Walking Sticks: The Gift

Inc.

Walking Sticks:

The Gift

by

Sharron Riddle

The Walking Sticks Series

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Walking Sticks: The Gift

COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Sharron Riddle Houdek

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Black Rose Edition, 2014

Print ISBN 978-1-62830-382-7

Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-383-4

The Walking Sticks Series

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

This book is dedicated to all of my fellow horror lovers.

To my four beautiful daughters,

who have lived with a very odd mother.

To my beta readers, especially Renee,

who keeps after me when I suffer self doubt.

And as always, to my amazing editor, Frances,

who inspires me in so many ways.

Part One: The Gift

Chapter One

Day One, Wednesday, December 21

Riva slammed her locker and jammed in earplugs, thumbing up the volume on her phone’s music app. Distracted by her history project, she swung around too fast and collided with Michelle Templeton. The collision sent the queen bitch’s phone flying from her hand, and it landed face up on the tile floor. The cheerleader/jock crowd stopped to gape, eyeing Michelle with malevolent grins.

Crap, Riva muttered, scrambling to retrieve the phone.

Michelle kicked her from behind, hard enough to send her sprawling onto her belly. The earplugs popped out. Tinny strains of Katy Perry’s Roar mocked the humiliation of a cool breeze sweeping up her thighs. An explosion of laughter confirmed her worst fear. Her uniform skirt must’ve slipped up past her underwear. More kids stopped, smiling and pointing. Phones whipped out, and camera flashes blinded her as she scrambled to her feet.

Just let me die now, she thought, backing against the lockers to keep the crowd from surrounding her.

What the hell? Her best friend, Nick, shouldered through the crowd. What happened? He shoved dark bangs away from his worried green eyes. His Navy uniform blazer hung open, unbuttoned, his tie loosened.

Riva relaxed her stiff stance, knowing Michelle wouldn’t slap her or shove her into a locker with Nick there.

Your little freak bumped into me on purpose, Michelle tossed her blonde mane. She made me drop my phone. She turned on Riva. You’re lucky you didn’t break it. I doubt you make enough at the IGA to buy me a new one.

Riva’s face heated. Damn rich kids. Every year, the school administrators tossed the future Wolves of Wall Street a few new scholarship students to sharpen their teeth on.

Nice underwear. One of the jocks held up his phone. Yeah, there they were. Black with red skulls. No doubt, they were already plastered all over every social media site.

She sneered a smile. Thanks. Anyone miss the photo op? She stuck out her rear and flipped up her skirt.

Nick grabbed her arm, dragging her down the hall. Don’t feed the animals, he said, frowning at her.

Why? What difference does it make? They all hate me anyway. God, she hated this place. Ninety-eight more days remained to her sentence in this asylum. If she survived that long, she’d never see these jackasses again.

Nick hooked his arm through hers. She swallowed, her heart stuttering a bit. He always touched her so casually. Holding her hand, rubbing her back, brushing hair from her face, but that’s as far as he went. Maybe one day she’d grow a pair and kiss him smack on the lips. Her stomach twisted in a fit of spasms, imagining his reaction. What if he banished her permanently to the friend zone?

She shoved her hands into her cardigan pockets, staring at the polished marble floors, concentrating on the laughter and smart-ass remarks from the kids behind her. Anything to stop torturing herself with all this Nick crap.

No, they don’t. I know a lot of kids who like you.

She was about to argue when Kerry, her only other friend in private school hell, skipped up to them. Kerry grabbed Riva’s sweater, jumping up and down, her black curls bouncing more than her enviable boobs. Riva tried not staring at them, but she was so short, and they were right in her face.

It’s almost here! I can’t wait. Are you still spending the night? Please say you are. My mom won’t let me stay by myself, and who knows when she’ll ever go out of town again. She grinned, her black eyes huge, her perfect, milky skin pinked on her cheeks.

