Twisted Sisters (The Orion Circle Book 2)

by Kimber Leigh Wheaton

  “Massacre,” Daniel murmurs.

  “Yeah, basically. From what I gathered, Ms. Baxter was dosed with LSD that night, so it was probably more of a nightmare than reality.” She releases a heavy sigh. “No, more like a nightmare come to life. It would be bad enough to witness the torture and murder of your three best friends, but to be under the effects of LSD… I just can’t imagine. She was at the trial, even called as a witness, but she didn’t make it through the entire trial.”

  “Why?” Logan asks.

  “She broke down, complete mental disassociation. I guess hearing what actually happened from the prosecution was just too much for her. Didn’t matter though, it was basically an open and shut case.”

  “So how do we keep her from breaking again?” Logan asks as he drums nervous fingers on the armrest.

  “We can’t,” I say in a whisper. “All we can do is hope she wants to help her friends enough that it keeps her from falling apart.”

  Daniel bangs his hand on the steering wheel. “This sucks!”

  “No shit,” Rebecca agrees.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Angela

  LOGAN

  My finger hovers over the doorbell, refusing to move the extra inch or so needed to push the button. This poor woman has probably spent her whole life recovering from that one traumatic time. Where the hell do I get off coming here to dredge it all back up? Kacie’s fingers close around mine, and she leans into my back.

  “Ms. Baxter needs closure too,” she whispers. “I know this will be hard for her, but what choice do we have. She is part of this whether she wants to be or not.”

  Kacie’s words firm my resolve, and I poke the doorbell‌—‌probably a bit harder than necessary. Seconds pass. It’s a small apartment in a retirement community… it shouldn’t take this long for the woman to answer the door. Just as I’m hoping she isn’t home, I hear shuffling on the other side of the door. It flies open, revealing a woman who looks as though she wears every one of her sixty-three years on her face. Deep lines surround dark, hardened eyes that glare at us. Her hair falls to her shoulders in a mass of messy, out of control, silver curls. Twin gray-and-black spotted cats swirl around her bare legs sticking out from beneath a garish floral muumuu. I blink a few times. She looks like the epitome of the crazy cat lady.

  “I’m not buying whatever it is you’re selling,” she says before closing the door.

  “Wait, please,” Rebecca says, placing her hand on the door to stop it mid-swing. “Are you Ms. Baxter?”

  “What’s it to you?” the woman asks, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

  “Please, ma’am, we need to talk to you,” I say in a soft, gentle tone, like I’m talking to a skittish dog. Before I can continue, both cats cross the threshold to wind their tails around my legs, while brushing their faces against my jeans.

  “Well, if Samson and Delilah think you’re okay, then I suppose you can all come in,” she says, stepping back from the doorway. “Animals are good judges of character. In all the time I’ve had them, you’re the only person those cats seemed to show any interest in. Odd.”

  Odd indeed. I reach down and stroke the backs of both cats. They stare up at me with matching pale, blue eyes. Knowing eyes… cats always seem too intelligent for their own good.

  “I know who y’all are,” Ms. Baxter says without turning as she leads us into a small sitting area. “Go ahead sit down. I’ve been expecting you.”

  “Um, how?” Rebecca asks as she sits on a faded, floral sofa. “How could you know we were coming when we didn’t until about an hour ago?”

  “Saw it on the news, I did.” Ms. Baxter settles into a peach armchair, propping her slippered feet on the matching ottoman.

  “What did you see on the news?” I ask, wandering around the small room. Only a few steps between the sofa and the fireplace. Not enough room to pace, and I really feel the need right now. Sitting hurts a whole hell of a lot worse than standing, even with my messed up knee.

  Ms. Baxter glances at each of us with an odd expression. “My old sorority house, the prank, the circus tent, all of it. You are with the Orion Circle, right?”

  “Yes, we are. I’m Rebecca Travers, the lead investigator. This is my team‌—‌Daniel Westin, Logan Finley, and Kacie Ramsey,” Rebecca says, narrowing her eyes. “What do you know about us?”

