“Of course not. It’s just … well … where else are you going to sleep?”
“Where else indeed.”
Becca heard his grin and with the fire doused, led the way to her tent. Nervous butterflies twirled in her stomach for an entirely new reason. Did he assume her invite to share sleeping space meant they would also have sex? She didn’t even know him and never imagined herself as someone who’d sleep with a stranger. Especially her first time. So if he did make a move, tried to kiss her, would she let him—and more?
Then another thought struck. What if he doesn’t try anything?
Before she could think further on that surprisingly disappointing possibility, the sounds from the neighboring tents began to escalate. Becca unzipped her tent and held the flap open, hoping not to hear so much when inside.
Shane crawled in and she followed. Once the opening was secured, she lay down on the far edge of her sleeping bag facing him, head pillowed on her hands. As she clicked on a flashlight to lay between them, he stretched out on the opposite edge of her bag, mimicking her pose. He lay close, not touching, yet his presence soothed her nerves. The longer she spent in his company, the more connected she felt to him.
To cover the muffled sounds of sex still filtering through the nylon tent, Becca asked, “Do you really believe all that stuff?”
“I do.” His steady gaze held hers, and she noted his eyes were a striking shade of green. Somewhere in between light and dark, they practically glowed in the limited illumination of the flashlight.
“But it doesn’t make sense. Why would a ghost lure innocent people to their death if she was innocent herself? Like that guy that drowned up here a few years ago—why him? It feels like there should be more to the story.”
“That’s because there is.”
“Do you know it?”
“I do.”
“Will you tell me?” She was stalling, delaying an awkward silence and thoughts of “Should I?” and “Will he?” But more than that, she was surprised to discover she really wanted to know.
“Will it help you believe?”
“Maybe,” she answered honestly. Similar to the attraction drawing her to Shane, her sympathy for the witch continued to grow. Maybe if he filled in the missing details, she would be more inclined to consider the possibility of this legend having a shred of truth.
“Elizabeth never stopped playing with magic. True black magic she learned from a secret society in Boston. You see, James didn’t switch his affections, he was under a spell. The whole thing—the nightgown, their disappearance—it was all a set–up by Elizabeth to get rid of her competition for good.”
Anger warmed her blood. “She was afraid if the spell was ever broken James would know what she did and return to Alianna.”
Surprise widened Shane’s eyes. “I thought you didn’t know the story. Have you remembered?”
“No.”
The moment the automatic denial was out, she let loose a bewildered laugh. The thought had just popped into her head—almost as if she had remembered—but that was impossible. Shane stared at her as if she knew much more than she let on and she struggled for an explanation.
“Lucky guess—I swear. I mean, if you think about it, it is kind of obvious.”
Her confusion eased as he shrugged.
“Where does the ghost come in?”
“A month after they returned home, James drowned in the same river, in the same spot.”
“The Ghost of Still Waters—she got her revenge. And Elizabeth?”
Shane shook his head. “Elizabeth never went near the river again. But within that first year, two of the five men who forced the witch into the water were dead. Drowned, just like James. The other three all died the following year.”
“Did they drown, too?”
“No, but their deaths were decidedly unnatural. They were found on the mountain, blood drained, organs missing.”
That unsettling shiver of dread struck again. But then she frowned and propped her head up on her hand. “Wait a second, wouldn’t that prove Alianna wasn’t the evil witch the Martins claimed she was? If the sacrifices were still going on after Alianna’s death …”
“Stop saying her name. It gives her power.”
“Your belief gives her power,” Becca argued.
“My belief gives me power,” Shane shot back with impatience, pushing up to a sitting position. “You’re too close–minded.”
Taken aback by his abrupt shift of mood, annoyance overrode all other emotions. She sat up, uncomfortable with his larger body looming over her. “You don’t even know me.”
“Oh, but I do.”
“That’s a bit presumptuous considering we only met tonight.”
“You’re wrong about that, too.”
