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Between Death and Destiny

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

Twelve years ago

Reegan McGrath knew the old biddies were whispering about her; she could feel their eyes boring holes into her back as she rode her bike down Main Street, but she didn't turn around. Her stomach rolled; it always did after encountering Willows Bluff's most avid gossips, but she shook it off. Three more days, she reminded herself, and she would be out of this town.

She took solace in the fact that her ticket out of here was zipped up in the pocket of the knapsack she had slung across her back. Reegan smiled to herself. Her knapsack held her future. It concealed not only her bus ticket, but also her camera, which she would use to travel the country and make a name for herself as a photographer. In just three days ...

"Ears burning?" Reegan's best friend, Sydney Walters, asked when Reegan came to a halt beside her.

Sydney looked like a J. Crew model with her long blonde hair in a ponytail and her blue eyes shining. Reegan, on the other hand, was just glad she'd taken the time to wash the grit out of her gray eyes and brush her brown hair.

"Always are," Reegan said.

Sydney glared in the direction of the gossips. "One day we'll find out what all the fuss is about," she muttered. "Are you ready for our last adventure?" "As I'll ever be," she said. "Let me state for the record that the Willows gives me the creeps, and remind you the house is condemned."

"Duly noted," Sydney said, then inclined her head and suggested they get going.

Reegan pedaled behind Sydney as they made their way through town. I'll miss this most, Reegan thought, looking at her best friend. While she traveled the country taking pictures, Sydney would be attending college in the city. It was one of the hardships of growing up, learning to let go.

Her smile returned when they passed Ezra Kelly's gallery; she would miss him second most, Reegan decided. Ezra had invited her to get a sneak peek at tonight's showing, but then Sydney had called and Reegan had to decline his offer. In all honesty, she would prefer seeing the new art collection to walking through a condemned house, but she hadn't been able to say no to her best friend.

"It's magnificent!" Sydney said once they'd reached their destination.

"You would say that," Reegan groused as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. Why, after a five-mile trek uphill, didn't Sydney drip sweat like her? Rather, she glowed. The wisps of her hair curled attractively while Reegan's hair frizzed out like a bad '80s power ballad.

"A little enthusiasm please! Here, take a picture," Sydney said, then maneuvered herself around her bike and posed.

Reegan pulled her camera out of her knapsack, took off the lens cap, lifted the viewfinder, and snapped the photograph. Thinking about each step as if for the first time helped her relax. Reegan lifted the camera again and studied the house through the lens.

They called it the Willows because it was built on the exact spot where a willow tree, the town's namesake, once stood. Constructed toward the end of the nineteenth century by Bertrum Whit, who hadn't wanted his daughters exposed to all the town gossip and sin, the house sat on the tip of the bluffs isolated from everything except the water. Of course, it was a fifty-foot drop before you reached the cold sea, but the purpose still served.

A miniature Tara, the thought sprang into Reegan's mind, from Gone with the Wind would be the perfect pictorial comparison if she had to make one, but it was more Stephen King than Margaret Mitchell. What was left of the paint was curling off onto the porch, whose columns were shackled by wild vines. The cobbled walkway was overrun by weeds, and most of the windows were either cracked or broken. Though, as Reegan peered through her view finder, they seemed to be watching her ... appraising her.

"Holy —" Reegan screeched when Sydney touched her shoulder.

"Sorry," Sydney said. "You really are scared, aren't you?"

"You don't feel like it's watching us?" She put the camera's strap over her head and continued walking the rest of the way with her bike.

Sydney looked at the house then back to Reegan. "No!" She rubbed her hands together. "Ready?"

"As I'm ever gonna be," Reegan muttered.

Reegan followed her friend up to the porch and parked her bike. Sydney went to the door, took a deep breath, grasped the knob, and pushed. A drawn-out creak penetrated the silence around them, making Reegan cringe as she crossed the threshold.

"Oh my goodness," Sydney whispered and pulled a red flashlight out of her bag.

The beam of light skittered across spider webs and broken floorboards. Reegan wasn't sure if there could be fog inside the house, but there was definitely a haze. And a mustiness, she thought, rubbing her nose.

The wallpaper that still clung to the wall wasn't like what her father had put up in her grandma's bathroom. No — she reached out to touch it — this was actual fabric. Blood red fabric.

"Okay, we came, we saw, and now we can go," Reegan said turning.

"Are you kidding? It's everything I've dreamed! I won't ask you to stay if you don't want to" — Sydney shrugged — "but this is our last adventure together."

Reegan squeezed her eyes shut. "Okay, Syd."

"Here," Sydney said reaching into her bag and pulling out another flashlight. "I brought you one too."

Reegan's brow pinched at the flashlight in her hands. "But, Syd, this is your flashlight."

"I know, I brought Alan's for good luck."

Reegan sucked in a breath.

"Don't worry so much, Reegan. I took the flashlight from his room years ago, and Mother never noticed. I wanted a piece of my big brother with me."

