High Energy, Joy, Dara [books to read this summer .txt] 📗

cemetery to see if—" A

light came into Tyber's eyes. An unholy light.

"All right."

"What do you mean, all right?"

"Let's go down there tonight—at midnight. Check it out."

Zanita swallowed nervously. She always got the willies over ghost stories. "We

don't have to—I have to get this article done and—"

"So, write your article now. I need to finish up something myself," he said

mysteriously. Then, "You're not afraid, are you?"

"Don't be silly! Okay, you're on."

"Fine. We'll rendezvous in the foyer at eleven."

"Fine." Her voice quavered slightly.

Tyber stood to leave, stopping to point a finger at her. "If you don't show up,

Curls, I'll know you're chicken."

Zanita snorted disdainfully, turning back to her article as if to dismiss him.

It was just as well she didn't see the expression of ungodly glee on his roguish

face.

Hollywood couldn't have done it better.

A dense fog wafted around the decrepit headstones, several of which had fallen

over and settled thickly around the cab of the truck. The light of a full moon

filtered eerily through the thick, soupy haze, barely illuminating the road they

were parked on. The only road out.

An owl hooted atmosphere into the night. A cold, biting damp permeated the

interior of the truck, seeping into her bones even with the stadium blanket

Tyber had thrown over them.

She could hear Boris Karloff assuring her that this was a thriller.

She expected to see Michael Jackson and his moonwalking zombies any time now.

Zanita peered at the small digital clock Tyber had hung on the dash. 11:40.

Twenty minutes to go.

"Do you want to tell ghost stories?" Zanita could hear the mocking laughter in

his voice.

"No." It was the last thing she wanted to do. This is creepy. How had he

maneuvered her into this display of idiocy?

Tyber leaned back in the seat, vainly trying to stretch his long legs out. He

laced his hands behind his neck, cracking a few cold, stiff joints in the

process, then draped his arm across the back of her seat.

He stared straight ahead. "Want to neck?"

"No."

"Have you thought about who you're going to invite for the weekend?"

She turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"I told LaLeche we were having some friends down for the weekend; it seemed a

convenient excuse to invite him. Don't you think he'll be suspicious if there's

nobody there but him?"

"Why didn't you mention this before! What are we going to do?"

"We?"

"It was your plan!"

"Yes, but it's your story." Zanita folded her arms over her chest and glared at

him. "Okay, okay. Think of some people. Fast. What about your girlfriend Mills?"

"Mmm. She might; especially if she's not doing anything this weekend. I've

already told her about your house, and she's dying to see if it's as kooky…" Her

voice trailed off as she realized what she was saying.

Tyber's brows slanted down, making him look rather like a disgruntled Viking.

"Who else?"

"I don't know."

"How about Hank and your grandmother?"

"No! I don't want Hank getting a clue about this. What about some of your

friends and colleagues?"

"No way. Forget it. Get that idea right out of your head."

"Why not?"

"Why not, she says. Other than irrevocably destroying my credibility amongst my

colleagues and friends by setting them up to get bilked by a con man, I can't

think of a single reason."

Zanita snorted. "Oh, Tyber, no one expects you to be normal."

He threw her a look. "I am a well-respected eccentric. At least I was until I

met you."

"What about Stan Mazurski?"

"Stan?" He said the word as if it had just been coined. "Okay, he seems stolid

enough not to fall under LaLeche's spell. I'll invite him and his wife for

dinner on Friday night."

"Not for the weekend?"

"Don't push it. Who else?"

Zanita tapped her chin. "I suppose there's always Auntie." She said it like a

true New Englander: ahn-tee.

"Why does that statement make me uncomfortable? Who is Auntie?"

"Hank's sister, my great-aunt. Oh, you'll love her, Tyber; she's wonderful."

"Why would you place a sweet, elderly aunt in the sphere of a piranha like

LaLeche? I don't think it's a good idea. Why are you giggling?"

"Auntie eats piranhas."

Tyber's eyes widened. He sank down in the seat as he got the picture. Great.

Aunt From The Planet Attitude. Just great. "All right, invite her down for the

weekend, but I want you to clue her in just the same."

"I won't have to. You'll see. She loves hats—always wears three of them."

He was afraid of that.

"I'll ask My—Maggy in to help Blooey with the serving."

"Who's your Maggy?" Zanita's tone held just a faint trace of jealousy, but not

so faint that Tyber didn't pick up on it. He immediately decided to play on it

by acting chagrined.

"I, ah—an old friend. I like her a lot. My—Maggy's a hell of a woman." Zanita

pursed her lips. Interesting, he thought. First Kim, now My Maggy. Zanita was

definitely showing potential.

"Will she be staying the weekend?" Her voice was flat.

"If I'm lucky. I really need her." He counted to three. Zanita lit off right on

time. He stretched his arm back behind her seat.

"What do you mean, you need her!" She walloped him in the stomach with her

enormous purse. "I won't—"

"Shh! What was that? Did you hear something?"

"W-what?"

"I thought I heard something—listen!"

Zanita went instantly still. "I don't hear anything."

"Look, it's midnight," he whispered, pointing at the clock.

Then she heard it. Faintly at first, getting slightly louder as if it were

coming toward them. A clip-clop of horses. Harnesses tinkling in the night. The

roll of wooden wheels over... gravestones?

Zanita was paralyzed in terror. Any moment she fully expected to see a ghostly

carriage loom out of the fog, the visage of a decaying corpse peering out the

window at her as it rolled by. She sucked in her breath.

A hand trailed its way down her neck.

Zanita let out a blood-curdling scream.

Tyber doubled over, laughing his head off. A small tape recorder rested in the

palm of his hand. She turned to him with the light of murder in her eyes.

"Trick or treat?" He blinked ingenuously at her.

"Evans, you are dead meat!"

The truck had not even come to a complete stop before Tyber jumped out and raced

up the stairs, a furious Zanita on his tail.

"Now, Zanita— " He was still laughing, which ignited her further. She chased