Riva pried Kerry’s hands off, brushing her arms. She took a step back, out of reach, managing not to cringe, but she hated people touching her. Well, except for Nick. Whoa, one thing at a time. Yes, I told you I’d stay over. What’s almost here?

My Christmas present from my Aunt Julie! You know. All the creepy stuff I have in my room?

Oh, sure. What’s she sending you?

I don’t know, she won’t tell me, but it’s coming from New Zealand. She gave me the tracking number. Global Transit says it’ll be at my house before five.

Did you guys want me to come over for a while tonight? Nick asked, holding open the outside door for them. Swirls of air carrying winter smells of burning leaves and cold rushed past them.

Riva said no at almost the same time Kerry said yes.

I thought we’d have a girls’ night. Riva winced at the flash of hurt on Nick’s face.

She stared down at her loafers, too ashamed to look at him again. What a liar. A girl’s night, with nail painting and hair curling? She hated that stuff and he knew it, but it killed her the way Nick acted around Kerry, all shy and flirty. She’d been crushing on him since the fourth grade. Then Kerry moved to town, and enrolled at Westchase. That was okay, too, since sometimes it was nice to have a girl to talk to. But Nick and Kerry together, alone at Kerry’s house? That would smash Riva’s heart to bits.

Maybe tomorrow. Kerry smiled apologetically then glared at Riva. You can keep me company while Riva’s at work.

Riva shivered, glancing at the roiling clouds overhead. She pulled her sweater tight, readjusting her backpack on her shoulder.

To her massive relief Nick shook his head. My cousin’s school program is tomorrow night, and then we’re going to dinner. Maybe Thursday.

Sure, Kerry said, her lips tight.

What the hell was that about? Before she had a chance to think about it, the doors swung open and Michelle and her friends tumbled out in a noisy, laughing mass. Riva stepped closer to Nick, who draped an arm over her shoulder.

Don’t worry, Little Red, he spoke near her ear, then ruffled her short red curls.

Hey, Kerry, any time you want to ditch your little bitch, you and your hottie can come hang with us. Michelle chortled, eliciting chuckles from her minions.

Riva felt Nick’s body stiffen. His arm tightened around her, pulling her against his chest.

I’m good, thanks, Kerry said, planting a hand on her hip.

Whispers and shrieks of laughter ensued. Michelle climbed into her Escalade, her best friend Lindsay climbing in beside her. A few spots down, her jock boyfriend revved the engine of his classic, cherry red Camaro. Brad squealed out of his parking spot, almost hitting a minivan when he pulled onto the school driveway without slowing. Michelle followed close behind, both of them flying onto the highway with barely a pause. Not far behind them, another boy pulled out in a Beamer sedan. A cop car pulled out from behind the school sign, nabbing the kid.

That is so typical. Michelle and Brad were driving way crazier than that guy, Kerry grumbled.

Riva frowned. McIntosh would never pull Michelle over; he’s got his head too far up her father’s ass.

You keep saying that. Are you sure? Nick let go of her, stepping away.

Cold air stole the warmth his body had provided. Riva shivered again. Yes, I’m sure, but I can’t prove it.

Kerry’s phone dinged. It’s my mom, she’s leaving soon. I’ve got to get home. When are you coming over?

I’ll be there as soon as I pack. The thought of going home, of facing her mother, sent an oily dread through her stomach.

Cool. See ya. Kerry gave Riva and Nick each a hug before trotting to her black Mountaineer.

You want me to come with you? Nick offered, which deepened her embarrassment.

Nah, I can handle my mom.

Okay, see you tomorrow, unless you change your mind about tonight. He gave her a half smile that nearly melted her resolve, and then he kissed her cheek with warm soft lips. She wished she had the nerve to turn her head, to meet his kiss with one of her own. But what if he pulled away, or even worse, what if he laughed?

Instead, she stepped away from him, clearing her throat.

