Seated on the hood of his Jeep, Calvin straightened his legs, leaned his back against the windshield. “It’s got to be.”
Parker leaned back as well. “I know.”
The steady sound of the rushing river was like a loyal friend, staying constant and true among the madness.
Parker nudged Calvin in the shoulder. “You up for one more thing?”
Calvin shrugged, barely mustering the energy to speak. “Doubt it.”
“I was just thinking. If we can spring into the air like that, I wonder if we can press off and go straight ahead, parallel to the ground like Superman.”
The thought hit Calvin like a fist to the throat, made it hard for him to speak. He’d been trying to piece things together the entire evening. Thinking of Evie, of the bar incident, the curse, and of what Grandpa had said about the girl named Fiona. He’d nearly forgotten about the recurring part of his dream. “I am an idiot,” he said. “How did I miss that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Just that, I know we can.” It was such an obvious tie to his dream. Or nightmare, the one that had him fighting for Evie’s life, shooting across the earth in a mad rush to save her.
Calvin slid off the hood of the Jeep, reached into the glove box through the broken window, and grabbed a flashlight. “Let’s go the route of the river. We don’t want to hit any trees.”
As he reached the base of the waterfall, his mind burdened with the mystery before him, Calvin turned to face the river. Parker took the light from him and shined it over the rushing water. The speeding torrents flowed in cool shades of black and grey. Thin sheets of frosted ice canopied the edges of the river, while frozen crystals clustered around the high, protruding rocks, lending a contrasting white to the dark scene.
“Aim the light straight ahead,” Calvin said. “We’ll curve around the bend, stay just above the river.”
Parker nodded. “Shouldn’t we climb up to that ledge, get a little higher?”
Calvin eyed the ledge behind him, about eight feet off the ground. “Probably a good idea.”
As he made his way onto the ledge, visions of his nightmare played through his head. “You ready?”
“I think so. Count of three?”
“Okay.”
Parker aimed the beam of light straight ahead. Though weak compared to the endless dark, the yellowed glow brought life to the canyon land before them. Small critters scattered out of the beam’s reach. Dark limbs twisted and reached their way over the waters, some greeting neighboring branches across the way.
Calvin placed his foot behind him, against the rocky mass of mountain.
Parker did the same. “One,” he said.
Thoughts of his haunting dream stabbed at Calvin’s mind.
“Two.”
He already knew what to expect. He’d done this before, even if it was only in a dream.
“Three,” Parker yelled.
Calvin jumped, maneuvering his other foot against the mountain’s edge, deftly noting the familiar warmth rushing through his legs. He pressed off, away from the mountain, into the dimly lit night.
Brisk air bit at his skin as he sped over the river, catching splashes of cool mist from the massive spray. The experience–the sheer movement–mimicked the flights from his dream. And though he wasn’t speeding to Evie’s aid, Calvin feared for her safety more than ever. Elements of his haunting dream had become a reality. It was only a matter of time before the rest would too.
Calvin shifted his gaze between the rushing river and the bark-covered branches, maneuvering as needed to avoid them. He and Parker were almost neck and neck.
“How do we stop?” Parker yelled as their speed declined.
Calvin focused on a large limb reaching over the river. “I’m going to grab onto that branch.” He straightened his arms as the tree sped toward him at an alarming rate, tightening his muscles in preparation.
As the rough wood slammed against his palms, Calvin clenched his fingers around the sturdy branch. Momentum swung his body up and around the limb in a lurching spell. Using his hands as anchors, he watched the speeding blur of darkened earth and blackened sky rush by him, nausea setting in. Before he could stop himself, Calvin spun around a second time, the brittle bark slipping beneath his fingers and palms, threatening to throw him recklessly into the night.
Sharp splinters of jagged bark dug into his palms as he tightened his grip on the limb, brought himself to a stop over the river. Hands hot and ready to give, he swung himself onto dry ground and spotted the yellow light across the water.
Parker came to a stand, wiping dirt and twigs from his clothes. “That was wicked.”
