by Amy Ravenel
A loud shriek echoed in his ears. Zack’s head whipped up. The White Lady floated in front of him. Her ethereal beauty filled the room. Her eyes were different this time. Red. Angry. His eyes darted to Kayla. Protect her. Whatever happens, no matter how terrified he was, he had to make sure she was safe. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He stumbled backwards. The ghost grabbed his T-shirt, lifting him off the ground.
Tristan fought against the fear. He wasn’t Zack. He wasn’t going to die. The White Lady. He had to concentrate on her. Who was she? He dropped his mental shield another inch.
Anger. Pain. Confusion. They have to pay. They all have to pay. She held the terrified man in the air, strength and energy coursing through her. He did this. He and the others. Why won’t they die? She had killed this one before. She had killed them all before. They always came back to torment her. Why didn’t they stay dead?
The scene changed.
She ran through the woods, laughing. Twirling in a circle, her heart burst with joy. He was coming, tonight. They were going to run away together and get married. No one would know. She clutched the note in her hand. It wouldn’t be long. He would be there. He never broke his promises.
Tristan dropped his shield a little more. He was so close. If he could hear a name, see a detail, anything. He pushed harder. The vision shifted again. The woods and the girl were gone.
Asshole! His friend was going to wish he had never touched her. He burst into the apartment and took a swing. His fist connected with his friends’ face.
Another change.
She slid under the covers, her skin warm. She was ready for this. Pressing her body against his, her heart fluttered. He tucked her hair behind her ear.
Tristan’s fingers dug into the sheets. The images moved faster, changing from one person to the other. He was losing it. He had to focus, return to The White Lady. Who was who? Which one was she? Tristan slid off the bed and fell to his knees. He grabbed his head. Other images came through. A student worried he wouldn’t pass his final. A woman locked in a passionate embrace. A man punched another one in the face. Someone yelled, and it took Tristan a minute to realize it came from him.
“I can’t! Too much!” His voice was lost in the din of voices, all clambering to be heard. His careful shield crumbled, and everything rushed in at once. A tornado of images and sounds and emotions swirled around him.
“Tristan?” Drew’s voice was faint.
“You!” He gritted his teeth, struggling against the urge to shove Drew against the wall. He fought to hold onto himself. Who was he again? He shut his eyes, willing it all to stop. The voices grew louder as the panic overtook him.
11
McKenna rested her elbows on the table. Luke Connors, the young man sitting across from her, grinned, his white teeth glistening. He believed he was telling the truth with all of his heart. She didn’t detect any deception from him.
“I’m telling you, The White Lady is a woman who killed her husband and then herself and now wants to kill fresh meat.” Luke adjusted his black-framed glasses. His blue-green eyes were as round as saucers. “She uses the apartment as her hunting ground.”
McKenna exchanged a look with Tabitha.
Tabitha smiled reassuringly at Luke. She lifted her camera and snapped a picture of his living room. “If that’s true, Mr. Connors, then why did she wait ten years? And only kill three guys before this?”
“And why hasn’t she killed every man in this building?” McKenna added.
Luke swept his dark brown hair off his forehead. “No one knows. That’s the mystery.”
McKenna sighed. They were getting nowhere. She and Tabitha had spent the rest of the afternoon interviewing the other residents of Hidden Forest. Between the numerous people who closed the door in her face and the different versions of the legend, McKenna was tired of getting no answers.
Luke was the third resident she and Tabitha had spoken to that afternoon, and none of them had shed any new light on the ghost or her origins. The first resident they spoke to, a harried young woman, had said the ghost would sometimes watch her when she brought a date home. The second resident, an older man, said that he had seen the ghost a couple of times, but she never bothered him.
Luke had been more than happy to share his theories the minute McKenna and Tabitha had introduced themselves.
And all of the stories shared two characteristics. She killed, and she didn’t like men. McKenna sighed. That was the problem with urban legends. Everyone told a different version.
