by Amy Ravenel
“It’s okay.” He nodded to her. “Like I said, it was my choice.”
Kayla scowled as she found a small towel in one of the kitchen drawers. She dug around in the cabinets until she found some cleaning solution. Armed with both, she went to work on the kitchen counters.
“Were you able to get any answers?” McKenna asked.
Tristan looked at all four expectant faces. Rubbing his hands on his jeans, he wanted to be anywhere but there. “I saw a lot of different things, and I still haven’t sorted all of it out yet. I saw Zack. Kayla told the truth there, but we knew she was. As for The White Lady, it seemed like she remembered killing all of the victims, but to her, it was the same person or people.” He drew his brows together. “I don’t know which.”
Tabitha’s eyes widened as she leaned forward. “You read the past off a spirit’s energy?”
“Yeah. Didn’t think I could do it, but she is energy, I guess. That’s what I pick up from buildings and people.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Why?”
“It’s rare. I think I’ve only heard of one other person who could do that.”
“Who?” Drew asked.
“A guy my grandfather worked with, back when he started the Greene Institute. Daniel Johnson, I think.” She took a bite out of her slice of pizza. “Any relation?”
Tristan’s mouth quirked. “I’m not surprised. Daniel is my grandfather.”
Tabitha settled back into her chair. “I heard he was really good.”
“Which explains why he was always disappointed in me.” Tristan stood and wobbled for a few seconds before finding his balance. He grabbed another slice of pizza.
“Anyway, how can a ghost keep thinking she’s killing someone over and over?” Kayla brought the conversation back to the original topic. Her hand flew over the front counter, scrubbing out coffee stains.
“Sounds possible. From what I understand, ghosts have a different perception than we do. If they’re the conscious kind, they don’t realize time has passed,” Tabitha polished off her slice and set the plate on the coffee table. She leaned back, soda propped in her hand.
“More than likely, all four looked like someone she knew. Possibly the man who killed her.” McKenna wrapped her blanket closer around her.
“But all four guys don’t look alike. Isn’t that what you told me, Tristan?” Drew set his beer on the coffee table.
McKenna jerked, wincing when she moved too fast. “No, all four don’t look alike, but Zack and Jason both had blond hair and tall, lean frames. I think some of their features were the same, but I’d have to go back and look.”
“Didn’t Keith have dark hair, and dark eyes?” Tristan rubbed his stubbly chin.
“And Cory had wavy blondish-brown hair.” McKenna fell back into the cushions. “I’ll study the pictures closer tomorrow.”
Drew groaned. “Tristan, did you see anything else?”
Tristan tried to recall more images. Most of them were snippets of memory. “Some guy punching his friend. A woman about to lose her virginity. And a girl running through the woods. She was going to meet somebody there.”
Tabitha arched an eyebrow. “A girl running through the woods? That doesn’t match the apartment.”
“I know. I usually pick up things that happened in the room I’m in, so I don’t know where that one came from.”
“Maybe it was from before the apartment was built,” Drew suggested.
“Still doesn’t make any sense.” Tristan sank into the couch, his head lolling to the side. “I’m sorry I’m not much help.” If they would only let him sleep, his focus would be better.
“Don’t apologize. You were brave to try.” McKenna nudged his leg with her toe. “Maybe we can try it together when you get your strength back?”
Panic squeezed his chest. “No!” He shook his head. “No. I won’t do it again.”
“But if I’m there…”
The mere thought terrified him. “No. Something worse than bruises could happen. I can’t.”
McKenna sighed. “You might not pick up anything violent.”
“I don’t care. Something violent always comes through. That’s the strongest energy. I won’t hurt you again.”
Tabitha stood and stretched. Picking up her camera, she flipped through some of the pictures. “Maybe I caught something today, and we’ll have something more to go on. Drew, you have your laptop. Can you bring these pictures up?”
“Sure.” Drew pushed to his feet. “You guys want to see the pictures?”
McKenna chuckled. “I don’t think I can move.”