“How’d you land?” Calvin asked.
“I did a tuck and roll off to the side. Your landing was way cooler.”
Calvin dropped to his knees and sunk his sore palms into the splashing river, letting the cool water soothe the heated ache. “Yeah, well it killed my hands.”
Parker wedged the flashlight between his knees and leaned over, shaking the dirt and leaves from his hair.
A new sort of anxiety gripped hold of Calvin. Concern for Evie, coupled with frustration at his inability to solve the riddle before him. All he wanted was to go to bed, wake up, and find the whole night had been nothing more than a wild dream.
“Come on, Parker. Stop primping and give me that flashlight. Let’s get back to the Jeep.”
Parker must have been exhausted, too, because rather than take to the sky in a flight over the river, he trudged right through the water instead.
Going home sounded nice. Going to Evie’s sounded better. Certainly she’d gone to bed by now. But she’d probably made herself sick with worry first, and he hadn’t even called her back. He’d make it up to her tomorrow. Go to her place first thing.
Calvin could hardly imagine seeing Evie face to face now, without telling her the truth. All of it. He wanted to tell her about every detail, show her what he could do. But for now, the truth would have to wait. For all he knew, the truth could be deadly.
Chapter Twenty-four
A distant knocking jolted Calvin from sleep. He yawned, stretched, and realized he was on the couch. His eyes shot open as he recalled the night before. “Parker.” He looked across the room.
Parker lay sleeping on the smaller couch, his feet dangling off the edge.
The knocking came again. A loud booming that caused Parker to reach for a throw pillow, cover his head.
What if it was Evie? Calvin rushed to the door, peeked through the blinds. It was still dark out, but the glow from their porch light stretched into the driveway, illuminating a motorcycle parked out front. Crap. “Parker, get up. Someone’s here.”
“So what?” The pillow muffled his voice. “Don’t get it.”
“I think it’s someone from the bar last night. Probably here to kill you.”
“Shut up, man.”
“I’m serious.”
The knock came once more.
Just as Calvin moved to the edge of the window, hoping to get a look at their visitor, a pair of legs donning striped tights stepped into the light. “What? I think it’s a girl.” He grabbed the doorknob.
“What do you mean? Like a girl scout or something?” Parker sprung from the couch and peeked through the window behind him. “You mean a hot girl. Red hair, pouty lips and a tight bod. Yes please.”
Before Calvin had the door open, Parker was at his side, swiping a hand over his hair. “Can I help you?” he asked, once she was in sight.
“No.” The uninvited guest stepped through the door, slid between them, and strode toward the couch. After sinking into one of the cushions, she propped her knee-high boots onto the coffee table. “Name’s Fiona,” she said. “And I’m here to help you.”
“You’re the waitress from the bar,” Calvin said.
Parker shot him an incredulous glare. “You know this girl?”
“I’m here to explain why you guys were able to do all that in the
bar last night,” she said in a rush of words that nearly merged together.
“What?” Parker squeaked.
Calvin felt his heart sputter. “Tell me it doesn’t involve Evie.”
The young visitor glanced at him. “You already know it does.”
“Why would it have anything to do with her?” Parker asked.
“You’re about to find out.” Fiona held out an open palm.
Calvin leaned forward as the outline of a transparent square became visible on her hand. In one smooth motion, the creases of her palm faded as the shape fused into a solid shade of creamy white–a folded page. He jolted back.
“What the hell kind of trick was that?” Parker asked.
“This letter will explain a lot. Read over it. And then we’ll talk.”
Calvin reached for the tattered page, vaguely noting the front door was still open. Parker’s hand was set on the doorknob; his gaze was set on the girl.
“Close the door, Parker,” he said, opening the folds of aged paper.
Parker obeyed. “How’d you make that page appear?”
“You found a poem in your grandfather’s journal,” Fiona said to Calvin.
He looked up at her, surprised, but before he could answer, Parker spoke up again. “You did?”
