White Spirit

by Amy Ravenel

  “Did Jason ever talk about seeing a ghost in his apartment?”

  “If he did, he didn’t tell me.” McKenna sank into the pillows. She then closed her eyes when she remembered what Tristan had told her. “Crap.”

  “What?” The couch squeaked.

  She told Tabitha all about Tristan’s vision, how Jason had not only seen the ghost, but may have been an unwilling partner. How The White Lady might be using Tristan the same way.

  “No wonder you wanted him here. Why didn’t you tell us?”

  McKenna shook her head. “I forgot. I was so focused on his reaction.” She swept her hair off her shoulders, tying it all up into a knot, and letting it fall back down. She drummed her fingers on her knee. “I wish The White Lady would show up. I’d like to see her for myself.”

  “I wouldn’t mind it, either,” Tabitha answered. “But the legend says only men see her. Maybe we can’t see her.”

  “Kayla saw her, remember? Told her she was free.”

  A chill ran across McKenna’s arms, raising goosebumps on the skin. A flash of cold anger shoved past her shields. She straightened, grabbing the feeling and holding onto it. Something feather-light brushed her cheek.

  “You can’t save him,” a female voice whispered in her ear. “He will pay.”

  McKenna jumped. She turned to her left, but no one was there. “Who? Who will pay?”

  No one answered. The cold anger disappeared, and the chill was gone. McKenna wrapped her arms around herself. Her whole body shook. She couldn’t seem to get warm again.

  “Mac? Are you okay?” Tabitha’s warm hand touched her shoulder.

  “She’s here.”

  “Where?” The couch groaned. Tabitha’s silhouette crouched in front of McKenna.

  “Beside me.” McKenna mentally searched for the icy anger, but it was no longer there. “She’s gone. You didn’t hear her? Feel her?”

  “Mac, I didn’t hear or feel anything.”

  McKenna searched the room, hoping The White Lady left something behind. It was as dark and as quiet as it was before. “It felt like she was looking for something. She said, ‘You can’t save him. He will pay.’” McKenna took a deep breath, her heart racing in her chest. “It’s so cold.”

  Tabitha draped a large afghan over McKenna’s shoulders.

  “Let’s get you back to the lobby.”

  14

  The all-night diner was practically empty with a few people scattered throughout. Pop music played over the speakers, and the salty smell of French fries filled the air. Tristan stretched out in the corner booth, his jacket and tie lying next to him. The sweet taste of homemade strawberry ice cream lingered long after his last bite.

  Across the table from him, Kayla pulled her fork out of her mouth, a look of delight on her face. She swallowed her last bite and opened her eyes. “Thank you for this idea, Tristan.” She pointed her fork at him. “I needed to get out of that place and away from everybody.”

  “I thought you might need to.” His head fell back, all the tension draining out of his muscles.

  Zack’s viewing had taken plenty out of him. Seeing pictures of his best friend alive, smiling, and happy had almost done him in. It had been one thing to see Zack die, but the idea he may have helped scared Tristan to death.

  Kayla had taken the whole evening worse than he did, though. She stood stoically beside Zack’s parents in the line, greeting and thanking people for coming. Zack’s mother hardly glanced her way the whole time. He and Drew had taken turns bringing her food and drink, but when Kayla begged him to get her out of there, he had done so without a second thought.

  Kayla sighed. “The vanilla ice cream was always Zack’s favorite.” Her expression clouded over. Tears swam into her eyes. “I miss him so much, Tris.” Her breath hitched.

  “I know.” He rubbed her arm. “I miss him, too.”

  Kayla wiped her eyes. “Distract me. Talk to me about anything but the ghost or the funeral. How are things going with Drew’s coworker? What’s her name? McKenna, right?”

  Tristan arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Nothing’s going on.”

  One corner of Kayla’s mouth turned up. “I’m not blind, Tristan. I saw how the two of you looked at each other last night. Now, spill.”

  “Shouldn’t we focus on you?”