  “Everything,” Daniel says before Ms. Baxter can answer. His face is ashen, and he crosses his arms over his chest. “Sorry, I thought it quicker this way.” He nods to the coffee cup sitting on the table beside Ms. Baxter’s chair. “She’s been waiting for hours.”

  “Well, I guess that makes this easier, then,” Rebecca says, letting out a deep breath.

  “No, it doesn’t.” Daniel tips his head, scowling at her. “She has no intention of helping us.”

  “Now see here, young man.” Ms. Baxter shakes her finger at Daniel. “I don’t know where you get off pulling some psychic reading on me, but I—”

  “See my friend over there?” Daniel points at me leaning against the fireplace mantel, trying to take some weight off my swollen knee without scrunching up my sore ribs. “Those ghost friends of yours attacked him yesterday. Threw him into several walls. Put him in the hospital. They also pinned another friend to the ceiling in that sorority house. We don’t have time for games, subtleties, or niceties.”

  “But, how can she know?” Rebecca asks. “I mean we only came up with this plan an hour ago.”

  “She’s an intuitive,” I say, leveling a hard glare at Ms. Baxter. “She read us the moment we walked through the door… with the help of her familiars.”

  The twin spotted cats, sit on either side of my legs, still as statues. When those inscrutable cat eyes meet mine, they stare at me as if to say, took you long enough. They release a simultaneous, meow.

  “I’m sorry, kids, but this has nothing to do with me.” Ms. Baxter waves her hand in a dismissal. “Banish the ghosts like the last group from the Orion Circle did.”

  “Yeah, well there’s a problem with that.” I limp across the room to tower over the glowering woman. Her attitude is not what I expected, especially given that she’s a witch. Where the hell is her sense of responsibility?

  “If you think to intimidate me, I’d think twice,” she says with a dark, humorless laugh. “You look like a light breeze would knock you over right now, boy.”

  Daniel moves to her right, and she shakes her finger at him. “No closer. I know what your psychic power is. Psychometry. Am I right?”

  “I prefer clairsentient,” Daniel says, sticking his hands up his sleeves. “Unarmed, see?”

  “Where do spirits go when they’re banished from our plane?” Kacie asks from her seat on the edge of the ugly sofa. “I mean, demonic spirits go to Hell… I think. But what about the other spirits, the ones who just refuse to leave?”

  “Why would I care?” Ms. Baxter asks in a bored, yet frustrated tone.

  “Because three of your friends are suffering,” Kacie says. Though her voice is neutral, calm even, she doesn’t bother to hide her hands clenched into tight fists. “They died in such terror. The afterlife must have been so confusing. I mean they didn’t move on, but the Circle wasn’t called out until years after their deaths. Do they feel the same terror in an endless loop?”

  Ms. Baxter folds her hands in her lap. “I-I never really thought about it.”

  “No, you did think about it,” I say in a soothing tone. “You thought about it constantly, and it almost broke you. We’ve read your files. You’ve been in and out of psych wards for years.”

  “It’s my fault,” she whispers, dropping her head, so her long curls hide her face. “All of it… my fault.”

  “It isn’t your fault,” I reply, crouching before her. Crap. I forgot about my knee. The painkillers worked… at least they did before I went and did something stupid. I plop down on my butt to alleviate the pain radiating from my knee. “How could any of this be your fault?”

  �
�I’m an intuitive, a sensitive… that bastard, Jeffrey… I never guessed.” Her voice breaks as she sucks in a gasped breath. “How could I not sense the evil in him? I led my three best friends to slaughter because I was too starry-eyed-in-love to see the monster inside.”

  “Ms. Baxter—”

  “Angela, call me Angela,” she says cutting off Rebecca. “The Ms. just reminds me that I’m alone.”

