Tommy Nightmare(95)

She rode the elevator down and stepped out into Meeting Street, where the pedestrians were all streaming in one direction—towards the thundering music festival at the harbor.

Jenny called Darcy.

“Hiya,” Darcy said. “Are you here yet?”

“I just parked,” Jenny said. “Did you find Seth?”

“Um, kind of.”

“Kind of?” Jenny dodged around an artist shilling caricatures on the sidewalk.

“Well, I'm at the hotel, so just come meet me here,” Darcy said. “Go down Meeting Street until you hit Battery, then turn left, and you'll see the front doors of the hotel—”

“You already told me that!” Jenny snapped. “What about Seth? Is he hurt?”

“It's hard to explain on the phone. I'll just see you in a minute, okay? I'll wait on the front porch.” Darcy hung up.

Annoyed, Jenny jogged the rest of the way. When she hit the intersection with Battery, she stopped and drew a deep breath.

Her worst nightmare lay in front of her. It was a dense crowd as far as she could see in either direction, clumping here and there around vendors offering hot dogs and face painting. She would have to thread her way through a bunch of drunk kids without touching any of them.

Jenny folded her arms in tight and scrunched her shoulders to make herself small. Though she was fully dressed in jeans, a long-sleeve blouse and a pair of gloves, she didn't want to take any risks. A little gap of skin could open between her shirt sleeve and her glove, and if that brushed against someone, they'd get infected.

She turned onto Battery Street. The crowd around her was mostly her age, high school and college students. Jenny watched them hugging, and dancing, and just horsing around with each other.

Darcy sat on one of the half-dozen rocking chairs parked on the front porch of The Mandrake House. She stood and waved when she saw Jenny, leaving the chair rocking precariously far behind her.

“Hey, Jenny! Hey, over here!”

“I can see you, Darcy.” Jenny ran up the front walk and onto the porch of the hotel. “What's going on with Seth?”

“Well, um, it's kinda hard to say—”

“Where is he?”

“Up in our room.” Darcy held up a plastic keycard marked 303. “But maybe this isn't a good time for you to go up there.”

“Why not?” Jenny asked.

Darcy shrugged.

“Just give me the card!” Jenny snatched the keycard from Darcy's hand, then stomped toward the front door of the hotel. She knew distantly that she was being a bitch to Darcy, and she'd probably need to apologize later. But right now, with everything crashing down on her, she just needed to get to Seth. She needed to see that he was all right, and she needed him to make her feel sane again. Not to mention healing her dad and making him sane again, too.

“So I'll just wait for you here, then?” Darcy asked as Jenny stepped inside. Jenny didn't bother answering. Darcy hadn't answered her question, after all.

Jenny passed through the lobby of the hotel, which was stuffed with hand-carved furniture and lots of paintings and rugs, and she jabbed the button for the elevator. She jabbed it repeatedly, then lost patience and took the carpeted stairs two at a time.

She reached the third floor, which was a short hallway with only a few doors. The brass door numbers were sculpted in some frilly font with a lot of curlicues, so it took her a moment to identify 303.

Jenny figured out how to insert the keycard into the slot next to the door handle. She depressed the handle and pushed open the door.

“Seth?” she asked as she stepped into the room. The door opened onto some kind of sitting room, with a balcony outside. Two doors led off from the sitting room, both of them closed.

Behind one door, she heard Seth's voice cry out, as if he were in agony.

“Seth!” Jenny ran to the door and pushed it open. “Seth, what's wrong?”

The scene inside the room hit her hard.

Seth lay on the bed, naked, all the covers shoved down around his feet. His hands were tucked behind his head, under his pillow, just relaxing and having a great old time.

A girl straddled him, moving up and down on him and panting and sweating. For a second, Jenny could have sworn it was Ashleigh—tall, a head of long blond hair, tan all over. Jenny nearly lost her balance.

For one long, paranoid moment, Jenny thought the last several months had been some extremely elaborate game—Jenny's relationship with Seth, and Jenny killing Ashleigh—all of it faked. If anybody could cook up some deception that elaborate, it was Ashleigh.

“Oh!” the blond girl cried out, and she bounced harder on Seth. “Oh! Oh! Oh!”

It wasn't Ashleigh, Jenny realized now, but some girl who looked a hell of a lot like her. Like Seth had been missing Ashleigh and wanted another taste of what he'd lost. Maybe Jenny's pale scarecrow body wasn't doing it for him anymore.