  “No.” Kayla shook her head. “I’m tired of being sad, tired of dealing with condolences, tired of being useless. Tell me something happy.”

  His forked clinked a steady rhythm on the side of the empty bowl. “There’s nothing to tell. I helped her with some research, and she pulled me out of my own head. That’s it.”

  “That’s it, huh?” Kayla cocked her head to the side, her mouth an even line.

  “Yeah.” Tristan studied the artwork above her head. A stack of strawberry pancakes floated in pink-tinted space, stars decorating it.

  “Tristan, I’ve known you for seven years now. You really like her, don’t you?”

  He met her eyes. He pictured McKenna, her dark hair falling down her back, her big blue eyes watching him. His lips turned upward. “Maybe a little.” He groaned. “But it won’t work. I’m too unstable, and she wants too much.”

  Kayla chuckled. “You’ve known her for a week. What’s too much in your book?”

  Tristan gave her an edited version of their earlier argument, leaving out the part where the ghost may have used his energy to kill Zack. “She wanted me to help with the investigation tonight, and I told her no.”

  “Why would you do that?” Kayla’s eyebrows shot up.

  “You saw me last night.”

  “Yeah, and I also saw her pull you out of it. You two make a great team.”

  Tristan slumped. “It won’t work.”

  Kayla threw her hands into the air. “Tristan, you’re an idiot, you know that?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m going to my parents’ house tonight. I want to be as far away from this as possible.”

  “Ah.” Kayla sat back, her arms crossed over her chest. “So, it’s Wilmington all over again.”

  “It’s not…”

  “It is. You lose control, and then you run away. You need to learn to embrace who you are and deal with it.” She pointed her spoon at him. “Apologize to her tonight, before you leave. Zack would be really disappointed in you if you didn’t.”

  Tristan’s mouth fell open. “What?”

  “Do you know how your friends took your running away the last time? Both Zack and Drew worried about you, especially when you wouldn’t call or email or even see them. I’d never seen Zack look so lost. You were his best friend, and he couldn’t even reach you. Neither one of them gave up on you. You can’t give up on yourself.” She narrowed her eyes. “What are you going to do? Hide in your parents’ basement for the rest of your life? You have friends who care about you, and you’ve met a woman who understands you. Don’t let that slip away.” Her breath hitched. “People you love can be taken away from you at the blink of an eye.”

  Her words rang in his ears. She was right. McKenna was right. He was running again. He sipped his coffee without giving Kayla an answer.

  “Well?” she prompted.

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  Kayla rolled her eyes. “Stop being stupid, Tristan. Go talk to her.”

  Black and white images held steady in every corner of the monitor McKenna watched. The dust settled on the furniture in the room, but no ghosts appeared. Two hours in, and McKenna only had the one personal experience. Was The White Lady biding her time? McKenna still heard the ghost’s warning in her ears. Who couldn’t she save? Who was The White Lady’s next target?

  McKenna nudged Aaron. He looked up from his monitor and pulled one of his headphones away from his ear. “See anything yet?” she asked.

  “Nothing. Feel anything yet?”

  “Only the annoyance of the people walking by.” She climbed to her feet and stretched, pulling off her own headphones. “Want something to drink?�
��

  “Grab me a Pepsi, will you?” Aaron situated the headphones back over his ears.

  McKenna started to turn away when an angry older man with salt and pepper short hair wearing a flannel shirt and black pants stalked over to their table. He glared daggers at Aaron.

  “You call this subtle?” he demanded.

  Aaron pulled off his headphones. “Mr. Martin, I didn’t expect you to be here.”

  “I got a call from one of my tenants, telling me a crazy group of people had equipment all over the lobby.” Martin clenched his teeth. The heat and force of his anger rolled over McKenna like a wave. It knocked her breath from her lungs. “We had an agreement, Mr. Lawson.”

  Aaron stood, his height putting him several inches taller than Martin. His hands were on his hips, making him appear bigger. “With all due respect, sir, you said we were free to set up anywhere in the lobby as long as our equipment didn’t block the doors.” He kept his voice controlled as he indicated how all the wires were behind the table and the table was well away from the doors. “As you can see, we did that.”