“I’m going to stay right here.” Tristan finished off his water.
Kayla climbed to her feet. “I’d like to know what you’re looking for.”
“Okay.” Drew searched the area where he sat, and his face fell. “Kayla, I left it in your apartment.”
“Come on, let’s go get it.”
When Drew, Kayla, and Tabitha left, silence filled the room. Tristan studied the ceiling. His arms and legs were heavy, as if he had lifted more than his weight. He rolled his head to the side. McKenna burrowed into her corner, her eyes closed. For a moment, he thought she was asleep.
She opened her eyes. “What happened the first time you realized you were psychic?”
Tristan smiled at the question. At least she wasn’t pressuring him to try again. “I was in class. The teacher was droning on about something…I don’t remember. I started seeing people fade in and out in the room, and then the room changed completely. I must have freaked out because when the vision ended, I was on the floor and the teacher was standing over me. Drew held everybody back as best he could.”
“Did you know it was coming?”
“I did, but I didn’t think about it. I knew my grandpa could see the past. He loved to read family members at Christmas time, dredging out all their past secrets. I also knew my dad could see the present. Couldn’t lose a thing in our house. And I know they told me it was coming, but I guess I didn’t believe them.” He sipped his water. “You?”
McKenna chuckled. “I was ten and thought I was having the worst mood swings ever. My mother didn’t tell me a thing, and I guess Jason didn’t think to mention it. One minute I was happy, the next I was crying. The guidance counselor thought I was crazy.
“Jason was the one who picked me up from school. He was sixteen at the time. He explained everything and tried to teach me as much as he could. We went to Grandma’s house that following weekend. You know, she used to work for the Greene Institute back in the sixties, too. Maybe she crossed paths with your grandpa.”
Tristan nodded. “Maybe. I’ll have to ask.”
McKenna cocked her head. “So, why didn’t anyone teach you to control your ability?” Curiosity laced her tone.
The question cut through him. “It’s my fault. My dad and my grandpa both tried, but I wouldn’t listen. I didn’t want this thing in my head. I learned how to shield and how to deal with the bits of the past that leaked in, but full on using it? No way. I didn’t want to have anything to do with that.”
He glanced at McKenna to see what her reaction was. Would she lecture him? Would she tell him how the whole empathy thing came naturally for her?
She let the silence hang there for a moment until she spoke. “I don’t blame you. It wasn’t easy for me either.” She caressed the back of his hand.
He twisted his empty glass in circles. A small bit of condensation formed on the table’s wood. “Really?”
McKenna chuckled. “Oh, yeah. It took several lessons with Jason and with Grandma until I was no longer an emotional mess.”
“And your mother stayed as far away from it as she could?”
“I think my mom cut herself off from all emotions. She blocks her own, and she blocks the others. I don’t know how she does it. I know she loves me, and she fell apart when Jason died, but she doesn’t show affection.”
He felt for her. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ve de
alt with it.”
“I know, but I felt like I needed to say it.” He indicated her empty glass. “Want some more water?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Tristan took her cup and tensed with every step to the sink. His muscles still ached from fighting against Drew’s hold.
“Was today the first time you tried to see the past in a while?” McKenna asked.
Tristan held the glass under the running water. The rushing sound gave him a couple of seconds to gather his thoughts. He hadn’t shared the whole story with anyone in a year. He cut off the water. “No. I tried a year ago for my cousin Karie.” He handed the water to McKenna. “She wanted to buy an old house and wanted me to get a feel for it. Tell her if anything bad had happened in it.”
“What happened?”
He sighed as he sat down. He pushed his cup around the coffee table, avoiding her eyes. “Last year, I was teaching in Wilmington. My cousin lived out there near me, and she knew about the family secret.” He let go of the glass. “Anyway, she invited me along to check out this house she was thinking about buying. Halfway there, she told me she wanted to know its whole history. I told her no, but she talked me into it. After all, she’s family.” He paused, the memory flashing into his mind. He tightened his jaw.