Calvin ignored him. “What about it?”
“It was written by your great, great grandfather, Winston Knight. The letter in your hand was addressed to him.”
Calvin nodded. “Okay.”
“In the poem, he refers to the Raven-haired Ghost.”
A chill slid down his lower back. “Yes.” He nodded once more for her to elaborate.
“That letter was written by her.”
The note in his hand suddenly felt different. Dark, angry, corrupt. A flash of knowledge hit his brain like a block of ice: the ghost was real. And now, he was about to catch a glimpse into her cryptic soul.
Parker came up behind him as he opened the final fold, an ill twist wrenching in his gut. Wordlessly, he read over the black ink script, ignoring the trembling of the page as his hands shook.
My beloved Winston,
Upon addressing this parchment, I, Jocelyn Blanch, will thrust the sweet dagger of death into my breast and reign as a dark spirit among you. You have refused to join me, and in so doing, have taken my only hope for love in this life. For that, I shall never forgive you. For that, I shall seek revenge.
Before winter’s chill puts an end to this year, the woman you love will be taken from you, robbed of her very existence by way of bloody murder. You will be left to writhe in the agony, flounder in the very misery, and swallow that bitter taste of despair, which even now stands stagnant on my tongue.
But dear Winston, do not think I will stop there. When Winston Jr. should chance to fall in love, envelope himself in the fine feast of it, I shall take the object of his affection by bloodshed as well. This I will continue in effort to satisfy the fever of hate that infects my very soul.
This curse shall pass from seed to seed, until it has been carried fourfold.
Only then, will I return and take, at my desire, one of the Knight men for my own. Be warned, Winston, for it shall be done.
Jocelyn Blanch
Calvin cleared his throat. “What did he do to her?”
“What? You actually believe this crap?” Parker grabbed the letter from Calvin’s hands. “She’s a waitress, Calvin.”
“Hey, Barker,” Fiona interrupted. “Have you been absent the last ten minutes? I’m not a waitress.”
“Then what are you?” Parker asked. “And did you just call me Barker? It’s Parker, with a P.”
“I’ll tell you more about me later. For now, let me explain where this all started. Take me to the kitchen and I’ll get you some breakfast. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”
Calvin led Fiona to the fridge in a slow shuffle and watched her pull out a carton of eggs. He eyed the clock, surprised to see it was just past five. They’d had only one hour of sleep. Evie was probably sleeping. He’d sent her a text earlier; hopefully it had put her at ease.
“Frying pan?” Fiona asked.
“Drawer under the stove.” Calvin took a seat at the barstool. “So this … crazy woman killed my mother?”
“Yep,” she said.
He waited for this news to grip him with renewed shock and pain. But it didn’t. Either he’d already come to terms with the truth of it, or he was just too numb to digest all the details. He wasn’t sure which.
Parker took a seat at the other barstool. “What are you talking about? And stop ignoring me. Mom was hit by an old guy, not some dead, psycho lady.”
Fiona stood up, frying pan in hand. “Actually, the man driving that car was possessed, in a sense, by this woman. It’s the same way all the Knight men have lost their loved ones.” She cracked a few eggs into the pan. “See, Jocelyn had this ability. Well, she still does. She can mentally persuade others to do her will. She noticed it when she was young, and used it for small, self-serving things like, urging the kid in front of her to step out of line so she could go down the slide first.”
“Do you always talk this fast?” Parker asked. “I swear it’s like you’re in a race. I can barely keep up.”
Without acknowledging Parker’s statement, Fiona continued. “Of course Jocelyn’s desires evolved over the years. She was beautiful and used to getting what she wanted one way or another. It wasn’t often someone told her no.”
The haunting image Calvin had drawn–the face behind the Knight’s chronic curse –gnawed at his mind while he listened.
“Somewhere along the line, Jocelyn went wrong–way wrong. She started connecting with dark spirits from the underground. Spirits who promised that her powers would multiply if she sacrificed her earthly life and joined them in the world below.”