  “Um, Angela… I did some research last night on Jeffrey Rosenthal.” Rebecca pulls a thin file from her messenger bag. “Did you know that he was placed in a special soundproof room at the prison for the criminally insane? Not only that but he still almost escaped six times. Six. Then during the trial… the DA’s notes indicated that he seemed to hold the jury in some sort of thrall when he testified. The defense attorney wanted Jeffrey to issue the closing remarks, but fortunately the judge refused to allow it. Though he never managed to escape prison after his sentencing, he did manage to escape his cell several times. And those were just the incidents I found in articles on the internet. Who knows how many times he came close to escape before they put him in solitary confinement. He stayed in solitary until his execution.”

  “I don’t understand…” Angela looks up, her eyes filled with raw hope. “He was… special?”

  Rebecca hands the file to Angela. “We have a doctor in the Circle who carries the power of persuasion. I think Jeffrey Rosenthal did as well.”

  “Shit,” I murmur under my breath. “Then we’re lucky he was convicted and executed. Do you think the doc could talk herself out of arrest and conviction?” Dr. Hayes makes me nervous. I’ve seen her use her power of persuasion on a hardened police detective. He turned into a docile pussycat with just a gentle suggestion. Scary.

  “I remember when he spoke, the entire class would hang on his every word,” Angela says, leaning forward in her chair. “Just like I am now… leaning forward… eager for every word he uttered.”

  “Yes, he definitely had some power,” Rebecca says, nodding. “We’ll never know the full extent of his gift thankfully.”

  Angela doesn’t seem to hear her, completely lost in her memories. “When he called me aside after class, I was so excited, proud, eager to do anything to help with his research. I felt honored that he chose me out of hundreds of students. Me.” Her shoulders slump. “Little did I realize he was just using me.” She looks up, her eyes pleading… I guess for understanding… maybe. “His research was fascinating. He made it that way. By the time he brought up using my sorority sisters as guinea pigs, I was already so far under his spell‌—‌it seemed a perfectly normal request. Why didn’t my power protect me?”

  “I don’t think we’ll ever know the answer to that question,” I say, meeting her desperate gaze. “I really wish I had the answers… but I don’t. Psychic powers are unpredictable at best. Wiccan powers more so.”

  “I didn’t become a practicing Wiccan until thirty years ago.” Her gaze moves to the two gray cats. “Samson and Delilah found me back in the mid-eighties or so. Egyptian Mau is their breed. Very rare. I felt their power as familiars immediately.”

  “Those cats are over thirty years old?” Kacie asks, her eyes widening as she watches the cats strut around, their tails twitching in the air.

  “You don’t have to believe me, but yes they are.” Angela pats her lap and both cats jump up simultaneously. “Familiars are magic, so their lifespans can be tied to lots of different things… but most common is the witch or warlock they’re tied to.”

  “So, I could have Poe and his flock for the rest of my life?” Kacie’s gaze flies to the window where Poe is perched watching us.

  “The crow is yours,” Angela says with a snort. “I thought it an ill omen when he seemed so interested in us. I’m glad he’s your familiar instead.”

  “How will I ever explain a flock of birds following me everywhere?” Kacie drops her face into her hands, making me chuckle. She has a tendency toward melodrama‌—‌must be the actress in her. “Glad you think this is funny.”

  I bite my lip and try to keep a straight face. “Sorry.”

  She peeks out at me between her fingers, a brash grin on her face. “You’re so easy.” Her laughter drops the tension level in the room. I hadn’t realized how stifling the air had become.

  “All joking aside,” Rebecca says while digging through her messenger bag. “We have a problem, and we need your help, Angela.”

  Angela straightens in her chair. “No.”

  “No?” Rebecca’s voice carries her shock, along with a touch of bewilderment.

  “I’m not going back to that house, and I’m not facing the ghosts of my friends,” Angela says shaking her head and her hands emphatically. “No way. I can’t. I won’t.”

  “You have no choice,” Rebecca says, narrowing her eyes into her evil glare. “You are the only person who has a chance to help them move on.”

  “I don’t care,” Angela replies in a clipped tone.

  “Do you know what happens to spirits who don’t move on?” Kacie asks, continuing her previous line of questioning. No one answers. We all know the question was for Angela specifically. “Angela, do you know?”

  “Of course not,” Angela finally replies. “No one can.”

