by Tricia Barr
***
“So, how was it?” Carmella asked excitedly as soon as I walked through the front door.
“It was great,” I answered. “I really loved every minute of school. Even my boring economics class.” I gushed out every detail of my day. English and Economics had been my only courses in a traditional classroom. The other one, a History of Medicine, was in a huge lecture hall with hundreds of other students. These classes alternated on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and tomorrow and Thursday, I had Medieval Art and Biology 101. All of these courses were general education requirements for the medical program, so I was one step closer to actually becoming a doctor, to saving lives rather than taking them.
“That’s fantastic, I’m so glad everything went well,” she said with a smile. “Did you make any new friends? Meet any cute boys?” She fluttered her thick lashes at me playfully.
Not technically. I had been dissecting my encounter with dream-ghost-guy off and on all day. By the end of my final class, I had decided that it had just been a misunderstanding. That some guy who looked like him was wandering about the campus and just happened to look my way. Maybe he wasn’t even looking at me. Maybe he was looking at someone behind me or staring off in thought—as I so often do myself—and I just happened to be the person his eyes fell on as he pondered whatever was on his mind.
Either way, it couldn’t have been dream guy. I had just made the connection in my head because of the dream. And as for the trigger of my ghost sense, there must have been a spirit nearby that I just didn’t see. It was a big, old campus. Who knows how many people could have died there or in the vicinity over the years.
“No cute boys,” I laughed and rolled my eyes. “But it’s only the first day, so who knows.” I stuck my tongue out. “And as far as friends, I have Trixie—best not to push my luck.”
“Oh stop,” she said. “You’re my favorite person in the entire world. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend.”
I smiled and decided to change the subject. “How about you, how was schmoozing with the moms?”
“It was very fun, you wouldn’t believe the gossip! Oh, and that reminds me,” she added, holding up her index finger. “Can you manage on your own tonight? Some of the ladies are meeting for cocktails to complain about their husbands.”
“Sure,” I said with a laugh. “But you’re single. How ever will you manage to fit in?”
“No one can gossip better than me,” she said, aiming her index finger at me.
Didn’t I know it. She would be Queen of the Country Club in no time.
“You go and have fun. Don’t worry about me,” I encouraged.
So, she dolled herself up—as if she even needed to—and left me to fend for myself for the night. I boiled some water for top ramen in traditional college fashion and got a head start on my English essay.
I was so used to working at an efficient pace that I finished the paper in an hour, completely forgetting about the water I had put on to boil. When I went to the kitchen to check on it, the pot was almost empty, the water all but evaporated away. I went to the sink to get water to put into the pot.
Clang! Splash! Sizzle!
I jumped and spun around, dropping the cup of water and spilling it all over the kitchen floor. The pot that had been on the stove was now upside down on the floor, its scalding water splattered only inches from my feet. What the…?
I leaned in to examine the stove, wondering what could have knocked down the pot. Seeing nothing amiss, I knelt down to inspect the pot itself. I reached my hand down to lift it. Apparently, my spoiled teenage self forgot that pots are hot after being left on the stove for an hour, and I snatched my hand back against my chest, squealing in pain. Stupid, stupid!
I turned back to the sink and turned the faucet on over my freshly burned fingertips. As the water cascaded soothingly over the prematurely blistering flesh, the pot zoomed across the kitchen floor and smacked into the cabinets against the wall. I watched with wide eyes, my nerves twitching, preparing me to duck should the rogue pot decide to hurl itself in my direction.
When the pot remained in its position for several minutes, I turned off the water and slipped my unscathed hand into a heat-protective glove. I tentatively tiptoed toward the pot and grabbed it by the handle. I don’t exactly know what my reasoning was in doing the following, but I rushed to the door and placed the pot on the doorstep outside, as if afraid the pot had taken on a life of its own and might attack me. Of course, I felt incredibly foolish as I walked back into the kitchen to set the glove back on its hook, but I wasn’t about to turn around and bring that thing back inside.
Abandoning my quest for ramen, I opened the fridge to see what my other options were. To my dismay, and confusion, the light inside the fridge did not turn on. Figuring it just hadn’t registered that the door was open, I closed it, held it, then opened it again. This time when I opened the door, all the lights in the house flickered.
Confusion coiled into fear inside me.
A subtle but familiar prickle on the back of my neck told me this was not just happenstance. Something precarious, something otherworldly, was going on here.
I didn’t stick around to find out what it was.
I hightailed it out of there before I could even take another breath. I ran down the street to Trixie’s house and knocked on the door perhaps a little too urgently.
The door opened, and Trixie greeted me with a somewhat perplexed expression. “Lorelei? What’s up?”
“Uh, nothing,” I said, trying to rein in my anxiety. Then I came up with an excuse by the seat of my pants. “I was just wondering if you have any plans for dinner. You know, our moms are out getting smashed, so I figured we could hang.”
“Yeah, sure,” Trixie said, stepping aside to welcome me in. “We can order a pizza.”
“Cool,” I said, sounding as calm as I could.