See you tomorrow, she said a little breathily and hurried to her car. Maybe tomorrow she’d tell him how she felt.

She laughed, shaking her head as she tossed her backpack onto the passenger seat of her ancient Corolla. Sure, and maybe Michelle and her bi-otch friends would fall off the planet.

****

Kerry sat on the fourth step, petting her gray tomcat, Leo. She tried focusing on her mom’s last minute instructions, but her thoughts kept detouring to Aunt Julie’s gift. No doubt, it was something exceptionally creepy for her collection.

Her shrink accused her of collecting dark objects to distract her from her dark inner demons, but Kerry just thought they were cool.

The first remarkable gift arrived almost eight years ago, on her tenth birthday. That was four years before her parent’s divorce and all the crap that came after, proving her shrink was the real lunatic. Had the doc even read her file?

That year she’d asked for a popular vampire doll. Aunt Julie’s so-called authentic Romanian vampire killing kit had been a shocking, thrilling surprise. The velvet-lined box held a wooden cross, holy water, a musty smelling bible, and most impressive, a mallet and a suspiciously stained wooden stake.

Kerry had gushed her appreciation to Aunt Julie and the oddities kept coming. She’d loved the antique Ouija board from Paris, and the Haitian voodoo dolls and everything else that now cluttered her bedroom shelves.

Last week, Aunt Julie texted from New Zealand, telling Kerry she’d found the most amazing gift ever. She glanced again at her phone, but the Global Transit site merely said in transit.

I left a credit card and some cash in the desk drawer, and there’s plenty of soup and ravioli in the pantry… Her mom stood by the front door, her suitcase and briefcase sitting by her feet. Outside, lighting flashed across the gray winter sky.

Still dressed in her school uniform, Kerry twisted her black braid while she considered which excited her more—her mom leaving or the package arriving.

Definitely, Mom leaving. She almost felt guilty watching her mom fret. Not.

Are you even listening to me? Her mom snapped her fingers in Kerry’s face.

Yes, yes. Food in pantry, credit card in the drawer, I got it. Kerry leaned past her mom, nearly squealing to see the Global Transit truck turning down their gravel driveway. It’s here!

Her mom followed her gaze. Ah yes. Julie’s latest addition to your house of horrors.

You mean my house of awesomeness.

Apparently awesomeness is subjective, her mother said dryly, buttoning her overcoat.

The foyer light flickered when the doorbell rang. Kerry didn’t flinch. Living in this ancient farmhouse in the middle of Nowhere, Illinois, she’d grown used to things like electrical mishaps, and even the occasional rattling chains in the attic. Okay, maybe not the chains.

I’ll get it! She hopped up, nearly dumping Leo down the steps. He scrambled to his feet, glaring as he settled on the bottom stair, flicking his tail.

I hate leaving with the electric on the blink. Her mom glanced up at the offending fixture. Maybe I’ll ask Mr. Gregory if he can take care of the deal without me.

It’s only the wind, Kerry insisted. And if you change your mind now, I swear I’ll climb on the roof and jump.

Her mom made a choking sound.

Chill, Mom. It was a joke, okay? Not really a joke, as much as an exaggeration.

I’m sorry, you’re right, her mom said unconvincingly. She pulled black curls from under her collar. She was tall and thin like Kerry, with the same olive skin and black gypsy eyes. The Weather Channel says there’s a storm coming. Be careful, okay?

Right on cue, thunder rumbled in the distance. Kerry refused to show an ounce of nerves.

The doorbell rang again, sending the hall light into flickering fits.

Mom!

Her mom opened the door to a flurry of tumbling leaves. Smells of wood smoke and snow rushed around Kerry on a frigid breeze. She shivered, pulling her sweater tighter.

Lightning flashed. A few seconds later, thunder rumbled loud enough to rattle windows. The delivery guy cringed in the doorway, clutching a long, narrow bundle—her bundle.

Sign here, please, he said, simultaneously shoving the package and his electronic signature board at her mom.

