Read Online Beyond the Grave by Mara Purnhagen - Free Book Online

face in my hair. “I need you for other things.”
    I laughed. “A new car would be great. As long as you don’t drive out to the old prison.”
    Noah froze. “What are you talking about?” He pulled away so he could look me in the eyes. “Why would I go back to the prison?”
    â€œIt’s something Shane said.” I told him about Pate’s potential lawsuit and how Pate was claiming he’d spotted the van and that someone had damaged the interior of the prison.
    â€œI don’t know how he can say that the inside was damaged,” I said. “It was pretty bad to begin with. But he thinks one of us is behind it.” I nudged him. “So where were you on Saturday night?” I asked jokingly.
    But Noah didn’t respond right away. “I don’t know,” he said softly. He pulled away from me even more and ran a handthrough his hair. “I mean, I was at home, but I woke up at three in the morning. I was standing in the living room.”
    â€œYou were sleepwalking? Has that ever happened before?”
    â€œNo, not that I remember.” He looked down at the ground. “I keep waking up feeling exhausted, like I haven’t slept at all.”
    I felt a rush of concern and placed my hand on his arm. “When did this start happening?”
    â€œA few nights after…you know.”
    Noah and I never talked about the night we were attacked. We saw the same things: my dad thrown across the room, my mother struck on the head so hard she nearly died. He had tried to help, but the thing that called itself the Watcher had grabbed Noah by the throat and lifted him from the floor.
    The permanent bruise, the sleepwalking—what had the Watcher done to Noah? Again, I made myself stop. A little sleepwalking wasn’t a catastrophe. His interrupted rest was probably the result of stress, not demonic possession. I was looking for problems that didn’t exist. In fact, I decided, the only real problem was me. The past year had been crazy. Maybe I’d gotten used to drama. Maybe my instincts were not as sharp because I had seen too much.
    â€œWhat can I do to help?” I asked.
    â€œI don’t know.” He wrapped his arms around me. “Just stay here with me for a little while.”
    We listened to the birds and the distant traffic. I put my ear to his chest so I could hear his heart beating. I wondered if my heart was thumping in time to his. It felt like it.
    â€œAny more panic attacks?” he asked, breaking the comfortable silence.
    â€œNot since the prison.” I sighed. “Pate was so rattled. He was sure I’d caused something to happen.”
    Noah squeezed me. “It wasn’t your fault.”
    â€œWhat if he was right? I’ve caused other things to happen.”
    Noah turned toward me. “None of it was your fault. You didn’t choose it.”
    That was true, but it didn’t mean much. I might not have chosen what had happened to my family, but it had still happened because of me. I could not escape that one terrible, simple truth. I didn’t contradict Noah, though. We’d had this discussion before, and I knew he worried about me. I didn’t want to add to that worry, so I stayed quiet and enjoyed our moment together.
    â€œI’m sorry about earlier,” he said.
    â€œEarlier?”
    â€œThe guy at school. I shouldn’t have let him get to me.”
    â€œNo, you shouldn’t have.”
    There was no excuse for his sudden aggression. But this was Noah. He was allowed to make a mistake. I didn’t want to dwell on his odd outburst. He was sorry, and that’s what mattered most.
    â€œWe have to get back soon,” I murmured. “Everyone’s waiting for us.”
    â€œLet them wait.” Noah kissed me softly. “There are more important things.”
    Â 
    T HERE WERE MORE important things. And the most important one was to help my mom. That