“No. I’d have remembered meeting you, Shane.”
“Eventually, you always do.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’ve been through this before. Each time it takes less time for you to remember who you were. Who we were.”
“I know exactly who I am.” She stared at him, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You’re talking like you’re drunk and yet I didn’t see you down a single shot all night.”
“Think about the story, Becca. Think about the connection you felt the moment you saw me.”
She didn’t want to think about the story. And at this point, she wasn’t too keen on the invisible link to this stranger that even now tugged at some hidden part of her mind and heart.
As if he’d read her thoughts, he continued, “It’s been growing all night—I know you feel it just like I do. This is the closest we’ve ever come to being together after what she did to—”
“Stop right there. What you’re talking about is crazy. That you—that I—that we—no, it’s too crazy to even say out loud.”
“It’s the truth. You must—”
“It’s creepy. Maybe you’d better sleep out ... there.”
He reached for her, but when she jerked back from his touch, he let his hand drop to his thigh. “I don’t mean to scare you, but it’s imperative you understand the importance of what you’ve learned tonight. It could mean the difference between your life and death.”
His ominous tone struck her like a tuning fork, sending increased vibrations of unease through her body. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I want you to leave.”
Frustration darkened his rigid features, giving his expression a sinister cast. “We have been through this before, Becca. In another time—another life.”
“Another life …” she echoed. “As in reincarnation?”
“Yes.”
“God, you really are nuts.”
“You have to listen to me. I—”
“No. The only thing I’ll listen to is you leaving my tent.” When he remained motionless, she crawled over and unzipped the flap. “Get out.”
“Becca—”
“I will scream bloody murder if you don’t leave right now.”
Jaw set, he gave in to her demand. She leaned away as he passed, but he made no attempt to touch her on his way out. He turned as if he meant to speak again, and she found herself drawn into his magnetic green gaze. Before she lost all common sense, she quickly zipped the tent and held her breath for the sound of his retreat. When his footsteps faded, she flopped back onto her sleeping bag.
Her heart raced in her chest as if she’d run a couple miles and when she lifted her hands to her face, her fingers trembled.
He’d spoken as if he were James and she was the witch. Alianna.
“Alianna,” she said under her breath. Defiant enough to speak the name, yet suddenly not quite confident enough to raise her voice above a whisper.
Shane’s words refused to leave her alone. But if she truly was Alianna reincarnated, as he’d implied, why was speaking the name such a bad thing? Wouldn’t the power she evoked be hers?
The more she thought about his warning, the more illogical the whole legend bec
ame. Not to mention, she believed in reincarnation even less than she believed in ghosts and magic.
∼ ∼ ∼
Up early after a sleepless night, Becca focused her attention on the unfamiliar camping coffee pot, determined to forget the stupid Ghost of Still Waters and make a decent cup of caffeine so she could make it through the day. They had a long hike back and she still had a paper to write that was due tomorrow and studying for her history exam.
Shane was nowhere to be seen, and she did her best not to worry where he’d spent the night. She didn’t think he’d have intruded on the others, and with no evidence of him anywhere around the campsite, she wondered if he’d hiked down the mountain in the dark. Guilt slammed home with that thought, and despite the way they’d parted last night, she hoped he was okay.
Ted emerged from his tent as the coffee finished percolating. Much as Becca wanted to ask him if he knew where Shane had gone, she didn’t want to talk about their argument—most especially not with Ted, so she kept quiet.
The football player sniffed the chilly mountain air as he tugged worn jeans up over a snug pair of red boxers. “Mmm,” he groaned in appreciation.
Becca noticed he left the denim unfastened, riding low on his lean hips, and didn’t bother to pull on his T–shirt as he joined her by the campfire. Just looking at all his bare skin made her want to put on another sweatshirt over her hoodie.
“You haven’t tasted it yet,” she warned. “I’ve never made coffee like this before.”