“What, like suicide?” Parker sneered at the eggs in the pan. “You going to use any salt on those?”
“Yes, like suicide. And no, you can salt your own eggs if you want.” Fiona moved the eggs across the pan with the spatula. “Anyway, Jocelyn was determined to give herself over to them, but she wanted the man she loved to take part in the ritual with her–a dual sacrifice.”
“And let me guess,” Parker said. “That’s where good ol’ Winston comes in.”
“Yes. She tried to convince him to join her. She even tried to mindfully force him to come along, but she couldn’t. And that was part of her problem. She wasn’t as powerful as she wanted to be. She hated discovering her limitations. Jocelyn always wanted more.” Fiona shrugged. “Long story short, he left, married someone else, and after they had their first child, that letter arrived.”
Calvin shuddered at the thought. “It says that when the deed’s been carried four fold–”
“I know,” Fiona said. “That’s why I’m here. It’s why you’ve received your gifts.”
“Gifts?” Parker sounded offended. “You mean, powers?”
She shot him a loaded glare. “Uh, no, Packer. I mean gifts. What did you think? That you were just randomly turning into the next Bruce Wayne and Peter Parker? Give me a break.”
Parker’s face scrunched up. “Geeze. No need to get hostile. And my name is Parker. It’s not Barker and it sure as hell isn’t Packer. Is this your way of flirting with me? Cuz I have to be honest, there’s a better approach.”
“Here.” She slid the hot pan of roughly scrambled eggs across the counter, grabbed a couple of forks, and stuck them into the eggs. “About the four-fold thing. Jocelyn intends to get what she wanted all along–one of the Knight men. Which leads us to you guys. Her plan is to persuade one of you to join her in the underground.”
A spark of hope rushed over Calvin. “That’s all she wants this time? Does that mean Evie’s safe? If she only wants me or Parker…”
Fiona shook her head, silencing him with the act alone. “I think you already know that’s not the case, Calvin. Jocelyn has no intention of leaving Evie out of the equation. First of all
, it’s your love for Evie that alerts Jocelyn, draws her attention to the two of you. She’s been waiting for one of you to find that level of love, because she can’t get to you on her own. She’ll use Evie for that, use her as a lure to get to you guys.”
A volcano of heat erupted in Calvin’s chest. “A lure?” he growled. “I won’t let her.” He pushed away from the counter and barreled across the floor, a cold sweat breaking over his skin. “No one is going to touch Evie. I’ll kill anyone who even tries.” A vision of Evie’s face, innocent and sweet, rushed to his mind. “In fact, she’s not going to be any part of this. I’ll break up with her–right now if I have to.” Conviction rang strong behind his words. He knew what he had to do. What he should have done once the nightmares began.
Fiona’s green eyes grew wide. “No, Calvin, wait. It’s too late for that. You’re in love. Leaving Evie isn’t going to change that. In fact, setting her free would only magnify your love for her, because you’d be doing it to keep her safe, sacrificing for her. That amount of love is just what Jocelyn covets. Trust me. She’s not going to stop.”
“I’ll make her stop.” His mind whirled like crashing waves of hot and cold. Anger and despair. How could he have dragged Evie into this?
“That’s why I’m here, Calvin–to help you stop her. But this is Jocelyn’s game, and if you want to beat her at it, you have to play by a few rules. I need you to focus. Sit down and eat–”
“I’m not going to eat. What I’m going to do is …” What he wanted to do was pick up the stupid pan of eggs and throw it across the room until it shattered the kitchen window. He wanted to hurt something. Or someone. Blame them for what he faced.
“Calvin,” Parker said. “Sit down and hear her out.” The misplaced look of maturity in his brother’s eyes threw Calvin off. He looked back at Fiona, trudged over to the counter again, and stood next to the barstool. The adrenaline within him protested, begged him to take physical action. He clenched his fists at his sides. “Tell me what I have to do.”
Fiona nodded. “You said that you’d kill anyone who tried to harm Evie. Did you mean that?”
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