  Kacie tips her head. “Haven’t you ever wondered?”

  “Stop trying to lead me somewhere and just spill it.”

  “When they’re here‌—‌sentient spirits‌—‌they still seem to feel the pain they felt in life,” Kacie says. “They have memories. It’s like they only lost their corporeal body.”

  “You can’t—”

  Kacie cuts of Angela’s interjection. “I’m a powerful physical medium, so yes I can know. For over forty years, your three friends have suffered when they should have found peace. They will continue to suffer unless you help them.”

  “I already told you‌—‌just banish them like the last Orion Circle group did.”

  “Well, see that’s a problem,” I say with a dry laugh. “We don’t know where they went when they were banished, but we do know they came back angry as all hell and stronger.”

  “What do you mean?” Angela’s gaze darts between us.

  “They hurt us physically‌—‌Daniel told you that earlier.” I try to push up from the floor, but between my ribs and my knee, I’m stuck. Daniel and Kacie rush to my side and help me stand. I glare down at Angela. “You can’t stick your head in the sand on this one. Your ghost friends have gone rogue and are in danger of becoming demonic spirits.”

  “Is that even possible?” Angela asks as the color drains from her cheeks.

  “I don’t know,” I reply, trying to keep from yelling. My frustration with this woman has hit its peak.

  “They’re your friends, shouldn’t you care more?” Kacie asks, probably feeling my frustration. I send her a glance as a silent thank you. I need to keep my cool if I’m to continue playing good guy.

  “Whether it’s possible or not is immaterial,” Rebecca says, slamming a file down on the coffee table. She smirks when Angela jumps about a foot in her chair. “They are wreaking havoc at the sorority house. They are a danger to everyone in that general area. If we banish them, they’ll go back to Purgatory‌—‌or whatever, and the next time they find a crack to squeeze through back into our dimension, they may be too powerful to stop.”

  “Well, regardless, it’s not really my problem anymore,” Angela says, lowering her gaze to the floor. “I’ve been through a lot more than any of you can ever imagine. No more.”

  “They need you,” I say, looking down at her bowed head. “They are all alone, scared, twisted. If they become demonic ghosts, they could spend the rest of eternity in torment.”

  “You don’t know that!” She glares up at me, her eyes angry slits.

  “No, I don’t,” I concede. My nostrils flare as I try to maintain control of my temper. “But neither do you. They need to go into the light to have any chance of salvation. And you are their last hope.”
>
  “I don’t know how.” Her voice is barely a whisper.

  “We’ll help,” I say before she can add anything else. “We’ll be with you the entire time. Come Hell or high water, we’ll be there. We’ll help you save your friends.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Back to the Lions’ Den

  KACIE

  Against the odds, Logan maneuvered Angela into a corner until she was forced to help or to admit she didn’t care. Uncomfortable doesn’t begin to describe the overall mood in the SUV. Sandwiched between a seething Logan and a terrified Angela, I take slow breaths in an attempt to quiet my racing heart. When I reach out to grab Logan’s hand, a cat head butts it away. My eyes narrow as I meet the possessive gaze of the Egyptian Mau cat perched on Logan’s lap. The other watches from the floor at Logan’s feet, bright eyes glinting from behind his calf. It appears Logan may finally have the familiars he’s wanted for such a long time.

  Shaking my head, I scratch the cat in his lap behind the ears until it lets out a loud purr. When it looks away, I take Logan’s hand, lacing our fingers together. The cat glares down at our entwined hands before turning his gaze to the blurred landscape outside the car window. It will be interesting to see how the cats react to Poe and his flock.

  Angela remains silent as she stares out the passenger window, her knuckles white from clenching the handle on the door frame. I want to say something encouraging or reassuring but can’t think of anything. Instead I lean into Logan’s side.

  “Are you ready to open?” I ask in a hushed whisper. Normally before entering a site, we prepare ourselves to communicate with the spirits. Quiet meditation and deep breathing to open the lines of communication.

  “Do you think it’s a good idea? I don’t want to open myself up to those ghosts again… and I don’t think you should either.”