Honestly, how do you expect me to…? her mother blustered. Kerry, take this. She swung around, heaving the paper-wrapped parcel into Kerry’s arms.

Kerry staggered under the unexpected weight. It’s heavy, she said, propping it beside the roll top desk in the living room.

Leo hissed, arching his back, smashing himself against the balusters.

The package stood almost as tall as Kerry, with a narrow girth and a bulbous end that she rested on the floor. An address label and customs paperwork were affixed to the side.

When her mom closed the door, Leo morphed into a growling gray puffball. She bent to soothe him, but he swatted her hand and dashed up the stairs.

He hates me, her mom said, joining Kerry.

He hates this package. The moment the words passed her lips, a warning chill spilled down her spine.

It’s upside down. Her mom turned the bundle so the heavy end balanced on top. There, that’s better. For your sake, I hope they made the trip okay. Julie texted me a picture. She opened a desk drawer, scraping around for a pair of scissors. They’re absolutely hideous. They’ll fit right into your collection.

You know what it is? Kerry asked, tearing the corner of the package.

Wait and see. Her mom cut a circle under the bulbous end, ripping away paper and padding. There. Like I said, house of horrors.

Walking sticks. They’re amazing. Kerry touched the aged brown bone of a protruding skull. What are they? Monkey?

She turned them around, examining one skull with its smashed-in temple, and another charred black as if someone had tried burning it. The last skull appeared unblemished, though after seeing the others, Kerry figured that monkey hadn’t died very pleasantly either.

Look at this. The jawbones are attached with leather rope. She picked at the petrified ties.

They’d have to be or they would have fallen off when the tendons decomposed. By the browning and condition of the bone, I’d estimate they’re about two hundred years old, her mother said, studying the skulls with scientific scrutiny. She frowned, straightened up. These actually look more like human infants than monkeys.

Her mom worked in acquisitions and cataloging for the Field Museum in Chicago, and she was an expert at identifying ancient remains.

No, that would be too gross, even for Julie. Kerry examined the sticks more closely. The idea burrowed like a tick into her brain. She shuddered, thinking about small rotting corpses. Wondering what sick person would attach human skulls to walking sticks.

Mom, look at this. Are they real? She pinched a silver-white pearl inside the socket.

Her mom shook her head. They can’t be. Pearls that size would cost a fortune. But they’re excellent imitations.

Kerry slid the skull with the fractured temple from its wrapping. Look at this artwork. It’s so beautiful.

She ran her hand down the two perfectly carved wood spirals. They twisted around each other in a double helix that joined in a flattened loop at the bottom. A whittled figure of a human body with the head of a bird sat right below the skull.

Kerry raised her brows. What is that?

Her mom inspected the design. I’ve only seen this once or twice, but I think it’s a Maori symbol called Manaia. It’s a messenger between the worlds of mortals and spirits, and these spirals represent unending life.

Maori?

Yes, the indigenous peoples of New Zealand, her mother said in her professional tone. Which is another reason to believe these are human rather than monkey. New Zealand has no native land mammals other than bats.

Kerry nodded, trying not to seem excited. Yes, real human skulls would be awful, but sort of a fantastic mystery, too. Unending life. That’s ironic, don’t you think?

More sad than ironic, said her mom. She checked out the window, then looked at her watch. The limo’s late. I wonder if the roads are getting slick. Maybe I should leave tomorrow.

Stop babying me, Mom. The roads are fine and you’ll be home in four days.

Her mom sighed. I simply worry about all the things that could happen.

Kerry bit down on her lip to keep her sarcastic retorts to from slipping out, like how the hell can anything happen if her mom never left her alone?

Anyway, I’ll be home on Christmas Eve, and we’ll open presents together, her mom went on.

They both turned to the Christmas tree, glowing pleasantly in front of the living room window. Half a dozen wrapped gifts lay scattered on the satin skirt beneath it.

