Twisted Sisters (The Orion Circle Book 2)

by Kimber Leigh Wheaton

  Destroying a spirit board is never a good idea, not unless you’re looking to trap the spirit you summon to this plane. We need to banish the spirit, and then destroy the board. It will be burned to ash, the ashes scattered in several different places, at least one running water.

  “I’ll be waiting,” Daniel says. Though he tries to appear nonchalant, his face pales.

  Poor guy is going to have to touch the board to get a reading. I don’t envy his clairsentient power one bit. When I glance at Logan, he gives a little nod. I take Daniel’s hand in mine, lending him our combined strength. Anything powerful enough to make this much racket is not weak. Spirits are intangible‌—‌it can take years for a ghost to learn to manipulate the environment.

  “If I’m not out in five minutes…” Raven trails off, leaving the worst case scenario unsaid.

  “We’ll come in after you,” Daniel says, giving her a little salute.

  She straightens her back and walks toward the wide-open front door. With one last glance over her shoulder, she crosses the threshold. My breath catches in my throat when a blue armchair flies out through the front bay window. Logan’s fingers tighten around mine. Daniel races to the chair, placing his palm on the arm. A small tremor twitches along his jawline when he glances back at us. It looks like we’re in for a rough night.

  Chapter Six

  Three Nasty Ghosts

  LOGAN

  Tension rises as everyone stops to stare at the armchair now lying in the front yard. Though the sorority girls are frightened, their overall fear level doesn’t increase much. Mine soars along with my hammering heart. Only a powerful entity could throw a chair out the window, but it’s probably best to keep that little tidbit to myself. No point in scaring the sorority more. Kacie’s fingers clench my hand to the point of pain, but I don’t care, nor do I let go. We will need to combine our power to deal with whatever currently occupies the Rho Gamma Pi house.

  I look on in horror as Daniel collapses against the armchair. Carl and Rebecca drag him away, but it’s impossible to miss the haunted look in his eyes. Every peek into the unknown carries a risk‌—‌we all know and accept that. It doesn’t make times like this any easier though. Kacie releases my hand and kneels down on the grass beside Daniel. When she pulls him into a hug, a surge of jealousy rushes through me. Unwarranted, I remind myself and potentially hazardous. We are a team and need to support each other, and yet all I can think of at the moment is wrenching her away from him.

  “I’m going to check on Raven,” I murmur to Kacie, taking off before I can hear her reply.

  My gaze travels to the sorority sisters, all huddled together near the driveway. Twenty-three of them, yet I couldn’t get a coherent answer about what happened. Melissa and Kendra mumbled something about murder but refused to elaborate.

  “Rebecca!” I yell over the banging from the house and the sobs of the girls.

  “Need help?” she asks with a wary glance at the house.

  “I need you and Carl to find out as much as you can about a murder that may have occurred at Rho Gamma Pi—” I cringe when a small end table hits the doorjamb. “It’s all I could get out of them. Try talking to them. You seem to have a way with difficult interrogations.”

  “My specialty,” she replies, flashing a wicked grin.

  Her smile is scary, definitely more so than many ghosts I’ve faced. Rebecca has a take-no-prisoners attitude coupled with fierce intelligence. I know she thinks she has no paranormal powers, but I think she’s a human lie detector.

  “Huge EMF spike!” Carl shouts, waving the EMF detector in the air.

  That’s it. I can’t wait for Raven any longer. Mr. Kincaid’s voice echoes in my mind, calling me stupid for rushing in not knowing what’s in there. But I’m in charge of this fiasco… I never should’ve let her run in without more information. Steeling my shoulders, I cross the threshold into the house.

  I stop and survey the scene in seconds, taking in the ridiculous amount of damage. The living room is trashed: sofa overturned, lamps broken on the floor, and the front window shattered by the flying armchair. No sign of Raven, but the girls said they were using the board in the kitchen. As I walk down the hall toward the back of the house, a ceramic figurine flies at me. I duck just in time, and it grazes the top of my hair. I’m finding it difficult to believe spirits summoned from a spirit board by amateurs could be this powerful.