“So, you really don’t know who The White Lady is or why she’s here?” Tabitha asked, her spiky hair, streaked red that day, bounced with each movement. She walked around the table, taking a picture from another angle.
“I swear every word I’m telling you is the truth.” Luke held up three fingers in the boy scouts’ honor sign.
“We appreciate you telling us the story.” McKenna smiled. “How did you hear it?”
“From my cousin. She lived here ten years ago, when the other three guys bought it.”
McKenna nodded. “Did she tell you anything about what happened then?”
“Just the story I told you.”
McKenna pressed her lips together. “And where did she hear the story?”
Luke slumped in his chair. “I don’t know. I think her boyfriend at the time told her.”
“Did she have any proof? Pictures or anything?”
“No. Just what she heard.”
McKenna wrote down what he said, adding the legend to others she had heard. People always seemed to latch onto a good ghost story, but none of them knew who The White Lady was or where she came from. She had already gone through all the newspapers she could. No women had died in the building or the woods. A few young women had died or went missing before the building was constructed, but they weren’t connected to the building or the area. Dead ends popped up no matter which way she turned.
“Do you mind if we set up a camera or two in here?” Tabitha asked, bringing McKenna back to the present. “Since you’ve said you’ve seen her.”
Luke shrugged. “Go ahead. I’ll be visiting a friend out of town. I’ll leave a key for you.”
“We appreciate it.” Tabitha shook Luke’s hand. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Connors.” She handed him a card. “If you see or hear anything, just give us a call.”
Luke took the card. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
McKenna followed Tabitha out the door. She rested her back against the wall when Luke’s door closed. “We’re not getting any closer. All we have surrounding this ghost are legends and sightings. We don’t know any more than we did.”
Tabitha tapped her on the shoulder. “I know it’s frustrating. Hopefully, we can get some footage of her. That will give us more details to go on.”
McKenna gestured to Tabitha’s camera. “Anything in the pictures?”
Tabitha flipped through her last few shots. “I need to look at them closer, but so far, nothing.” Lowering the camera, she tapped her temple. “You?”
McKenna shook her head. “Nothing. I can pick up everyone in this building, and with so many people, I can’t tell which one might be a ghost.”
“So, off to meet Tristan now?” Tabitha moved toward the stairs.
McKenna pushed away from the wall. “Absolutely.”
Tabitha nudged her. “What is it about this guy?”
“I don’t know.” McKenna’s cheeks burned. “There’s something vulnerable and mysterious about him. Plus, he’s pretty hot.”
“He is that.”
McKenna placed a foot on the first step. A wave of panic knocked her backwards. She registered Tabitha’s hands steadying her, but the erratic emotion filled every one of her senses. Her breathing picked up as she clutched her chest.
“McKenna?” Tabitha’s voice was far away.
“Someone’s in trouble.” McKenna bolted up the stairs, zeroing in on where the emotion was located. She turned right when she reac
hed the third-floor landing. Skidding to a halt, the panic emanated from the closed door of Zack and Kayla’s apartment. “It’s here.” She walked inside.
“Man, it’s me!” Drew.
“Drew, what’s wrong with him?” Kayla.
Both of them were worried, but the panic didn’t come from them.
McKenna rounded the corner and gasped. Kayla hovered at the end of the hall. Drew was on the floor, scratches on his cheek and blood trickling from his mouth. Tristan stood over him, one hand clutching Drew’s shirt. His other hand was balled into a fist.
“Man, this isn’t you.” Drew wiped his lip.
“You have to pay!” Tristan growled out the words.
“Tristan?” McKenna took a step forward, but Tabitha held her back.
Tristan’s head snapped up, his green eyes wild and unfocused. McKenna swallowed. This wasn’t the guy she planned to have dinner with. This wasn’t the guy she had flirted with last Sunday. He stepped over Drew, advancing on her, Kayla, and Tabitha. She pushed the other two women behind her, her eyes never leaving Tristan. Whatever he was seeing, it wasn’t them. She knew that unfocused look. He was lost in a vision.