Sure, that’ll be fun. God, if that limo driver didn’t show up soon, she’d drive her mom to the airport herself.

All at once, the stick grew warm in Kerry’s hand. When she closed her eyes, an odd serenity settled over her. Until it moved. It didn’t slip through her hand, which would have been startling. The wood slithered along her palm, like an uncoiling snake.

She flung the stick away, sending it clattering onto the desk.

What? Her mom spun around, her eyes sparking concern.

It’s nothing. Kerry wiped her palm on her skirt. It creeped me out a little, thinking they might actually be human. I’m fine.

Sometimes my sister goes too far. I’m sure she thought they’d be a fun Christmas present, but really, this has crossed a line. If you don’t like them, I’ll gladly get rid of them.

No, I love them, really. The wood must have rolled in her hand, she decided. The spiral shape imitated the feel of a slithering snake. I can’t wait to show these to Riva. You know she loves skulls. She ripped away more wrapping, and a letter fluttered to the floor.

The doorbell rang again. That must be the limo. I’ve got to run. Her mother kissed Kerry’s cheek and gave her a quick hug. I still hate you staying here alone.

Mom, I’m almost eighteen. I can see the neighbor’s house across the street. Besides, I won’t be alone. I told you, Riva’s staying over.

I know. It’s just… Her mom lifted her suitcase, glanced up at flickering bulb. Won’t you at least consider calling your father? He’d love to have you.

I’m not wasting my winter break with Dr. Strangelove.

Kerry! He’s your father, show him some respect.

Like he showed us when he ran off with his little blonde intern?

Do what you want, Ker. I have to go. Her mom flung open the door, startling the elderly driver so badly he nearly stumbled off the porch. He recovered quickly, taking her bags. I’ll call you in a few hours.

The door slammed shut, and the house went silent, except for the old grandfather clock ticking in the dining room and the humming fridge down the hall.

Guilt jabbed at Kerry, but really, stay with Dr. Strangelove and his Barbie doll wife? Not to mention the annoying Barbie spawn. Maybe. When Hell froze over.

No, not even if the devil was doing backflips on the ice.

She caught a movement at the top of stairs. Leo sat in the hallway, still growling.

Whatever. Crazy cat. She pulled out her cell, smiling to see twelve missed texts from Riva.

Mom finally left!!!! When can u b here? she texted.

The phone buzzed seconds later. Already packed c u in 30.

She’d barely slipped the phone into her sweater pocket when it buzzed again. Her mom was calling.

Hi, she said, braced for the scolding.

Kerry, I’m sorry. You have every right to your own feelings.

I’m sorry, too. That wasn’t fair, she said.

It’s fine. I’ll call you after I check in. Love you, sweetie.

I love you, too. She walked around the Christmas tree. Steam clanked through the pipes and hissed out of the ancient radiator in the corner. Outside, lightning and thunder seemed to crash against each other. To Kerry’s surprise, rather than rain, the clouds spewed ribbons of swirling snow.

You have your medication if you need it, right? her mom asked.

Kerry froze, her heart accelerating with her anger. I haven’t taken a pill in ten months.

I know, but I worry with you being home without an adult.

I am an adult. Heat flamed up Kerry’s cheeks. Riva will be here, and if the storm gets too bad, Nick’s parents said I could stay there.

There’s no disgrace in needing a little help once in a while. Many people suffer from anxiety disorders.

Lots of kids have issues when their parents divorce, too. I’m over it, Kerry snapped back.

It wasn’t merely the divorce. We both know that. Her mother’s voice grew raspy.

Kerry’s hand shook, her bloodless fingers crushing the phone. How am I supposed to forget that shit if you keep bringing it up? Let it go, Mom. I have.

She squashed the end call button, sitting heavily on the desk’s rolling chair.

Her aunt’s letter lay near her feet, so she bent to retrieve it, unfolding the single sheet written in Jules’ small, neat script.