  The family room is in a similar state to the living room. When I spy the sixty-inch TV on the floor in a smashed mess my heart thumps faster. These are powerful spirits or maybe even a rogue gang. That TV had to weigh over one hundred pounds, and it’s a good twelve feet from the entertainment center. No sign of Raven in here either.

  A fierce wind blows from the kitchen, slamming me against the wall. So much power. None of this makes any sense!

  “Raven.” I try to call out, but my voice comes out a hoarse croak.

  My body is freed as the wind dies down, and I race toward the kitchen. Something shoves me from behind, sending me reeling across the tile floor. I manage to rotate myself at the last second so my shoulder impacts the wall instead of my head. The wind stops the moment I hit the wall. As I rub my sore shoulder, a loud scream pierces the silence. My stomach drops at the sheer terror in that scream. Raven.

  Leaping to my feet, I search the large kitchen for her. When my eyes land on her, I blink a few too many times. This shouldn’t be possible.

  “Hang on, Raven,” I call out to her form suspended in midair near the ceiling.

  “Hang on? Really?” Her arms are splayed out to the sides, her long, black hair floating around her like a mermaid underwater. Though she tries to project confidence with her words, I can tell from her face that she’s terrified.

  “Release her at once!” I yell at the invisible spirits. “She has done nothing to you.”

  “Don’t you think I already tried that?” Raven bites out in between gasping breaths.

  “St. Michael, the archangel, def—” I start the prayer, but something crashes into me, knocking the wind from my lungs as I’m slammed into the floor. It takes a few dazed seconds to realize it’s Raven’s body crushing me. “Can you move?”

  “I don’t know.” She rolls off me despite her words, groaning. “Those damned spirits. Madder than cornered rattlesnakes.”

  “I can’t feel anything but intense hatred and fury.” I push to my feet, ignoring the searing pain in my side. After hauling Raven up by the arm, I drag her toward the back door.

  “Wait!” she yells, yanking her arm away. “The board.” Raven disappears beneath the long oak table. A few seconds later, she pops out holding the spirit board.

  “Come on,” I shout when I feel the spirits returning for round two. “Crap, too late.” An invisible force plows into me, pushing me back into the unforgiving wall. “Raven, run!”

  Something hits me in the ribs, banging my body into the wall once, twice, three times. My head spins from the impact. At least Raven made it out. A white mist fills my vision, and I blink several times. It doesn’t go away, only becomes sharper, more focused. Her form is wispy, ethereal. She would be beautiful were her lips not turned into a vicious sneer. I lie on the ground, waiting for her to make her move while she floats around me.

  “She lied,” the ghost whispers in a grating voice so at odds with her glowing visage.

  “Who lied?” I swallow around the lump of dread in my throat.

  My instincts scream at me to run, but I’m trapped on this hard, tile floor until my head stops spinning. I take a deep breath and bite back a yelp. My fingers fly to my left side. A hiss escapes my lips from the sharp pain‌—‌my ribs are broken or bruised. Either way it hurts like hell.

  “Earlier outside, your girlfriend, she lied,” the ghost girl informs me, her face contorted in malicious glee. “I can’t believe you fell for it! Kissing that hunk was a rehearsal? Damn you’d have to be a total chump to fall for that.”

  I ignore her mocking words. I
trust Kacie and Daniel. Right? With a loud groan, I push myself to my feet, clutching my side. Turning my back on the now cackling specter, I limp from the kitchen.

  “Aww, did I hurt your little feelings?” she asks in a mocking tone as she appears in front of me.

  My breath flies out through gritted teeth. After all these years, I should be past gasping in surprise whenever a ghost pops in, but I guess it’s just one of those things that will always bug me. Right now, this girl seems to be a bit more than I can handle. Dirty trick, playing on my insecurity. She must be worried about what we might do to evict her.

  “Sometimes the truth hurts,” another female voice says from behind me as I’m shoved forward.