I followed her into her living room as she called the nearest pizza place to order delivery, all the while tingling with newfound apprehension. What happened tonight was unprecedented. No ghost had ever been able to affect the physical world before. Of course, I had always heard of poltergeists—come on, who hasn’t seen that movie? But I had never experienced a presence strong enough to do those things.
What worried me even more was that I hadn’t seen, heard or hardly even felt the spirit responsible. Ghosts almost always manifested in some visual form, or at least an audible one. Whispers or singing or chatter, or at least a flicker out of the corner of my eye. But there had been nothing. Just a pot of cripplingly hot water flying across the room.
I was starting to rethink my verdict over the incident from this morning. What if I really did see something of importance across the field before, and what if it was haunting me?
“Lorelei, wake up,” Trixie whispered, nudging me awake.
I opened my eyes to realize that the lights of the lecture hall had been turned back on and the students of my Medieval Art class were filing towards the exits. I sat up in my perhaps overly comfortable chair, coming slowly to my senses.
“Did I miss much?” I asked Trixie, who was pulling her backpack over her shoulders.
“No, just a repeat of the syllabus,” Trixie said.
“Oh good,” I said, standing up and grabbing my backpack as well.
I hadn’t slept well last night. I had been too paranoid after the kitchen fiasco, snapping awake all night long at the slightest sound. And these lecture halls had all the right features to facilitate napping: minimal lighting, cushy theatre chairs, and teachers orating in a monotonous tone. I had been helpless against such odds. I was lucky that this was the one class Trixie and I had together, otherwise I might have slept through my next class.
I followed Trixie out with the flocks of students, the sun slapping me in the face with its obnoxious brightness.
“Meet after class for lunch?” Trixie asked.
“Definitely,” I said.
Trixie nodded with satisfaction an
d headed toward her next class. My destination was Biology 101, in a building a short walk away. I decided to jog instead of walk, in an attempt to wake myself up. Biology was the most important class of the semester, and I couldn’t afford not to be at the top of my game. This might prove difficult to achieve unless Medieval Art got a whole lot more interesting, or the professor at least spoke with more than one tone.
The room was set up just like my English class, with tables that had two chairs each. I was a bit early, so I had free pick of wherever I wanted to sit. I chose one in the back corner and took out my notebook.
The class filled up around me as the hour closed in, and it seemed I might have the table all to myself because no one took the seat beside me. Well this is disappointing. Do I smell bad or something? I can’t meet new people and make new friends if no one wants to even get close to me.
The professor, a tall, nerdy man in his late twenties with glasses, started the lecture, and my shoulders slunk with dissatisfaction; I would be alone after all. I accepted my solitude and scribbled down notes as the professor spoke.
About ten minutes into the class, the door opened, and a young man entered and approached the professor with a slip.
“Sorry I’m late,” the guy said, handing the slip over. “I just got transferred.”
“Uh, very well, take a seat,” the professor said, gesturing to the tables in front of him.
I finished the sentence I was writing and looked at the latecomer.
!!!
My heart stopped for three solid seconds.
I wasn’t just imagining things this time. With him only a few feet away, I could clearly see that the face once again looking at me was the face I knew better than any other. He sure as hell was the man from my dreams, and he was no ghost. He was just as alive as everyone else in this room. And he was coming my way.
I looked around the room. There were no other empty seats. Balls, he’s gonna sit right next to me!
I avoided looking at him as he took the empty chair to my right. Panic surged through me. My senses were alive under the raw power that crackled off him. It was thick and heavy, almost tangible. If he wasn’t a ghost, then what was he? I had never experienced something of this magnitude before. What did he want with me?
I couldn’t help myself. I stole a sideways glance at him. He was taking a notebook out of his shoulder bag. As on guard as I was right now, I was still struck by how handsome he was. His ashen gold hair curled perfectly around his ears, ending in crescent waves at the base of his muscular neck. His was the kind of neck you just want to cup your hand around and let your fingers get lost in his hair. He had broad, sexy shoulders, wrapped snuggly in a gray t-shirt that matched his gray eyes. At this angle, I couldn’t see his chest, but I imagined it was just as defined and closely hugged by the fabric as his shoulders.
And those lips. Pretty and angular and pale pink. The dream memory of them pressing on mine flashed into my head, warming me all over.
Now I was a typhoon of confusion. I was simultaneously repelled and captivated by the creature sitting beside me. My head told me to run, but my body wanted to reach out and touch.
He turned in my direction, his gray eyes flashing with green as they locked with mine. He offered a friendly smile, but all I could do was rip my gaze away and stare blankly at the professor talking at the head of the classroom.
I couldn’t focus on anything the professor was saying. I just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, to flee the overwhelming radiation that my gorgeous neighbor was emitting. My eyes kept jumping to the clock over the chalk board, seeing the minute hand move in one and two-minute increments.
Finally, there were only five minutes left of the hour, and my legs itched with the need to spring out of this chair and race away.
“Alright, well that’s it for my introductory spiel,” I heard the professor say. “With the time that’s remaining, why don’t you get to know the person sitting next to you, exchange contact info and such; they will be your lab partner for the semester.”