“Is she okay?” McKenna’s quiet voice filtered through.
Tristan nodded. “Yeah, she’s okay. I…I went to her place and tried to see. She stayed in the room with me.” He looked up and saw soft blue eyes watching him. “It was an old house, and a lot of stuff happened there. I saw it all. Everything. And I felt it, too. Like I did here. And then, it happened.”
McKenna sat straighter. “What happened?”
“Somebody from the past with a strong personality shoved through. I saw a man beating a woman, and I could feel his hate for her. It was a massive, twisted, ugly thing. All that rage built up inside of me. All of it was from his point of view. I got lost in it. It was like I wasn’t me anymore. I was him.”
“How did you snap out of it?”
“I don’t know. Karie was screaming my name. Somehow, I heard her. At some point I grabbed a wooden board lying in the middle of the living room, but I didn’t touch her, thank God. But she fell and broke her leg while trying to get away from me. She was terrified of me. I was terrified of me.” His heart broke as he recalled her lying on the floor, fear in her eyes. Fear he had put there. “I moved away and hid out in my parents’ house. I couldn’t face it.” A lump lodged in his throat. “What if I lost it in my classroom? What if I hurt one of my students?”
“Tristan, no wonder you keep a tight lid on it. I channel emotions, and I’ve never had that happen to me.” She scooted closer to him and wrapped her arms around him. He leaned into her. “I’m sorry.”
“Like you said, I dealt with it.”
Her lean body fit perfectly in his embrace. Tristan buried his face in her soft hair, the clean, salty scent of the ocean surrounding him. He pulled her closer. He should push her away, tell her it wasn’t safe to be around him. But McKenna hadn’t turned away. She had seen the worst of it, but her eyes never reflected the same fear. She tightened her hold on him, and he didn’t want her to let go.
It was past nine o’clock when McKenna entered her apartment. She tossed her keys on the table and pressed her back against the door. The memory of Tristan’s melancholy, everyone else’s concern, and her own fear churned inside of her. Her body shuddered, and the dam broke. Tears streamed down her face. Wiping at them, she collapsed into the nearest chair.
A meow caught her attention. “Hey, Oscar.” A large gray and white cat hopped into her lap. She petted him as he curled up. His soft fur helped to chase away the stress. “It’s good to see you, too.” He meowed again as he rubbed against her palm. “It’s been a long day, buddy.”
Tristan’s wild eyes and erratic behavior haunted her memory. What if she hadn’t been able to pull him out of it? What if he was lost in his own mind forever? She swallowed down the fear. He was okay. He was safe for now, but his ability was dangerous. No wonder he didn’t want to use it or tell anyone about it.
But he had tried for a friend. He knew what might happen, and yet, he wanted to help. Her heart swelled at the fact Tristan had been willing to take the risk.
She rubbed her arms, remembering his embrace. He trusted her with every fiber of his being. Did she fully trust him? She had seen the worst of him, and she hadn’t run. But she had thought about it. She had wanted to grab Drew, Kayla, and Tabitha, shut the door behind them, and run. But his panic had been too strong. No, leaving him was out of the question.
Picking up the heavy, soft cat, she made her way to the bedroom. She changed into her pajamas and crawled under the covers. Oscar’s rhythmic purr was the only sound in the quiet room. He lay down beside her, a warm, furry body.
McKenna wasn’t sure what to make of Tristan. He intrigued her. That much was for sure. She wanted to be near him, to know more about him. After all, he was the first guy not related to her who comprehended what it was like to be psychic. As she understood it, she was the same for him.
But she saw what happened to him if he let too much in. He must be exhausted trying to hold it together all the time. He needed training, more training than he had. She didn’t blame his father, but she did blame Tristan. A gift that powerful deserved respect, and Tristan had spent most of his life not respecting it. She had to convince him he needed to learn to control it. Maybe she could be the one to help him. She wanted to be.