  This time I’m unable to hold back a startled cry as pain sears through my side. I whip around to confront the newest presence. She floats above the ground, a mocking smile on her mangled face. The entire left side of her head is caved in, and her limbs bend at impossible angles. Another ghost appears beside her, pristine and white with long, flowing hair. She looks like she should be running through a meadow, maybe picking flowers, rather than glaring down at me with a scowl marring her face. Four dark scratches cover each cheek from her eyes down to her mouth. They almost appear self-inflicted, like whatever happened to her was so awful that she scratched her own cheeks with her fingernails.

  “Did we break him?” the new spirit asks, moving within inches of my face. A frigid breeze accompanies her hand as she waves it in my face. “Darn, and he was so cute too.”

  My mind reels in confusion. Never, in all my investigations, have I come across such an odd trio of spirits. Not only are they able to manipulate the physical world, but they speak so clearly. I can’t begin to imagine the amount of power they’d need to command to perform such a feat.

  Silence seems to work, and I allow the three ghosts to think I’ve lost my mind, while I try to make sense of what I’m seeing. They whisper to each other, pointing my way every few words. I’ve heard of spirit boards opening portals to all sorts of weirdness… but this?

  Chapter Seven

  Rescue

  KACIE

  Raven bursts from the house, the spirit board cradled to her chest. She lurches across the front yard, and I concentrate on the front door, waiting for Logan to appear. As the seconds tick by my throat closes, making it difficult to breathe. He’s trapped in the house with those evil things.

  “Logan!” I cry out, rushing to the open door. The door slams shut in my face. “No!”

  I pound on the wood until my fists ache. This isn’t accomplishing anything. I need to get inside now. While I don’t know exactly what’s going on here, my bracelet is pulsing enough to jar my arm. I can’t leave Logan alone in there.

  “Cici, stop,” Daniel says, grabbing my hands before I can attack the door again.

  “Let me go, Daniel! Logan needs me.”

  “Yes, he does, but you need to calm down if you want to help him.” He rubs the side of my hands where the skin is raw. “It’s bad, weird, and I don’t know what. These spirits are affecting you. Look at your hands.”

  My head begins to clear, like a fog lifting. “What happened?” I ask, shaking my head. “I feel… strange.”

  “These ghosts aren’t, uh, normal,” Daniel says as he pulls me away from the porch.

  “There’s such a thing as normal ghosts?” Raven asks. Though she tries to scoff and act tough, her face is ashen.

  Daniel helps me sit down on the grass. “You need to focus, Cici.”

  “My head feels so hazy.” I run my fingers through the cool blades of grass. The feel of the grass helps ground me in the present, and the odd haze surrounding me finally fades away. Deep breaths calm my racing heart. Now that my head is clear, I realize my utter folly. I was banging on a locked door when there was a massive broken window six feet away.

  “Better?” Daniel runs his hand over my forehead like he expects a fever. “Your skin is much cooler now. You sure worked yourself into a frenzy.”

  “I had help,” I mumble, staring at the ground to avoid his eyes. Those miscreant spirits will pay. “Those are not your average, everyday ghosts in there. Have you touched the spirit board?”

  “No. I won’t be doing it here.” Daniel runs a hand through his disheveled black hair. “I’m afraid they might gain control over me if I do.”

  “We need to regroup away from here,” Rebecca says, towering over us with her hands on her hips. “We’ve drawn a crowd. We’re gonna be on the news tonight if we don’t quiet this mess down. Suggestions?”

  “Security guard?” Carl asks as he drags the armchair away from the broken window.

  “Not good enough,” Rebecca says, glancing around. “We have to get rid of the sorority sisters and all these morons milling around.”

  “Termite tent.” Raven waves her hand at the house. “My grandma had her house tented last year, and the threat of poison was enough to keep everyone away.”

  “Like in that X-Files with the monster guy who covers the house with that red and white tent, then has his way with the female occupants?” Carl asks, his voice shaking in excitement.

  “Um, yes, and eww.” Raven pulls her phone from her jacket pocket. “I’ll call Mr. Kincaid and get it set up.”

  I watch her storm off toward the street. “Inside. Now. I’m not leaving Logan with those ghosts one second longer.”

  Daniel drapes his leather jacket over the broken bay window. “Then may I suggest you climb in through here rather than banging more on the door?”

