by Amy Ravenel
The lights blinked, then went out. The kitchen table shook underneath his hands. He jumped to his feet, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He fumbled with the lock on his door. The knob twisted, but the door stayed closed. Tristan pulled, but it was like it was glued shut. Ice caressed his back. He whirled around.
Her outline appeared first, followed by her whole form. A soft glow accompanied her. The White Lady hovered next to him, an inch or two away. She radiated demur and innocence, but Tristan knew she wasn’t. He had seen her past, experienced her rage when she killed. She floated closer, and he sucked in a breath.
“Who are you?” he whispered. “What do you want?”
She remained silent as she reached out and brushed his arm. The glow brightened when she made contact. Tristan pulled his arm away. He pressed his back to the door. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
“You need me, don’t you? To keep killing?”
She blinked. Her cold hand traced the line of his jaw. His body shook, the cold freezing him inside and out.
“You used Jason the same way, didn’t you?”
No response.
Tristan forced his voice to stay steady. “You won’t get it. I won’t be here tomorrow night. I won’t help you.”
The White Lady smiled. She grabbed his arm, fingernails like chips of ice digging in. Tristan sucked in a breath, gritting his teeth against the pain. Her nails sank into skin, blood pooling up at the marks. Second by second, his muscles doubled in weight while she became more solid. His eyelids fluttered as he breathed heavily. His knees hit the floor. Icy sharp pain stabbed through him. It took all that was left of his strength to look up at her.
“Please don’t do this.”
She put her finger to her lips, quieting him. “It’s not time yet. He will pay.” She let go and vanished.
The lights blinked back on as the room warmed. Tristan lay down on the cool floor and rubbed his arm. He had to stop the bleeding. He had to move. But no energy was left. Fighting with every ounce of what little energy he had left, he crawled to the kitchen. Getting to his feet, he ripped a square of paper towels and pressed it to his wound. Then he dragged himself to his bed and dropped into it.
In the end he lost consciousness.
13
“Tristan, open the door!” McKenna jiggled the knob, her heart in her throat. Pressing her hand against the door, she reached out for him. His emotions were faint, his energy a flicker. She pushed her panic down, searching for a way to get inside. If only she knew how to pick a lock. Should she call the cops? Find out if someone could let her in? She banged on the door once again. “Tristan, please.”
After everything that happened the night before, McKenna had decided to check on him and make sure he was all right. He had been tired and worried when she left him. She had even thought about staying the night, but he told her to go and get some sleep.
She spent most of the morning calling him, but he didn’t answer. No texts, no return calls. After leaving a third message on his voice mail, she started to get anxious. At first, she thought he might be busy. She could understand that. After all, he probably had classes and Zack’s viewing would be that night, followed by the funeral on Saturday. She was busy, too, with the upcoming hunt.
She headed to the college, telling herself she wasn’t pushing. She only wanted to see if he’d like to go to lunch with her. That was all. It took some navigating to find his office, but only one person was there. She glanced up when McKenna walked in.
McKenna smiled. “Hi. I hate to bother you, but have you seen Tristan?”
His officemate returned the smile. “I’m sorry but I haven’t seen him all day,” she said. “He might be in class.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders dropped. “Can you tell him I came by? I’m McKenna.”
“Sure, but you can check with Dr. Cameron down the hall. He might know where Tristan is.”
“Thank you.”
Dr. Cameron was genuinely surprised when McKenna asked him.
“I’m sorry. He wasn’t in class this morning, and he didn’t show up for the class he teaches after that.” He rubbed his stubbly chin. “I asked my secretary to call him, but she said there was no answer.”
McKenna chewed her bottom lip. “Thank you.”
She then found herself at Tristan’s front door, pounding away.
Right when she was about to give up, the lock clicked. The door creaked open and a green eye peered at her. “McKenna? What are you doing here?” He croaked out the question.
Surprise and confusion seeped into her mind. She breathed a sigh of relief. “I tried calling you, and then you weren’t at work. I barely felt your emotions through the door. Are you okay?”
The door opened wider. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. What time is it?” He stepped away and she followed him inside, closing the door behind her.
“It’s one o’clock.”
He whirled around to face her. “What?” Panic blossomed. “Shit! I missed my morning classes.” He fumbled for his phone. “I’ve got to call Dr. Cameron.”
McKenna noticed he wore the same jeans and T-shirt from yesterday. His skin was pale, but color was coming back. When he moved his right arm, she saw five crescent moons above the elbow, dark with dried blood.
“Tristan, what happened to you?” She held his elbow, inspecting the marks.
He studied them, confused. Then it seemed to dawn on him. “She was here.” He blinked and grabbed his head. “No wonder my head hurts again.”
McKenna led him to the couch. “Who was here?”
“The White Lady. She showed up after you left, after…” he paused, his eyes darting around the room. “After that vision.”
“What are you talking about?” She sat next to him, her hand rubbing his back.
He ran a hand over his face. “After you left, I saw your brother. He was scared, packing, trying to leave. She came for him.”
McKenna bit her lip. “You saw it? You saw him die?”
