Origins (The Grimm Cases Book 1)

by Lyla Oweds

  About twenty minutes later, my curiosity got the better of me. It had been silent outside for so long there was no way they were still around.

  Still, I was wary when I opened the front door.

  Nobody jumped out at me, but they hadn’t left without making their mark. There—where they had been standing—was the bouquet and a note.

  Sorry that Titus is an idiot. Also, I’m sorry that we laughed. We didn’t mean to offend you. And we weren’t making fun of you—it’s complicated. We’ll explain later. But we want you to know that you’re not alone. We believe you, and we’ll help you if you give us a chance. Please think it over and let Damen know.

  I frowned in confusion at the weird note. It wasn’t fair they’d say it like that—dangling acceptance in front of me as bait.

  How could they have known I needed acceptance more than flowers or chocolates? It was the only trap I had the possibility of falling into.

  Besides all that, what did it even mean to ‘let Damen know’? Let him know what—or when? I certainly had no intention of seeing him anytime soon.

  Wonderful. Now I had something else to worry about.

  It wasn’t long before my not-so-friendly ghost-friend decided to come out to play. I had foolishly hoped it had given up because the entire time Miles and Titus were outside, it remained hidden. But it was too good to be true, and I sensed its presence again. Where it was at the exact moment, I couldn’t pinpoint.

  So now, along with being on edge from feeling of being watched by the house-ghost, I spent the rest of the evening reflecting on the events of the day. Conclusion? I might have overreacted a tiny bit. Probably.

  But it didn’t matter if I had overreacted. While the guys—sans Titus—might have had good intentions, it would simply be too embarrassing to work with them now. Besides, they obviously had a serious issue with my relationship with Finn—and their attitude really offended me.

  I had no other choice. I had to end this haunting without their help. So the day hadn’t been a total waste of time, after all.

  A sensitive, Damen called me. Of course, I tried to look into my abilities in the past, but nothing came up. How had Damen known? Did he know everything? Perhaps he was super smart, like Finn. I had to dig into this again. Hopefully, my trip to the library would provide some answers.

  With my planned research topic in mind, I finally went to bed.

  Something brushed across my awareness—like the sensation of falling in a dream—and I jerked awake, disoriented. I wasn’t sure what time it was or how long I had been asleep, but it was still night and the house was quiet.

  Everything seemed normal, so why was—

  Tap. Tap.

  The noise echoed throughout the otherwise silent room. A slight tapping. The sound a knife would make when tapped against a glass. While it wasn’t the most frightening thing the residential ghost had subjected me to, there was most certainly an unsettling atmosphere in the room.

  Something was different this time.

  The small bedroom contained a twin-sized bed. The head of said bed was under the solitary window, which was currently filled with the soft moonlight streaming through the glass. Some feet away from the foot of the bed stood an old vanity. It was low to the floor, and the most distinguishable characteristic was the large, oval mirror affixed to it.

  Professor Hamway was a collector of antiques—including small knickknacks. For display on the vanity, she had chosen tiny glass perfume bottles. She was also meticulously tidy, and the various sized bottles were organized on the top of two glass trays.

  Other than these items, a houseplant, and a small bedside table, the room held nothing else. Nowhere for anything to hide. And—thanks to the moonlight—I could clearly see I was alone.

  Yet, something wasn’t right.

  I had just pressed my back against the headboard, when the temperature in the room decreased. Again, the tapping echoed throughout the area. It was soft, but close. The sound definitely originated from this room.

  My breathing caught, and my fear escalated with every passing second. At the same time, I felt stupid for being afraid—I had decided earlier that I could handle this on my own. I wouldn’t be able to do anything acting like this. But I couldn’t stop from curling into a ball and pulling the sheet more tightly around myself.

  Tap.

  This time, I was watching, so I didn’t miss the slight movement on the top of the vanity.

  One of the bottles had been lifted into the air before being placed into its previous position just as slowly. This time, without pause, another bottle lifted. Another tap.

  I had no idea what to do. I wanted to run away, but at the same time, this was the first time I didn’t feel hostility. The lack didn’t make the situation any less creepy, but it was only that which made me pause.

  The scene repeated itself again—a larger bottle this time—when something else caught my attention. A shape, resembling the beginnings of a shadowed figure, began to appear in the reflection of the mirror.

  It was barely there—a dark cloud at the bottommost corner of the mirror. In fact, it could have been a trick of the light. But somehow, I knew better.

  The bottles weren’t touched again. But as seconds passed, the shadowy figure began to grow in size and visibility. It continued to grow until, at one point, it almost passed as the blurred reflection of a child-like figure.

  Nope. It was past the time to leave! I moved up in the bed slowly, trying to not draw attention to myself as I uncurled and touched my toes to the wood floor. My slippers were there at the bedside, so I pushed my feet into them and—just as silently—began to inch myself out of the bed.

  Sleeping outside seemed like an excellent plan! I just needed to get there without being noticed.