"Aw, Syd, I'm sorry," she said. Sydney shrugged and continued what she was doing.

Reegan wasn't sorry; in fact, she was concerned. Though Alan had died before either of them was born, everyone knew the story of the Walters boy, who at sixteen had lost control of his car and gone off Weatherman's Bridge. The town was never the same after his accident nor, Reegan suspected, was Sydney's mother.

Mrs. Walters kept Alan's bedroom exactly as he'd left it the day he died, and Sydney wasn't allowed to go in there. April Desmond, who was a friend and one of the three maids that cleaned Sydney's house, said it was the only room Mrs. Walters forbade anyone from entering. The idea that Sydney had gone behind her mother's back —

"Hey, you have to see this," Sydney said shining her flashlight on a portrait. "It must be the Whits. They're incredible!"

Reegan stepped closer. The framed photo was of a man and three young ladies.

The man, who had to have been Mr. Whit, stared out of the photo with haunted eyes. His stark white hair stood out against his clean-shaven face. Two of his dark-haired daughters stood directly in front of him, while the third lighter-haired young woman stood in front. She thought their faces were familiar, but before she could say anything, Sydney pulled a pair of tattered drapes apart. A piercing screech rent the air, and a noise came from above her head.

"Did you hear that?" Reegan held the flashlight to her chest and stared at the ceiling.

"Probably rats," Sydney said, wrinkling her nose.

"Are you serious?" She stared at her friend. Opening the drapes had brightened the room a bit, which would have made her feel better if she didn't hear what she knew were footsteps! "Syd?"

Sydney turned, pointing to a staircase that Reegan hadn't even noticed. "Do you want to go investigate?"

"By myself?"

"How are you going to travel the country alone when you can't keep it together now?"

"I'm quite capable of handling things I can freaking see; it's what I can't see that freaks me out!"

Sydney huffed. "Fine! Hello, is anyone here?"

Reegan glared at Sydney, then jumped when there was movement from upstairs.

"What are you two doing here?"

Reegan wasn't sure if she was relieved or irritated that the voice belonged to Tori Elis. And wait for it, she thought, yep, there was Bernie. It was like a reunion ten years too early.

Bernie, Reegan thought, scrunching up her face, was what everyone called Bernadette Howard when they weren't calling her all the other names they'd made up. She was a little older than they were, and she'd graduated with them despite the time she had spent away from school. Her hair was a tangled mass of raven black and her eyes were ... well, Reegan didn't know because she couldn't bring herself to actually look at Bernie.

Reegan was bit ashamed of herself. She'd known Bernie all her life because their grandmas were best friends, but they'd never been friends. In fact, she didn't think they'd said more than a few hateful words to each other. Bernie's best friend was Tori Elis, and Tori was Sydney's archnemesis.

Tori was always, as Sydney would say, one unsavory step ahead of everyone. She was the picture of an angel with creamy skin, long golden brown hair, and big brown doe eyes. There was just something not quite right about her, Reegan thought, for the hundredth time.

Tori's family was the wealthiest in town, and Tori was the town darling. Mr. Elis was a partner in a law firm in the city, and Mrs. Elis had been a renowned psychiatrist before they were married. Reegan didn't understand why they let Tori be friends with Bernie; she was one of the poorest kids in school and people were scared of her because ... she didn't want to think about that.

"What are you doing here?" Sydney asked.

"Browsing," Tori replied, floating down the stairs. "Bernadette and I finally let our curiosity get the better of us." Bernie nodded.

"This is your first time here too?" Reegan asked before she could stop herself.

"Rumor has it they're going to tear it down at the end of summer, so we figured now or never. I'd hoped for more than what's here, but there isn't anything noteworthy."

"So says you," Sydney said and crossed her arms over her chest.

"The house has been deserted for nearly a hundred years, Syd," Reegan reminded her. Almost fifteen years after the Whits had moved in, Mr. Whit died in an accident, and his family went to live with relatives. After decades of abandonment, ownership of the property defaulted to the city, or that's what Reegan had heard.

"The portrait is still here and the drapes," Sydney said.

"No one is telling you not to snoop around, Sydney. Don't upset yourself so. Really, it's not that big a deal," Tori said with a condescending smile.

"Whatever!" Sydney sneered and headed up the rickety staircase.

"I guess that means I'm going upstairs too," Reegan said more to herself than anyone else, so it annoyed her when she heard Bernie's raspy, "Seems so." If Bernie didn't scare her, she would have said something; instead, she took the stairs two at a time.

They had gone through the house twice, and Tori hadn't lied when she said there wasn't much left. Upstairs were broken pieces of furniture, ripped wallpaper, and trash from partying teenagers. That disturbed Reegan. They lived in a small town. Her graduating class was less than a hundred kids, so she had to know them.