He looked at her. “Yeah, but there’s more.” He touched the hand she rested on his arm. “She took his energy.”
“What?”
“She took his energy. Used it to kill the other guys, I think.” His curls bounced when he shook his head. “I knew she took something from me the night Zack died. My powers were gone afterwards. Came back full force the next day.” He winced. “In fact, they came back full force when I woke up a few minutes ago. Thought you knocking was another vision.”
“You think she took your powers?” McKenna tried to sort all the details out in her head. It didn’t make sense. The ghost took psychic energy. She needed a psychic to exact her revenge? Could ghosts even do that? “How does that even work?”
“I don’t know. All I know is my head is killing me.” He sucked in a breath.
McKenna grabbed a couple of aspirins and a glass of water. She handed both to Tristan. He knocked them back.
“Thanks.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about this earlier?”
“I didn’t think about it. Didn’t think it had anything to do with it. I mentioned it to Drew. And I didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Of course.” McKenna sighed. “Drew wouldn’t betray you.”
“Exactly.”
“Come on.” She held out her hand, gesturing him to take it. “You’ve got to tell the rest of the team. You might be able to draw the ghost out tonight.”
His head snapped up. “No. I won’t be here tonight.” His eyes flashed. “I’m going home.” He walked past her.
McKenna regarded him. “You’re running again?”
“All I’ve done is hurt people. I can’t be here.” He headed into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge.
“Seriously? You can help stop her.” McKenna followed him and leaned against the other side of the counter.
Tristan set the bottle on the counter with a clink. “Exactly. I’m doing that by not being here.” He popped the top.
“You don’t know that. She might still kill without you. For all we know, you’re just an added power boost.” She straightened, her whole body vibrating. “If you draw her out, we can get a fix on her. Maybe talk to her, see what’s holding her here. You’re a guarantee.”
Tristan took a long drink. “You think she’s the chatty type? No, she isn’t. She’ll use me, and she’ll finish her next victim. I won’t help her this time.”
“But, if you just….”
“No.”
“Tristan.”
He leveled her with a glare. His voice dropped an octave. “Just leave me alone.”
She stumbled back as if he had slapped her. Silence passed between them. He couldn’t be serious. She searched his emotions, looked for anything that she recognized. He was going to run, and she couldn’t stop him.
“Fine.” She turned on her heel and walked to the door. “Run away. It’ll make my job so much easier.” She slammed the door behind her, turning her back on him.
With equipment scattered throughout, the Restless Spirits team had transformed the lobby of Hidden Forest into a command center that night. Computer monitors, keyboards, and hard drives covered a folding table resting next to the far-left wall. People could still walk in and out of the doors, but many of them tossed dirty looks towards the equipment.
McKenna scowled at them. “Sorry for ruining your perfect Friday night,” she mumbled.
Tabitha popped her head up from underneath the table. “Are you going to mope all night?”
“No.” McKenna unwrapped another cord. “But I will continue to wallow for the next hour.”
“So, Tristan didn’t want to come help. It’s not a big deal.” Tabitha grabbed the end of the cord and ducked under the desk.
McKenna plugged her end into a monitor. “That’s not the point. He shouldn’t run. He’s a part of this, too.”
“I can’t play the world’s smallest violin for you right now so suck it up.” The monitor flicked to life. “Let Tristan deal with stuff in his own way.”
“Even if he’s being a baby about it?”
“Even if.”
McKenna thought about Tabitha’s words. Her friend was right; she was pushing again. Not every psychic loved their powers. Some of them ran away to deal with it, even if it wasn’t dealing with it at all.
Drew jogged in through the front door, peeling off his tie. Determination replaced his normal good humor. “Everything still in one piece?”
Tabitha crawled out from under the desk. “What are you doing here? Aaron told you to take the night off.”
Drew dropped his tie on the table. “No way. Not when I can help find Zack’s killer. I’m in this, Tabby.” He swallowed. “Seeing his family tonight made me realize I owed them this.”
She tossed her hands in the air. “You and Aaron can work it out.”
“How was the wake?” McKenna asked.
Drew slid into the chair in front of one of the monitors. His fingers flew over the keyboard, and the program he searched for appeared on the screen. “It was okay.” His mood dipped. “Still can’t believe he’s gone.”
“Sounds brutal.” McKenna sat down next to him.
Drew shook off the melancholy. “Not going to think about it. We’ve got to find a ghost tonight.” He unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. “And I’ve got to get out of this suit.” He jumped out of the chair and grabbed the bag he dropped at his feet. He disappeared up the stairs.
“I’ve never seen him like this.” Tabitha started the same program on the other computer. “I hope he’ll be okay. He’s really close to this case.”
McKenna nodded. “I think he will be. At least he’s not running from it.”
Tabitha rolled her eyes and picked up her walkie-talkie. “Ready when you are, Aaron.”
The small screen in the top right corner of both monitors went from blank gray to a black and white living room. McKenna recognized it as Kayla and Zack’s apartment.
“How does it look?” Aaron’s tinny voice asked.
“Looks good.”
Tabitha set the walkie-talkie down. “You keep an eye on the monitors, okay. And stop worrying about Tristan.” She hoisted a camera under her arm and headed up the stairs to another apartment.