Drew grabbed his leg and yanked it out from underneath him. Tristan crashed to the floor. His face contorted in pain as he grabbed his head. When he looked up, his eyes filled with tears.
“She killed him!” he yelled. “She killed him!” He shook his head. “Make it stop!”
McKenna pulled free from Tabitha. She crouched down and touched Tristan’s arm. “What happened?”
Tristan grimaced again. The anger was back in his green eyes. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed. She yelled, a sharp sudden pain shooting up her arm. She tried to yank her arm out of his grasp, but his grip was locked on. Drew reached her in no time. He pried Tristan’s hand off her. McKenna crab walked out of his reach.
“He wanted to try to see what happened to Zack.” Drew held his friend down. “He let too much in. I can’t bring him back.”
“It’s my fault. I asked him to try,” Kayla said.
“What do you mean ‘he wanted to see’?” McKenna kept her eyes on Tristan. His anger turned to fear, and he thrashed against Drew’s hold.
Drew gave an uneven chuckle. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”
“Drew, I don’t think it matters right now. He’s in pain.”
Tristan screamed, his back arching. His eyes met McKenna’s. Even though they weren’t seeing her, they pleaded with her.
Drew swore. “He’s psychic. I think the fancy term is retrocognitive.”
“He can see the past?” Tabitha asked.
“Yeah, but his control is all over the place. If he lets too much in, he loses himself. He becomes the person he’s seeing. And when he opens up like this, he’s more than one person.”
McKenna caressed Tristan’s arm. He flinched. “I think I can help him if you can hold onto him.”
“How?” Kayla dropped to the floor.
“No time to explain, but you can trust me.”
“Are you sure?” Tabitha grabbed one of Tristan’s legs.
“Yes.”
Kayla grabbed the other leg while Drew kept his grip on Tristan’s arms. Tristan thrashed and kicked. He was strong, but they held onto him.
Kayla grunted with effort. “Whatever you’re going to do, do it now.”
McKenna placed her hands on either side of his head. She tuned the other three people out as she looked into Tristan’s unfocused gaze. She sent every peaceful and calming emotion to him she had. It was like shoving against a wall. “Tristan? Can you hear me?”
The wall gave a little. He stopped thrashing as the tension eased out of his muscles.
McKenna kept her voice steady. “Picture a wall. Put the wall up.” She imagined her own shield; how safe it was. She sent that emotion to Tristan. His breathing slowed.
Minute by minute, Tristan’s eyes cleared. His gaze moved from seeing through her to seeing her. McKenna kept her hold. “Tristan?” She continued to call his name over and over.
Tristan blinked. When he didn’t move, Drew, Kayla, and Tabitha let go. He lay on the wooden floor, his breathing ragged. He nudged McKenna’s hands away from his head. “McKenna?” He blinked again.
She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Yeah. Are you okay?” She sat there, too tired to move. She sagged against the nearest wall.
“Yeah.” He sat up. Slumping, his whole body appeared as tired as McKenna felt. He wiped his face with his hands, glaring at Drew. “So much for watching my back, huh?”
“It wasn’t his fault,” McKenna said. “I felt your panic.”
“You felt my panic?” He dropped his head into his hands, not giving her a chance to explain. “You can run away now that you’ve seen the freak show.”
12
He was a failure, plain and simple. All the things he had seen and felt churned in his brain. None of it fit together in any kind of sense. Were any of the people he had seen The White Lady? He had no idea. His focus had been all over the place.
Tristan glanced around the room. His stomach sank when he saw Drew’s split lip and the bruise on McKenna’s wrist. McKenna. She was another puzzle. A psychic like he was, only with better control. How had she pulled him back? When he realized where he was and who he was, her face was the first one he had seen. He wanted the floor to open and swallow him right then and there. Why was she still here? Why were Drew, Kayla, and Tabitha still here? He slouched on the couch in his apartment, dropping his head in his hands.