  Unfortunately, I only made it to the foot of the bed before a floorboard creaked beneath me, the sound echoing loudly throughout the room. The figure, which had been swaying slightly in front of the mirror, froze.

  I couldn’t breathe from fear.

  A long moment passed, and another. The air became tangible as the atmosphere shifted. While I hadn’t been the focus of the ghost’s attention before, I certainly was now.

  Everything inside of me screamed to run—to hide. Ignoring problems and pretending that nothing was wrong, for me, usually resulted in those issues going away. Following that instinct was how I had survived so far.

  But…hadn’t I decided earlier I had to figure this out on my own? Nothing was going to change. I’d never learn anything if I kept going on with the status quo.

  I had done many things outside of my comfort zone the last couple of days. Why not this? I could muster up the courage to confront this ghost-child directly!

  Keeping that in mind, I forced my pounding heart to calm as I took a deep breath. My nerves steadied after a tense moment, and I straightened up from my hunched position.

  “Hello.” I held out my hand in front of me in a placating manner as I faced the mirror. Trepidation and curiosity thickened the air, but I still wasn’t feeling anything hostile from the spirit.

  “Are you lost?” I asked.

  The room grew impossibly colder, and I shuddered as my breath became visible. Yet the shape didn’t move. So I didn’t either. I had never had this happen before, so I had no idea what to expect.

  A tense moment passed, and I remained still outside of my shallow breaths and shivering. Then, suddenly, a translucent outline formed in the space near the vanity. Still, whatever it was couldn’t be powerful, because I was still unable to make out more than the fact that the shape was female.

  And she was looking right back at me, just as scared as I was.

  Then, the fear retreated as sorrow and grief touched my senses—a mixture of us both. After all, one of the symptoms of my sensitivity seemed to be the ability to feel the emotions of the spirits around me.

  “It’s all right,” I told her. I had made the right decision to stay. This spirit, at least, didn’t mean me
any harm. “Why are you here?”

  Even through her indistinguishable features, I knew she was watching me—curious. However, she still made no move to respond.

  I frowned, unsure of what to do next. What if she didn’t know how to communicate? That would make things more difficult.

  She continued to study me for a time before a spike of fear shot through the room. Then she was gone. There was nothing left in her place.

  No shadow. No shape.

  Nothing.

  Just me, watching my own frazzled reflection in the mirror.

  Chapter Six

  Research

  It was way too early for any sane person to be awake, but I found myself in such a state. It was only through the power of overpriced coffee, and the ghost-child’s antics, I remained out of bed.

  Instead, I found myself waiting at the coffee shop—counting down the moments before the library opened and I could begin my research.

  So someone—a little girl—haunted my professor’s home.

  Now, more than ever, I was determined to find answers. A child had no business spending their afterlife as a ghost.

  The problem was, I really had no idea how to help. Maybe if she reached closure she would move on. My best bet would be to figure out her name. If I could find out if a little girl had died in the house, then everything else might fall into place.

  This could be a difficult task; the house was fairly old and had a long history of owners. Its most recent renovation had apparently been the talk of the town, considering the home had been uninhabited before Professor Hamway’s husband—an architect and city official—acquired the place.

  The fact that Black Hollows was a small town might make my search go more quickly. And also, this home was of particular historic import. If something tragic had happened there, then there must be a record of the event.

  To find that information, I would probably have to access the periodical archives—and I had no idea where to begin with that. However, I was willing to bet that Ms. McKinnen—the head librarian—would be able to assist. And that was only if she didn’t already know the information off the top of her head.

  Ms. McKinnen was a notorious gossip and heavily involved with the local historical society. I would only need to casually mention that I was housesitting for Professor Hamway, and Ms. McKinnen would gleefully tell me every horror story that she might know regarding the property. I would be able to cut most of my legwork by just talking to her.

  Then there was my second reason for being at the library today. If I truly wanted to help this ghost-girl, then I needed to learn more about my sensitivity and any abilities that gave me—and people like me.

  I frowned down at the top of my white coffee cup. Remembering this topic made me recall the events of the night before—

  “Bianca?” Finn’s shocked voice broke through my thoughts. My eyes shot up. The blond-haired man was pushing past students in line at the coffee shop in order to reach my small, round table. “What are…”

  “Hello, Finn.” I smiled at him, hoping the guilt from my lies didn’t show on my face. “How are you? What are you doing here so early in the morning?”

  Finn’s mouth dipped, and he didn’t respond at first. Instead, he set his leather backpack on the floor and sat down in the seat across from me. “It’s not early. And I come here every day—to study. But”—he leveled a suspicious look at me, his gray eyes calculating—“you don’t.”

  I raised an eyebrow in response, but he continued, “I got your message last night. Why did you cancel our meeting? What’s going on? I was worried.”

  Sure. I could tell how worried he was when he didn’t even care if the ghost killed me.

  I picked up my cup and blew on the rising steam before I answered, trying to sound nonchalant. “I do have homework too. Plus, I like reading. It’s not unheard of for me to come to the library, you know.”

