Chapter 16: It Smells Like Teen Spirit

17 4 1
                                    

After stepping out of the Banquet Hall, Oliver and Amelia carried their luggage over to the porch, stretched their arms, and leaned their backs against the cold gray doors.

Eyes look up at the black, starless sky as small crickets trade loud conversations with each other. The temperature was around sixty-two degrees—almost colder than Amelia's skin.

A misty fog hovered above the tall, thick grass, allowing the beads of flower-smelling moist to condense on Oliver's face. Speaking of the protagonist, the boy leaned against the facade of the building, massaging his stomach from the delicious meal he had earlier.

Wearing a lazy grin, Oliver said dreamily, "that was the best meal I ever had."

Amelia, who was turning away from a baby spider scurrying from the ceiling, rolled her eyes and mumbled, "Fatso" under her breath.

"Shut up, it was delicious," Oliver grumbled. "Maybe I should make something for the chef as a token of gratitude."

The vampire snorted, "do you even know what he looks like?"

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. "Probably an Italian bearded guy, wearing a Kiss the Cook apron."

"Wow, that is a very good description of a chef," Amelia says sarcastically.

Oliver gives her a foul look, then tells her to shut up again.

"Hey, I'm just being frank with you."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "I know that, but there comes a time when honesty can be really sensitive to others."

"Why?" Amelia scoffed. "Didn't your kind invent the phrase: 'Honesty is the best policy?' "

Oliver opened his mouth to speak when he detects a menacing, deep crimson aura spreading around them; like the atmosphere, its blistering temperature left a scary feeling in Oliver's stomach.

"Olly?" Amelia murmured, staring at the boy in fear. "Oliver, are you alright?"

The boy opens his mouth to respond, but the aura became so strong that his lips felt like dry cotton. Never in his life did he came across this haunted magic; Father Jacobs told him stories about demonic auras, but Oliver thought it was impossible. Until now.

Shaken by his silence, Amelia comes up to Oliver, kneels in front of him, and asked if he'd seen the ghost again.

Oliver shook his head. "No, but I think I see some kind of aura over there."

He points his finger over to the direction of the red energy and said, "it's over there."

Amelia scans her eyes across dark, blank canvas, but saw nothing unusual. Blades of grass still slithered against the shivering wind, the insects kept communicating through chirps and songs, and the porch lights grew bright like stars.

"Where is it, exactly?" she asked, squinting her eyebrows at him.

"What?" Oliver cried, looking back to the dark sky.

Confirming her disbelief, the bright red energy was gone.

"Sorry, mate, but I don't think I see your aura anywhere." said Amelia.

Oliver groaned, "but I saw it right there! You have to believe me!"

Concerned, Amelia walks up to Oliver and placed her cold hand on his shoulder.

She gives him a cautious hug and said quietly, "Of course I believe you, Oliver."

"No you don't," he grumbled.

"I am a vampire, Olly." Amelia reminded. "I believe in anything superstitious."

Then she adds in a whisper, "Like Jake."

"Jake?" asked Oliver, surprised.

"Yeah, Jake." Amelia nodded.

"Why?"

"Quitting a football team to hang out with stuck-up children is the most pathetic excuse I have ever heard. I don't trust him."

"You hate nice people," Oliver observed.

"Well of course not, niceties make me sick."

"What is your point?"

"Jake has to have a motive." Amelia explained. "Think about it, mate: even though that fire wiped out many innocent lives, why hasn't this camp shut down?"

Oliver pondered for a moment then shrugged.

"And where the hell did they get so much bloody cash?"

The boy thought back to the time where Camp Esterville had so many sponsors and advertisers chasing after them.

"Well, the camp has sponsors—" Oliver starts to say.

"Oh please, those wankers chickened out after the fire destroyed three-quarters of the woods." Amelia scoffed. "They even went on the telly, stating that Camp Esterville is 'a place for satanic cults, menaces, and corrupted minds'."

"So, why didn't they shut it down?" Oliver questioned.

"Why do you think?" Amelia sighed. "They assume that if they eradicate this camp, they will face drastic consequences."

"What?" Oliver scoffed. He'd never heard sponsors being afraid of their own project before. But then again, it was Esterville.

Somehow, Amelia does have a reasonable point. Without funds and sponsors, the place would look like an abandoned haunted house. So where did Jake get the money to pay for all this?

"Jake's a college football player," Oliver said, "maybe he has money."

"A college football player having ten grand in his pocket?" Amelia chuckled as if she was hearing a joke. "Unless Jake is playing for the NFL, or has wealthy parents like I do, I doubt he has that kind of money."

Oliver raised an eyebrow at her assumption then said, "I may not be a fan of Consumer Math, but do you think that Jake has some type of trust fund?"

Amelia nodded in response. "All the best looking guys do."

"Bigger than Max's ego?" Oliver asked in wonder.

Amelia nodded once more.

"Suspicious, isn't it?"

"It really is," Oliver agreed. "However, maybe we should find some evidence first. Not now obviously, but perhaps during our Loner investigation."

The vampire looks at him doubtfully. "Are you sure that she is even a Loner? Four girls died in '87—the news thought it was as big as the Kool-Aid Incident."

Oliver frowned with uncertainty.

"Well, I did only contact one ghost," he said, "however, she didn't mention that she has any friends—"

"Who has friends?" said a puzzled voice.

Turning their heads, Amelia and Oliver stumbled across their camp counselor, Jake Mitchell, who seemed more than interested in their conversation.

"Jake!" Oliver cried in bewilderment. "Uh, how long have you been standing there?"

Mirror, Mirror (Book 2)Where stories live. Discover now