  He boosts me up, and I half-stumble, half-jump through. Something knocks me forward as I land, sending my body careening into a nearby, upended sofa. My elbow cracks against the wooden leg, and pain shoots up into my shoulder. I bite my lip to keep from yelling. Those ghosts won’t get a reaction from me… well not much of one anyway.

  “Stay out there,” I yell to Daniel who is clamoring through the opening. “They aren’t playing nice.”

  He gives me a quizzical look before easing his body back through the window. “I’ll wait here. Hurry, Cici.” His calm words belie the raw concern radiating from his eyes.

  After a few deep breaths, I push to my feet and head toward the back of the house looking for Logan. My head spins, and my vision blurs. The air is so heavy around me, like a tangible pressure. When I reach the family room, I can’t contain my gasp. Utter destruction. I’m about to continue to the kitchen when I hear a muffled groan.

  “Logan, is that you?” I call out into the eerie silence.

  “Over here.” His reply is soft, pained.

  Furniture is stacked haphazardly in an amazing array, like a real-life Jenga game, ready to tumble with even the slightest touch. I squeeze between an end table and the remains of a big-screen TV, careful to keep my body from touching them. Pieces of glass from several broken lamps crunch under my feet as I follow the sound of Logan’s labored breathing. I find him sprawled against the fireplace, the brick mantel in pieces covering his body.

  “Oh God, Logan, where are you hurt?” I ask while flinging bricks from his body.

  “My ribs… bruised or broken… my fingers…” He holds up his left hand. His middle and ring fingers both appear to be broken. His eyes widen. “Crap! They’re back.”

  My hair whips around my face as the spirits appear in a small whirlwind. Dark whispers fill the air around us, too soft to make out the words but menacing nonetheless. Ignoring them, I continue to remove the bricks from Logan’s battered body. Fear fills his eyes, and I silently implore him to ignore the intruders. They’ve had enough attention for one day. There’s a good chance our fear is feeding them, fueling their power. Once the smaller bricks are removed, I see the large piece of mantel keeping Logan pinned to the ground.

  “I think if we push this together, we can roll it off your legs.” Before I can get my weight behind the mantel and push, one of the spirits plows into me, knocking me on my back. Something inside me snaps. Anger, humiliation, fear, sorrow‌—‌all
the emotions I’ve felt during this annoying day at school and here with the uncooperative spirits‌—‌it all swirls around until it explodes. “Back off!” I scream at the invisible phantoms lurking nearby. “Leave us alone!” My aura flares around my body, an angry red. Within moments the air stops moving, and the oppressive weight lifts.

  “They’re gone,” Logan says, relief flooding his eyes. He helps me push the mantel off of his legs, and lurches to unsteady feet. “I hit my head a few times while those bitches were flinging me around.”

  I brush brick dust from his forehead, careful to avoid the deep scrape on his temple. The blood has dried in streaks down his left cheek and neck. Though I want to check him over, assess his injuries, we need to get out of here before the ghosts return.

  “How many fingers am I holding up?” I ask, holding up my index finger.

  “Eleven,” he replies chuckling. The snicker is followed by a cough which causes a pained groan.

  I wrap his arm over my shoulders, supporting some of his weight. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Eight

  Research

  LOGAN

  Two bruised ribs, two busted fingers, and a knee swollen up the size of a cantaloupe. And of course I can’t forget the lovely gash on my left temple and the black eye. At least I didn’t need stitches. I lie in the dark, trying to resist the urge to toss and turn. Whenever I move, a sharp pain shoots through my side. Maybe I should just take the pain pills Dr. Hayes gave me. No, there’s no way I’m staying out of this hunt, not after what those vicious phantoms did to me. Pills will only cloud my mind.

  Mom and Dad are down the hall arguing… probably over my safety. I can’t tell; the thick walls muffle their words. Ever since my sister, Clarissa, died my parents have become a tad overprotective. Perhaps my injuries today were too much for them to deal with. Clarissa… it’s been almost five years, yet it seems like yesterday. Images fill my mind‌—‌violence, blood, screams. I shut down the thought, slamming the memories away deep down. I can’t deal with the sorrow and regret now.