she would've said they were merely teenagers.
But they looked happy, as far as she could tell.
"Wyatt," she said, "come look at this."
Wyatt picked his way across the floor to stand over her shoulder. "Gee...that's Hal, holding the baby."
"Let me see," a voice said from the corner.
Marigold and Wyatt looked up to see Silas sulking in the shadows, his form barely visible in the blue light.
Marigold started. "You should warn a person before--"
But then Silas was beside them, reaching for the picture.
Marigold gasped audibly when he took it.
She'd never seen a ghost this powerful before. What was supplying him with this much energy?
Silas stared at the photo, unblinking.
The room stilled in silence.
And the blue light began flickering. Slowly, at first, but then erratically as if it were shorting out.
The room grew cold and damp at the same time and energy filled the room so quickly that even Wyatt could feel it on his skin.
Silas wasn't even looking at the picture anymore. His features were in another world entirely, his eyes rolling into the back of his head before turning completely black.
His body flickered from one place to another throughout the room--here one second and there the next.
The air was so congested with energy that Marigold's perfectly curled hair began to stand on end and made her eyes water.
"Silas--" Marigold started, but was cut short when the blue light bulb burst, shattering glass everywhere and leaving the room in complete and utter darkness.
Silence again.
Marigold's heart pounded so loudly that she was sure she could hear it outside of her body.
She found Wyatt's hand and held it, just to be sure he was still there.
Then, drawing in a painful breath of reeking air, she whispered, "Silas?"
No answer.
"Let's go," Wyatt said, pulling her through the ocean of debris until they were back in the hallway.
The rest of the house was dark now since the sun had gone down, so they didn't speak until they were outside.
They sucked in sweet, fresh air to catch their breath.
Wyatt looked around the yard curiously. Everything was quiet, serene even. The chickens murmured in their coop and everything seemed relatively ordinary, except for the extinguished blue light that always came through the bedroom window.
"I wonder where he went," Wyatt mused.
"That was something," Marigold breathed. "What did he see in that picture?"
"Who knows?" Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe the next time Hal left, Wyatt would do more snooping.
He shifted on his feet uncomfortably, putting his questions on hold for a moment. "Sorry about tonight, Marigold. I--"
Marigold flung her arms around him tightly.
Wyatt took this to mean that she was either frightened or relieved or both, but then she pulled away and kissed his cheek.
"This has been a swell date, Wyatt Best," she said.
He gave her a half-smile. "Despite or because of the angry ghost, just for future reference?"
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Heyyy everyone! Sorry for not posting on Thursday, so here's a new chapter to make up for it! My posting schedule will be MONDAY and FRIDAY next week, so keep an eye out!
~Do you think Silas is beginning to remember?
~What on earth have Marigold and Wyatt walked in on? XD
~Overall, how did their date go? =P
Thank you so much for reading! Don't forget to comment, vote, and share!