Maybe they were as sheltered as Sydney claimed. Sydney's parents had been teenagers when they had Alan, and in order to keep their daughter from the same fate, they didn't allow her to date, and if Sydney didn't date than neither did Reegan. It wouldn't surprise her if Tori was sheltered too because she had always been sickly. She was fragile as glass. Reegan smiled thinking of a glass angel with horns holding up the halo.

"Why are you smiling? This was such a letdown," Sydney said pouting.

"What happened to 'it's everything I dreamed'?" Reegan took a deep breath, glad to be out in the fresh air again. She stood on tiptoe to see over the bluff and into the rushing water. Pulling off the lens cap, she started taking pictures.

"What happened to 'it gives me the creeps'? Watch your step, Reegan!" Sydney shouted. "You don't want to fall in. You're a horrible swimmer."

"Thanks, I was in the zone," she said stepping back.

"Off in la-la land you mean." Sydney smirked. "I guess you're glad we came."

Reegan shrugged. "The bluffs are beautiful." She capped the lens and turned to walk back toward their bikes. "Why are you so disappointed?"

"I think Tori ruined it. I know what you're going to say, so don't start. Ow!" Sydney shrieked as she pitched forward and fell facedown on the ground.

"Are you okay?" Reegan moved to the side when Sydney rolled over, then offered her hand to help her to her feet.

"I'm fine. I tripped over something," she said, bending to pick her bag up from where it had fallen.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Reegan inspected Sydney for damage. There wasn't a hair out of place, not even a grass stain on her pristine khaki shorts or white t-shirt. If it had been her, Reegan knew, she'd be spitting out mud or grass or whatever.

"Yeah, I'm just glad Tori wasn't here to see my performance." She winced and glanced around.

"I'm pretty sure they left after we went upstairs."

"Oh, that's good. I can't believe they were here at all!" Sydney said with a stomp of her foot.

Coming around the front of the house, Reegan said, "It's hard to believe that this was their first time here too."

"You think she was lying?"

"I don't know," she said as she moved the kickstand with her foot and they headed down the path. "I mean, what are the chances?"

"You may be onto something, Reegan," Sydney said. "Who's that?" She motioned with her head to the group of guys down the hill.

Reegan lifted her camera and zoomed in. "Looks like Justin, Adam, and Phillip," she said.

"I don't know why Phillip continues to hang out with those two losers, but I'll miss him just the same."

Reegan snorted. "Sydney, you haven't said more than two words to the guy since he hit puberty." Phillip Hastings was the town's golden boy — star quarterback, class president — and his father was the sheriff.

"That's not true!" Sydney said, then giggled. "Okay, it's a little true. But honestly, can you blame me? He went from scrawny to drop-dead gorgeous in one summer."

"Yeah, but he's still the same Phillip," Reegan reminded her. He had sandy blond hair, hazel eyes, and a smile that Sydney said made her knees weak. Reegan didn't worship the guy like Sydney did, but he'd always been nice to her. "I wish you wouldn't call Justin and Adam losers."

"I know you like them, but seriously, Reegan, they have no ambition."

"How can you say that?" Reegan stopped in her tracks. "Justin got a full scholarship to State!" Justin's thick glasses took up most of his freckled face, his dark red hair looked like someone put a bowl on his head and cut, and his hand-me-down clothes were too small for his lengthy frame. But he was smart, funny, and he was doing something with his life.

"You're right, the full ride to State is impressive," she conceded.

"And you don't like Adam because his sister cleans your house!" Reegan's hand flew up to cover her mouth.

"What?" Sydney hissed.

"I'm sorry, Syd, it just came out. I know you've been nothing but nice to April." That was true enough. April had told Reegan the Walterses were more than generous.

"I can't believe you just said that!" Sydney shouted, her face turning red. "It's because you're poor and I'm rich, isn't it?

"Hey!" Her family wasn't poor; maybe they couldn't afford what Sydney's family could, but they did okay. Her mother was a nurse at the elementary school, and her father was a carpenter; money wasn't coming in by the bucketful, but she hadn't wanted for anything.

"You started it! Saying I would treat Adam badly because his sister cleans my house. I don't judge people based on who their family is; I base my opinion on how they treat me," Sydney said, poking herself in the chest for emphasis.

"What's Adam ever done to you?"

"He's a punk, Reegan, and he's scary," Sydney said, then lowered her voice. "Everyone says he's in one of those satanic cults!"

Adam Desmond had his black hair gelled into spikes, he wore shirts held together by safety pins, and his blue eyes were hidden behind black contacts. Reegan knew in Willows Bluff that behavior was a big no-no, but that was beside the point.

"He's just different, Syd. And you know there's no way in hell Justin or Phillip would hang out with a devil worshipper!"

"I don't like the way he looks at me."

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Excerpted from Between Death and Destiny by W. L. Brooks. Copyright © 2016 B. L. Wolfe. Excerpted by permission of The Wild Rose Press, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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