  A chill swept through the air. The monitors blinked off and then back on. Martin shivered, taking a step back from the table. He and Aaron glanced around the lobby.

  McKenna recognized the moment of icy anger that came with the dip in temperature. She studied the extra electromagnetic field reader resting on the table. The numbers jumped before returning to normal.

  “Mac?” Aaron asked.

  She tried to hold onto The White Lady’s emotion, but it slipped through her fingers. Animosity replaced it, filling her up. “It could’ve been her, but I can’t feel anything except you two right now.”

  “Wrap up this investigation. Quickly.” Martin’s voice lacked the conviction it held earlier. A spike of fear joined his anger.

  Aaron’s fists tightened. “Yes, sir.”

  Satisfied, Martin sailed past them and climbed the stairs. “Let’s see if I can fix the damage you’ve caused.”

  “Weird.” McKenna set a can of Pepsi in front of Aaron.

  “What?”

  “The mere possibility of the ghost terrified him.” She slid into her seat.

  “Think he knows more than he’s told us?” Aaron sat next to her, his eyes on the stairs.

  “I don’t know, but he’s definitely hiding something.”

  A half an hour later, darkness and silence surrounded her once again. McKenna clutched her flashlight as she crept through the second apartment of the night – Tristan’s apartment. Her empathy was on high alert, but all she picked up was the calm of the tenants below them. No flashes of anger and no cold patience. All was quiet.

  Drew’s footsteps echoed behind her. He muttered as he watched the screen on the small infrared camera he held. If there were a fluctuation in temperature or if he saw a shape he didn’t recognize, he would let her know. So far, nothing out of the ordinary had appeared.

  McKenna clicked on her walkie-talkie. “Aaron, do you or Tabitha see or hear anything?”

  “A whole lot of nothing,” Aaron’s tinny voice responded.

  “You’d think she’d have made her move by now,” Drew said, his voice hard. “Maybe killing my best friend was enough for her.” His hate caught her by surprise.

  “You’ve been hostile during this whole investigation. Maybe you should take another turn at the command center.”

  Drew sighed, his mood calming. “I’m sorry. The wake and everything messed with me.”

  McKenna faced him. “You haven’t said much to anyone this whole week. How are you doing, really?”

  “You want to have this conversation now?”

  She pointed the flashlight at him, avoiding his eyes. The dress shirt was untucked, and his hair was pushed under his baseball cap. Stubble covered his chin. “Maybe talking about it will draw her out.”

  “He was one of my best friends, Mac. Zack was the steady one, the one that held us all together. He’d hold me back from fights and keep Tristan grounded so he wouldn’t lose his mind. I’ve never seen anyone have that much patience and respect for people.” He set the camera down on a nearby table. He directed his speech to the room. “If you had to kill somebody, why Zack? What the hell did he do to you, anyway?”

  “You know she didn’t do it because it was Zack. She thought he was someone else, remember?”

  His jaw twitched. “Yeah, I remember.” He raised his voice to the walls again. “You still didn’t have to kill him.”

  A frosty breeze brushed McKenna’s arm. She looked at the detector again. One point six. Her fingers dug into the arm of a nearby chair. It was an effort to keep her breathing steady.

  “Are you standing next to me?” Closing her eyes, McKenna concentrated on the emotions around her. Curiosity and anger answered her, the same mix she felt earlier in the night. Her eyes flew open. “She’s here.” Frustration blended with the other emotions. “I think she’s trying to get to her target but can’t.”

  “Who is her target?” Drew picked up the camera and aimed it in McKenna’s direction. “Mac, a faint signature is standing next to you.”

  McKenna swallowed. She fought the urge to run. Her body trembled under the effort of keeping still.

  “Who are you looking for?” she asked the ghost.

  A cold touch rested against McKenna’s cheek and she jerked away. She tripped over a chair, slamming onto the hardwood floor. Rubbing her aching backside, she lifted her head and her mouth dropped open. The image of a girl in a short, white dress flickered. The detector beside her flashed. As she reached for it to see the number, a light glow caught her eye. She froze.