“Any caffeine is welcome this morning. I was up half the night.”
“I know,” she muttered, pouring them both a cup.
Ted accepted the coffee she offered with a chuckle. “That could’ve been you last night.”
Becca’s cheeks heated as her memory replayed some of the more enthusiastic sounds she’d heard from his tent. In the wee hours of the morning, teetering on the verge of slumber, she’d indulged in a vivid, imaginative fantasy—only her traitorous mind cast Shane in the lead role, not Ted. That’s when she’d given up hope of sleep. She didn’t want to like a guy who clearly had a few screws loose upstairs. Yet another reason to not ask his whereabouts this morning.
Self–conscious over the stubborn images in her mind, she tucked her hair behind her ear and warmed her fingers on the plastic mug of coffee in her hands.
Ted straddled the log she sat on and slid in close until her butt rested in the cradle of his thighs. His free hand landed on her knee before easing up her leg, his fingers trailing along the inside of her thigh. Her stomach somersaulted at the intimate contact.
“Still could be you, Becca,” he invited in a low, husky voice. “Liz and I aren’t exclusive.”
Surprise held her motionless for a breathless moment. His moist lips found the warm skin of her neck.
The cool touch jolted her into motion and she shot to her feet, sloshing coffee over the edge of her cup. Through clenched teeth, she sucked in a breath for her burned fingers as she spun to face him. Her gaze raked over his tousled blond hair, muscled footballer physique and toned abs. Yeah, the guy had a great body, but knowing what she did, nothing about him peaked her interest.
“I don’t think Liz would agree with you.”
“That’s her problem, not mine.”
From the corner of her eye, Becca caught movement off to her right and turned in time to see the flap of Ted’s tent ease back down. She cast a grim smile his way. “That’s about to change. Good luck.”
She left Ted to his fate, dumped the bitter coffee on the edge of the fire, and went to pack her things. She didn’t care if she had to hike down the mountain alone, didn’t care if it ruined any chance she had of becoming a Delta Cappa Phi; she’d had enough.
Liz approached as Becca snapped the last clip on her backpack. She rose to her feet warily, but the dark–haired senior offered a friendly smile.
“I’m sorry if Ted led you on earlier. He was just having a little fun.”
Becca suspected she was just trying to save face. “Why do you even like him? You could do so much better.”
She laughed, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. “Are you kidding? Ted’s a great catch. He’s got the body, he comes from money, and already a number of NFL scouts have been sniffing around. Besides, you can’t blame him for being intrigued by your virginity.”
“What?” Becca glanced around self–consciously, hoping no one else heard.
“Oh, Bec, it’s so obvious, and you have to know, some guys see that as a challenge.” Liz laid her hand on Becca’s arm and gave a consolatory rub. “But don’t worry, after today, he won’t bother you again.”
Her blue gaze took on a steely glint to match her final words. Becca searched for a response, but the other girl backed away, smiling once more.
“We’ll be leaving in about ten minutes.”
Good. Then she could go back to avoiding Ted and Liz. Granola bar breakfast in one hand, backpack in the other, Becca walked toward the campfire. She scanned for the water bucket when a terrified scream split the misty morning from the direction of the river.
Megan!
Before the echo died, Becca’s pack thudded to the ground and she ran through the trees, heart in her throat. She pulled up short about ten strides later.
Not far from the riverbank, the petite blond punched Johnny in the arm as he doubled over in silent laughter.
“Jerk! You scared the crap out of me!” She hit him again.
“Oh, man.” He straightened and wiped moisture from his eyes. “You should’ve seen your face.”
“Is everything okay?” Becca asked as Liz and Ted joined them in the small clearing.
“He told me he saw the witch’s face in the water and then almost pushed me in!” Megan accused.
Becca saw no humor in the fact that she could’ve fallen in the dangerous rapids, but Johnny grinned at Ted. “Did you hear that scream? That was awesome.”