McKenna sighed. Tabitha was right. She had more important things to worry about than Tristan. If he was going to hide in his parents’ basement again, then she would let him. The team didn’t need him to find and stop this ghost.
Sadly, they weren’t any closer to discovering out who The White Lady was. McKenna had spent most of the day searching through a list of missing women from twenty to ten years ago. No one from the apartment had gone missing, but several women had disappeared from the campus between the late nineties and the early two thousands. She had planned to show Tristan the pictures she collected, but the idea had flown out of her head during the argument. She grimaced at the thought. Because of that slip-up, the team was going in blind. Another thing she could blame on Tristan.
Another room appeared on the computer screen.
“How’s the angle?” Drew’s voice crackled through the walkie-talkie.
“Move it a little to the left.” The room inched across. “Perfect!”
McKenna glanced around the empty lobby. The sun had gone down long ago, and several people were settled in for the night. Others had gone out, and she hoped they wouldn’t come back drunk and stumble into the equipment. Drew might never recover if that happened.
More rooms appeared on the monitor screens, and McKenna approved each one as they were placed at the correct angle. Once finished, the rest of the team joined her at the command center.
Aaron cleared his throat. “All right, gang, we have more area to cover than usual, but we’re sticking to our protocol. Two people here with the equipment, keeping an eye on things. Two people investigating the apartments we’ve been approved to investigate.” He propped his foot in one of the empty chairs. “I want to start in Zack and Kayla’s apartment. McKenna, you and Tabitha are heading out first. Tell me if you feel anything that might identify our spook.”
McKenna collected one of the walkie-talkies. “You’ll be the first to know.” She pushed Tristan and their fight to the back of her mind.
“Sounds like a plan,” Tabitha agreed.
“Remember, we’re not only looking for The White Lady, but also looking for the reason she’s still here. I want y’all to be on alert.” Aaron sized up his team. He dropped into the chair and crossed his arms. “Okay, people, let’s do this!”
McKenna stilled, feeling for something in the dark. The quiet and the solitude surrounded her. Anticipation and determination resided in the apartment to her left. Happiness reached in from the apartment downstairs. Living emotions, all of them.
Picking up emotional energy from a ghost was next to impossible. Most of the ones she had come across were created from residual energy. No soul was there, only the imprint of who had been there. Those kinds had no emotions. But ghosts who were aware had traces of emotion swirling around them. The preacher they had recently laid to rest was full of burning anger. It was hot, like a living person’s. It had felt like a fire inside McKenna’s heart. She reached for that same feeling.
She situated herself on the couch, keeping the front door in her sights. Her mental shields remained in place, letting in one emotion at a time. She couldn’t lower it all the way because the emotions of the other tenants would bombard her. However, she scanned for intense, dark feelings.
A small tape recorder rested in her right hand, the record light glowing in the dark. “Hello,” she said into the darkness. “Are you here?”
No answer.
“We’re not here to hurt you. We just want to know who you are and why you’re here.” That’s right, Mac. Keep it nice and even.
Nothing.
She shifted her position. “What happened to you? Did the man who used to live here do something to you?” Did my brother? she thought.
No trace of emotion or a presence.
“Are you mad all of these people live in your building?”
McKenna sighed when there was still no response. She wasn’t surprised. Many of the investigations Restless Spirits had conducted turned out to have no results at all. The team spent those nights sitting in the quiet dark with not one glimmer of ghostly activity. Going through the footage later was long and tedious. Investigating the paranormal required patience, and there were times when McKenna had none. She shifted again. It was turning into one of those nights.
The cushions in the chair next to her rustled. “Don’t worry. It’s only me.” Tabitha’s reassuring voice floated out of the dark. The bluish glow of the street lamp outside bounced off her outline.
“Nothing in the bedroom?” McKenna asked.
“I didn’t expect there to be. She’s already finished in this apartment. She probably won’t come back to it.” She tapped the recorder. “Any luck here?”
“I haven’t heard anything, nor have I sensed anything.” McKenna stretched her legs out in front of her. “Hopefully, the recorder picked up something.”
“Maybe I should give it a try.”
McKenna laughed. “Are you going to ask your usual questions?”
“Well, yeah. My questions are interesting.” Tabitha cleared her throat. “Why white? Why not add some color to your wardrobe?”
McKenna sighed. “What does that prove?”
“What kind of taste this ghost has. Obviously, the whole white look washes her out.” Her laugh echoed off the walls.
McKenna rolled her eyes. “Sure, I’ll give it to you.” Even though she couldn’t hear anything, she knew the tape recorder might pick up an electronic voice phenomenon, or EVP for short. Sometimes, a ghostly voice used a different frequency than the rest of the world. She handed the tape recorder to Tabitha.
“Mac, how are you doing? Really?” Tabitha’s concern came through loud and clear. “Still worrying about Tristan?”
“I’m okay.” McKenna studied the door. “This isn’t about him anymore. He can do what he wants to do. Besides, I need to focus on this ghost. I don’t want her to kill another person like she did Jason and those other guys. If she, in fact, did it.”