At least Drew had the common sense to lead Tristan back to his apartment. It was brighter, and no visions plagued him.
“Y’all should just go,” he grumbled.
A glass of water and a plate with a slice of pepperoni pizza appeared on the table in front of him. “You need to eat and drink something,” Kayla said. He raised his head to see the determined expression on her face. A look that said she wasn’t going anywhere.
He obeyed her, lifting his pizza off the plate and biting into it. The tangy sauce made him realize how hungry he was. He wiped a dribble of it off his chin.
“I’m not going anywhere,” McKenna declared. “Besides, I don’t think I can move.” She sat on the other end of the couch curled into a ball. She took her time chewing.
“All right, we have food, we have drink. We have two psychics who are semi-conscious.” Tabitha propped her feet on the coffee table. “Who would like to tell me what’s going on?”
“It was my idea.” Kayla settled on the floor. “I knew Tristan’s control was all over the place, but I pushed anyway. I thought he could see who the ghost was.”
“It’s not your fault.” Tristan tossed back two aspirins. Pain rumbled against his skull. “It was my choice.”
“But I pressured you into it.”
“It doesn’t matter who talked who into what.” Tabitha leveled Tristan with her gaze. “How long have you been psychic? How trained are you?”
Tristan hadn’t expected anybody to be this abrupt about his ability. The corners of his mouth twitched. “Since I was eleven and not very.”
“Hereditary?” McKenna asked as she popped a pepperoni into her mouth.
“It goes from father to son in my family.”
“Only men?”
“Only men.” Tristan took another bite of his slice. Since no one was making a hasty exit, he chose to learn more about McKenna’s power as well. “What about you? How did you do that?” He met her bright blue eyes. She sipped her own glass of water, her face pale. “Pull me out of the vision?”
“Luck, mostly. I’m empathic, I read and send emotions. I sent all the good, relaxed ones I could feel to you.” She ate another pepperoni.
Tristan’s legs shook, rattling the coffee table. “Is yours hereditary, too?”
“It is, but everyone on my mother’s side of the family has a degree of empathy. Couldn’t hide anything from my grandmother. My mother, however, denies her gift.” She dr
opped her eyes and studied the gooey cheese dripping onto her plate.
Tristan let her answer sink in. Denial. He had gone through denial in high school and college. Wanted to get rid of the images that plagued him. But it wouldn’t shut off. It got worse the more he tried to ignore it. “Just the women?”
“No. My brother was empathic, too.”
Tristan let the information hang in the air between them. Had the ghost taken anything from him the way she took Tristan’s strength? He wasn’t sure how to ask that question. He tossed the rest of his water back. “Well, thank you. For what you did.”
“You’re welcome.” McKenna wiped her mouth. “I’m glad it worked.”
He lifted his head. “Me, too.” He sighed. He could sleep for a week if everyone would leave and let him. A drumbeat pounded in his head, and his muscles were like rubber.
What was he thinking, trying to will a vision? He knew he didn’t have the control. It was stupid of him to try, to risk his friends’ wellbeing in the process. He glanced at McKenna again. She had risked her wellbeing to save his sanity. How could he repay that?
“I wish you had told us the plan.” Tabitha stretched her short legs. She polished off her slice. “We could’ve been there from the beginning.” She shot a disappointed look at Drew.
Drew knocked back some of his beer. “I thought we had it under control. I’ve seen him do the whole psychic thing before.”
“Still. You should’ve told us.”
“Wasn’t my secret to tell.”
“He’s right.” McKenna swallowed. “When you first meet people, you don’t lead off with ‘I’m psychic.’ You have to trust them first.”
“It took him a long time to trust me,” Kayla said. Her face was drawn. “Damn it, Tristan. I’m sorry. I didn’t believe Zack when he told me how hard it was for you. I thought you just stared off into space and came back with an answer. I didn’t know how much of a risk it was.” She pushed to her feet. “You should’ve told me.”