What? No, no, no!
The students around me turned to face their neighbors and interact, but I was reluctant to reciprocate. Could I just fake nausea or something and rush out? I was already used to being “that weird kid”, maybe being “that chick who got sick on the first day” wouldn’t be so bad.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my table mate turn to face me, while I kept my eyes glued down on my notebook as if reading something fascinating there. I felt his gray gaze on me, sending a shiver through the hairs that were already standing at attention all over my body. I couldn’t ignore him for much longer without seeming rude or brain dead, so I resolved to get this over with and acknowledge him.
“So, I guess we’re going to be spending some time together for the next few months,” he said jovially. He extended his open hand. “I’m Killian.”
My gut clenched with apprehension at his gesture, but my nerve endings danced at the excuse to indulge their urge to touch him. I tentatively accepted his hand, relinquishing my own. Our skin connected, and I inwardly swooned at the softness of his fingertips as they slid across my palm, at how warm and wonderful his large hand felt as it closed around mine.
“Lorelei,” I said, my voice sounding flat despite the hyper energy coursing through my system.
I withdrew my hand and wiped it on my pants, like it was now contaminated, trying not to care how cold it felt in the absence of his touch.
The gesture did not escape his notice, and he momentarily frowned. He shrugged it off and pulled a smart phone out of his front jeans pocket.
“Let’s get each other’s numbers,” Killian said.
“Why?” I asked in a tone that was a bit to snappy.
He furrowed his handsome brow at me and chuckled. “Because Professor Link just told us to. I assume we’ll be working on projects outside of class, so it would be best to be able to reach other, right?”
Now I felt stupid. “Oh. Right.”
With an amused smile, he handed me his phone. I took mine out of my pocket and handed it to him in return. We saved our digits in each other’s phone and then gave them back.
“Thanks,” he said, the amused look still on his face.
The lighthearted way he regarded me melted my tension, making me relax a bit. If it weren’t for the magnitude of his presence, I would think he was just an ordinary guy—and a hot one at that! I might even think that maybe his resemblance to my dream guy was an extreme coincidence. Something about him made me want to trust him. But I was too well-versed in the evils of the world to buy into it.
“Since we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other this semester, and this little get-to-know-you period is almost over,” he pointed at the clock, whose minute hand was almost at the number twelve, “do you wanna grab some coffee or a bite to eat some time? I’m free after this class actually.”
So apparently, I wasn’t weird enough to chase him off. Until I figured out what he was and what his motives were, I wasn’t about to go anywhere with him. And I was ignoring the little voice inside my chest that wanted me to throw myself at him.
“Uh, no thanks,” I said, trying to sound more polite this time. “I’m supposed to meet a friend for lunch.”
“Okay, well, some other time then,” he said. The rest of the class started to leave their seats. “Either way, I’ll see you Thursday.” And he smiled in a way that made my heart skip, and then walked out of the room with the rest of the students.
I dreamt about him again that night. When he died this time, I jumped awake, cold sweat covering my forehead.
After seeing him again in my dream, I was more confident than ever that Killian was indeed the same guy I’d dreamt about all my life. Who was he? How could this be happening?
I sat in my bed for a long time thinking about it, trying to figure things out. Killian definitely wasn’t an ordinary human being. Even if we forget that he walked right out of my dreams, there was still the
massive amount of energy that he exuded. If the rest of the class hadn’t also seen him, I would have continued to assume that he was an incredibly powerful spirit.
And maybe he was. I had never come across a ghost that could make itself visible to other people, but as strong as Killian was, maybe he was able to expose himself to everyone, to pretend to be alive.
No, that couldn’t be it. He was alive. He was just too solid to be a ghost. And he had a smell. A really nice smell, like rain and cloves. A smile twitched my lips at the memory of that scent before I could stop myself.
Okay, so it wasn’t likely that he was a ghost. Then what was he? Could he be someone like me? Did he have powers like mine? That would explain why he was so weirdly interested in me. If he could sense my energy the way I could sense his, that would put me on his radar for sure.
But that still wouldn’t explain the dreams. Could they maybe be visions of the future? That was unlikely. The time frame of the dreams was not modern day, not even close. I mean, come on, people don’t sword fight these days. Judging by the armor we and our attackers had been wearing, the dreams were set in the Medieval era. Killian was a sort of knight. A knight in bloodied armor.
There were just too many questions. Part of me wanted to transfer out of Biology and just forget all about Killian. It was early enough in the semester, so dropping the class wouldn’t hurt me in the least. I could just retake it next semester. But a stronger part of me wanted to solve this mystery, wanted to go down the rabbit hole and see where it led. Even if I did avoid Killian in real life, I couldn’t escape him in my dreams, so I might as well follow the course that fate had laid out for me.
When Thursday came, I was ready to face him. Or at least, I thought I was.
He was already sitting at our table when I walked in the classroom, and my heart thumped at the sight of him. Those soft gray eyes caught me instantly, making me feel trapped, caught in their gravitational pull and helpless to escape. He smiled at me, and my insides fluttered with nervous heat, threatening to melt my legs right out from under me.