Hi Ker Bear!

God, she hated that nickname.

Hope you love the walking sticks. I was in New Zealand doing a piece on the impact of the Lord of the Rings tourism. Hobbits and helicopter rides. How cool is that?

Any-hoo, I bought the sticks from an old man in one of those gift shops outside an authentic Maori village. I only wanted one, but he told me, in roughly translated Maori, that to separate the sticks would awaken the wairua tapu—the sacred spirits of the daughters of a Nga Turehu. Nga Turehu are some kind of fairy creatures from New Zealand legend.

Honestly, he seemed more afraid of not separating me from enough of my money.

I had to declare them as monkey skulls or they never would have made it through customs. I know your mom says there are no monkeys in New Zealand, but some locals told me that a handful of owl monkeys were freed into the wild by an eccentric collector about a hundred years ago.

Some trapper probably thought he’d be clever, making those sticks and claiming they were cursed. If your mom’s too weirded out, she can run DNA tests or something.

Got to go, plane is leaving for Bora Bora. I’ll probably be in Taha’a by the time you read this. I’m trying to fit in a trip to the States for your birthday next March. The big 1-8!

Love you, miss you,

Your favorite aunt.

Kerry re-read the note, smiling at the idea of a curse. The man probably had a closetful of inseparable sticks waiting for the next sucker. She refolded the letter and put it in a side drawer, deciding to give one of the sticks to Riva for Christmas. Her friend would get a kick out of the skull. She lifted the staff from the desk, ready to drop it if anything strange happened. All she felt was smooth wood.

What did you expect? Lightning bolts?

That instant, lightning flashed through the room. She screeched and then laughed. What a chicken. A few seconds later, a deep boom shook the room. Sleety snow ticked against the glass, the icy wind finding every crack in the house. She took a deep breath. The sticks, and the storm and this creaky old house conspired against her nerves.

And her mom hadn’t helped, reminding her of that crap with Kellan.

No, no, don’t think about him, don’t think, don’t think…

Before his face appeared, her brain slammed a door, banishing him. The one useful trick she’d learned from her therapist.

Clutching her stick, she dashed up the steps to finish her homework. Her history teacher wanted project outlines turned in tomorrow, before winter break.

Leo hissed when she neared him in the upstairs hallway, darting into her mother’s room. He crouched in the doorway as she passed, dashing out to bat at the wood.

I get it. You hate anything new in the house. Relax, okay? She bent to pet him, but he smacked her hand, leaving a trail of welling red beads.

What is wrong with you, huh?

Wild-eyed, Leo darted under her mother’s bed.

She shook her head. Now the cat was freaking her out. Like she needed this shit.

In her room, Kerry propped the stick against the shelves that held her collection. She picked up the voodoo doll that had fallen to the floor, placing it next to its mate.

She dropped her backpack on the hardwood, its thump making her jump. Okay, this was ridiculous. Noise. She needed noise. She dug her phone from her pack and plugged it into its docking station, cranking up her classic rock set. The Stones’ Sympathy for the Devil blared from the speakers.

Much better. She sat at her desk, winding the rod to open the slats on her blinds. The window overlooked their bleak orchard where wormy apples clung to skeletal limbs. What a depressing view, she thought, unweaving her braid, twenty acres of gnarled trees running from the road back to the woods.

After Kerry’s grandparents died in a plane crash, her mom and Aunt Julie inherited the place. Everyone thought her grandparents were loaded, which led to wild rumors of a fortune hidden somewhere in the house. Countless searches killed off that dream, and her dad traded the crushed hope of riches for the promise of a tight young ass. Of course, his position as a prominent heart surgeon left him in far better circumstances than Kerry and her mom.

Thinking of her dad made her teeth grind, so she fired up her laptop. While she waited for the programs to load, she glanced out the window over her bed where acres of overgrown vegetable gardens had turned brown from recent frosts. Beyond the