  The White Lady floated in the center of the room. She fit the description everyone had given – long white hair, white dress, and bright green eyes. Those eyes regarded McKenna, never blinking once.

  “Where is he?” the ghost demanded. Her voice echoed around the room and inside McKenna’s head all at once.

  McKenna gaped at the apparition.

  Drew lunged for her, trying to help her to her feet. The ghost flicked her wrist. Drew sailed backwards and slammed into the nearest wall with a loud bang.

  “Drew!” McKenna ran for the door, the detector clattering at her feet. The ghost blinked in front of her, blocking her path. Her heart pounded as she tried to read the shimmering woman. Cold anger and determination circled around her, but the curiosity was nowhere to be found. It was as if she had settled on what she wanted. Something wasn’t right.

  The ghost moved closer. “Where is he?”

  “Who? Tristan?” McKenna tried for the door again. The ghost cut her off.

  “You feel the same.” The White Lady’s hair flew off her shoulders like it was caught in a tornado. Her green eyes flashed to red.

  McKenna tried to move, but her muscles wouldn’t respond. She struggled against the hold, but her feet stayed where they were. The ghost plunged her hand into McKenna’s chest. McKenna screamed. Ice spread through her body, sharp, cold, and painful. Breathing was impossible. She swore she’d never be warm again.

  “You’re not as strong,” The White Lady hissed. “I’ll take it all.”

  “Mac!” Something behind her crashed to the floor. “McKenna!”

  The ice changed direction. Instead of going in, it pulled out. Emotions slipped through McKenna’s consciousness like water. Her thoughts scrambled, making no sense. She couldn’t hold onto anything. Her muscles tightened, her head fell back, and her legs crumpled beneath her. Her head bounced off the floor with a loud smack. The ghost was inside her and all around her at the same time. The edges of her vision dimmed.

  “Mac?” Drew’s voice was far away.

  The White Lady yanked her hand out. McKenna expected her to be holding a still-beating heart, but the ghost’s hand was empty. She was solid, whole. Energy radiated around her. She waved, and McKenna slid across the floor. Pain erupted throughout her body as she curled into a ball. The ghost glowed as bright as the sun.

  “Thank you.�
�� The ghost flew through the door.

  McKenna barely registered the sound of a door opening and feet running. Drew’s scream was the last thing she heard.

  15

  Tristan walked into the quiet lobby. He didn’t want to be there; he wanted to turn around and head out to Boone. The safety of his parents’ house called to him. But the need to apologize to McKenna nagged at him more, and that piece of his conscience had a way of sounding like Kayla. True, he could come back and apologize later after the hunt, but getting it out of the way sooner would be better for his sanity.

  Apologizing flew right out of his head when he saw the unmanned control center. His brows dipped. Drew told him that two people studied the monitors at all times. Not seeing anyone there meant the investigation wasn’t going according to plan.

  He raced to the stairs. What if something had happened to McKenna? Details from his vision about Jason came back to him. Jason was terrified the ghost could use his sister. Shit! What if McKenna was her energy supply instead of him?

  Tristan put one foot on the first stair.

  “No! You can’t be real!” His head snapped up at the sound of a man’s voice. Drew? Aaron? No, the voice sounded older, but he couldn’t tell who it was.

  Tristan climbed the stairs two at a time, rushing towards the voice. He rounded the top, turning to start up the second flight. He paused at the first step.

  The White Lady stood on the next landing, terrible and beautiful. Her long hair billowed out behind her. She was solid and beaming, her eyes a bright and dangerous red. A man dangled above the last step. His hands clutched her wrist as he struggled against her hold on his throat. Even in the ghost’s light, it was hard to see who the man was. Please don’t let it be Drew, Tristan thought.

  Tristan took the next step. “Don’t.”

  Her gaze whipped in his direction. For a split second, he thought she heard him. She flung out her free hand.