“It’s not funny.” Megan stomped back to the campsite.
“Come on,” Johnny cajoled after he set the water bucket near the fire and sidled up to the blond. “It was kinda funny, don’t you think?”
“No.” She scooped up her backpack and started down the trail.
He must’ve realized how badly he screwed up because he sobered quickly and hurried after Megan. “I’m sorry I scared you that bad. It was just supposed to be a joke.”
The two of them continued, their conversation fading with distance. Becca doused the fire for a second time that weekend and then shouldered her pack to follow everyone else. She brought up the rear as Liz and Ted stayed together, but after the first mile, Megan separated herself from Johnny and positioned herself in front of Becca.
“You okay,” she asked Megan while she shoved her granola wrapper in a side pocket of her backpack.
The blond gave a brief smile over her shoulder. “That ghost story really creeped me out last night. I know you don’t believe in it, but something felt weird last night. Almost as if she was watching and listening to us.”
Becca raised her eyebrows in disbelief as Liz fell back to join them. “You don’t honestly think I summoned a spirit just by saying her name a few times, do you?”
With a bit of a sheepish smile, Megan gave a silent shrug.
Liz winked at Becca and then said, “Ted said the still waters are about a half mile away. Shall we go talk to the witch?”
Megan sighed, though her expression still held a hint of a smile. “Make fun if you want, but I swear I felt a presence at the fire last night.”
“It’s called Cherry Pie, Megs.”
She brushed past Liz, who rolled her eyes and shared a grin with Becca as they resumed their hike along the river. The rushing water formed a soothing backdrop and every so often through the trees Becca glimpsed the white–water rapids making their way down the mountain over boulders and dead trees caught in the river’s path.
They caught up to the guys a little while later, and Ted pointed past a split rail barrie
r that looked like it’d been put up to discourage people from using an old trail.
“We gotta get back for football practice, but the still waters are down there a little ways,” he told Liz. “Past these rapids you’ll find the section where it’s all smooth, and then the river drops down over a waterfall.”
“Talk about wicked,” Johnny added. “It’s gotta be a good fifty foot drop.”
“Great, thanks. See you guys later.”
Liz pulled Ted in for a kiss. Megan said goodbye to Johnny and it appeared all had been forgiven. Becca moved to the side of the trail, suddenly wishing she hadn’t gotten so upset with Shane over something that in the light of day wasn’t such a big deal. A stupid ghost story may have ruined her chance to get to know a really nice guy.
Liz rubbed her hands in anticipation after the guys left. Excitement lit her blue eyes with an alluring light. “Ready?”
“Maybe I’ll just hang back here and wait for you two,” Megan said.
“Oh, no.” Becca took hold of her arm. “We’re all going.”
After a few more token protests, Megan gave in and they picked their way through the overgrown foliage along the wild river. Though the sun had risen high enough to burn off the morning fog, the air remained cool enough at the higher elevation that Becca kept her jacket on.
About sixty yards along the original path, the sound of the rapids faded and the water smoothed out like a crystal clear sheet of glass.
“Wow,” Megan breathed in wonder.
Becca agreed. The change was almost magical. She removed her pack and moved closer to the river bank.
“Becca,” Megan called her back in a stage whisper. “This is where she appears. Don’t go over there.”
She ignored the fear–laced plea and squatted by the river’s edge. Just to prove to herself it was real, she stuck her forefinger in the water. The chill against her skin sent a shiver up her spine. A small ripple appeared on either side of her finger, and beneath the surface, she felt the pull of the current.
Still waters; wicked currents.
A smile tugged the corners of her mouth when she recalled Johnny’s apt description.
“Oh my God— look!”
Becca jerked her hand from the water and scrambled backwards, half expecting to see a ghostly figure hovering downriver where Megan now pointed. All she saw was a large fallen tree, bridging the river from their side to the other bank.
Tales From The Mist: An Anthology of Horror and Paranormal Stories Page 24