  “All right,” he conceded as he continued to study me. “But you only come late at night, when most people are partying. In fact, how can you even stand to be awake before ten in the morning?”

  Darn him, he was right.

  “The magic of caffeine.” I sipped on my coffee again, as if to prove my point. “Lots and lots of caffeine.”

  His lips thinned, but he nodded. From the wary look in his eyes, he knew I was hiding something. But he seemed inclined to let it drop.

  Instead, he pulled out his laptop and opened it—ready to do his technology thing.

  That was kind of nonsensical. “Finn, why are you setting up? The library opens in less than ten minutes. Won’t you just move again?”

  “Yes.” Finn began typing. “But that’s ten minutes worth of work that I’ve gotten done. I am busy right now, and I’m behind…” His voice trailed off as he frowned at the computer.

  He was weird.

  “I thought you finished your work for the semester already.”

  Finn distractively waved his hand. “It’s not that. Don’t worry, it’s nothing that concerns you. I’m working on family stuff. My mother needed me to check into something. Where did you go last night?”

  I ignored his question. “Your mom has you doing corporate work?”

  “Something like that.” He looked up finally, his gaze meeting mine. My heart suddenly jerked—he was displeased. But about what?

  After a silent moment, the look passed and he grinned warmly at me. “I’m glad you are here with me,” he said. And in an unexpected move, he shut his laptop and pulled one of my hands into his own. “I work better with you around. You inspire me. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Bianca.”

  I almost choked, and my face exploded in heat. This was the side of Finn that always managed to catch me off guard—the one that made me think I meant as much to him as he did to me.

  And every time, I acted like an idiot. “I do? I—I’m glad I could help.”

  “You do.” He traced his thumb over my knuckles. My face grew warmer at the action and his grin grew. “We should work together today. Are you going to be in the library all day? Sit with me.”

  My warm feelings vanished.

  I averted my eyes, unable to stand his intensity. He couldn’t know what I was researching. “Maybe…”

  “Maybe?” Finn sounded surprised, and when I looked up, he was watching me with raised eyebrows. After our gazes met, he let go of my hand. “You don’t want to sit with me?” He paused, and an expression that I had never witnessed from him before shone in his serious eyes. “Bianca, are you meeting someone else? Have I done something?”

  “No!” I vehemently denied, somewhat frightened at the intensity of his reaction. He was being terribly possessive. Especially for someone who had never even asked me on a date. I would have remembered if he had done so, because it was, after all, an event I had been dreaming about for years.

  Or, was he only upset because he was afraid I had replaced him as a friend?

  I was so confused.

  I fidgeted as I tried to think of a way to redirect his attention. “I have research to do today. In fact, I might not even be here all day. I planned on going back and forth between the library and greenhouses.”

  He rested his chin on his fist as he watched me. “You’re a terrible liar. The greenhouses are on the other side of campus, and you’re wearing a skirt.”

  I froze, the fabric he mentioned clenched in my fist. Finn was right, of course. I never wore skirts when working in the conservatory. “Um…”

  “What have you been up to—today and last night?” Finn studied me, his eyes demanding answers. “Are you lying to me about something?”

  I grew more flustered as the seconds passed. I had to think of something!

  He had made his point clear two days ago, and I couldn’t bring up that topic again. Even outside of meeting Damen, he’d never believe what Damen had said about me being a sensitive. Plus, if he knew I was involved in anything paranormal—especially trying to talk to a ghost—not only would he get
involved, but so would my parents.

  I couldn’t go through that confrontation with him again. Even if he—and everyone else—thought it was for my own good. It would break me this time.

  So I had to think of something that would guarantee Finn would have zero interest in being anywhere near me today. A topic that would make a male flee in terror. Something awful.

  “I—” My mental resources screamed out ideas, but nothing brilliant came to me. Lacking anything else, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I’m doing a research paper on how human placenta usage in gardening may or may not be nourishing to the soil.”

  Finn’s mouth was opened in shock, and my face burned. But I couldn’t stop now. “I have a theory that if you grind up the pla—”

  “Stop!” Finn’s complexion was slightly green as he watched me in horror. “That’s great for you, but I really don’t need to know anymore. Please.”

  Crude, but effective. It had worked.

  I tried to smile at him as I drove the rest of my point home. “I could still sit with you, if you want. I just think you’d find it gross. I might have to interview the librarian, since they know a lot. I was also going to touch on the topic of using a women’s menstra—”

  “Just, please, stop talking about this. This whole thing. Stop.” Finn had buried his head under his arms now. “It’s all right. I don’t care what Bryce has got you working on, but do your research far, far away from me.”

  “Oh.” I pretended to look sad even though the mention of Professor Hamway’s assistant professor, Bryce Dubois, caused my ire to rise. How would he act when we were married and he had to deal with this fact of life? “If you insist.”

  “I insist.” Finn stood up and gathered his laptop. “The library’s open, by the way. Are we still on for tonight?” He grinned at me again. “It’s not the same without you.”

  Tonight? Well, I did have a ghost to bond with. But I could spare an hour or two. “Sure.”