She smiled as she remembered her own early training sessions with her grandmother. Grandma was like a drill sergeant, making sure McKenna knew exactly what she possessed and how to use it. She didn’t want the empathy to drive McKenna or Jason mad. Nor did she want them to sever all their emotions and live in a shell like their mother did.
McKenna was terrified of going crazy. She didn’t even want to entertain the idea of getting lost in a sea of emotions. Maybe that was why she didn’t understand how Tristan could hide and do nothing. Yes, she had to help him. There was no choice.
She clicked off the lamplight and burrowed under the covers. There was more to Tristan than his powers. He made her heart flutter every time he walked into the room. She always found an excuse to touch him or talk to him. No, her reasons for wanting to help him weren’t completely selfless.
With thoughts of Tristan dancing in her head, McKenna drifted off to sleep.
Alone. Finally. Tristan leaned against his front door, taking in the silence. He wasn’t sure he had the energy to keep up anymore. He sauntered away from the door, his hand reaching for the light switch. His mental shields shook. They weren’t rebuilt yet, and a vision slid in.
He tossed clothes into an open suitcase. He had to get out of the apartment. He had to get out now before anyone else died.
Dead. Two people were dead. His heart thundered in his chest. My fault. All of this is my fault. Two guys he didn’t know were dead. Their bodies had crashed to the ground. Their eyes left wide open, staring at nothing.
She had come on the same night for the past two weeks. She would come that night. He felt it in his bones.
He had seen her both times before they died. Felt the icy kiss of her breath. Had all the energy yanked out of him against his will. She needed him to kill. He had figured out that much. How many more would die because of him? Well, no more. He intended to be out of the apartment this time before she showed.
He pulled open more drawers and threw more clothes into the suitcase. She couldn’t follow him home, could she? His breath stopped when he thought about his baby sister. Would the ghost take her energy, too? She didn’t have the control yet; she would be a sitting duck. Out. He had to get out.
Cold air swirled around him. Keep moving. Keep moving. The lights flickered and went out. Her ghostly glow cast the only light in the room. He raised his head to see her eerie green eyes.
Pounding on the door. “Jace, my key’s not working. Can you let me in?”
>
Justin! He had to keep his roommate away. What if he was next? He wouldn’t let her kill him. Jason picked up a chair and held it between them.
“No. I’m done.” He took a step back. “You can’t have anymore.”
She knocked the chair out of his hand as if it weighed no more than a feather. “You have to pay,” she hissed. She advanced on him.
More knocking. “Jason? You okay, man?”
His eyes were glued to her face. Fear planted his feet to the floor. The wind moved faster around him, cold and bitter. He closed his eyes. “Justin, please go away.”
The pounding was harder. “Jason, open the door!”
He opened his eyes, kept his gaze steady.
The White Lady lifted her hand. The front door swung open. Justin stumbled inside, his dark silhouette blocking out the hallway light.
Jason grit his teeth. “Get away from me! You can’t have it! No more!”
She gripped him by the shirt. His feet left the ground. She cocked her head to the side. “You’re the last one. You have to pay.” His back crashed through the window.
Tristan blinked. The room around him returned to normal. Sweat ran down his back. It beaded his brow and stuck his curls to his forehead and neck. He gripped the back of a kitchen chair for balance. Raking his hair back, he took one breath, and then another, trying to return his thumping heart to normal.
The man’s words ran through his head. “No more.”
What had he seen? He concentrated on any information he could remember. Jason. He had seen Jason, McKenna’s brother. His brow furrowed as he tried to recapture the details. The White Lady had visited Jason before every death, like she had visited Tristan before Zack’s. Each visit had left Jason tired. He had tried to get away before she came back, but she said he was the last one. Worry knotted in his stomach. The last one. Oh, God. Did that mean he was the last one, too?
Dropping into the chair, he noticed how cold the room was. He shivered. A frigid room meant one thing. The White Lady was coming. He swore. Jason was empathic, like his sister. The White Lady must have used his psychic energy to kill. He swallowed. Had she used his own energy to kill Zack?