“Thanks.” I take the flashlight from Blake, and illuminate him while he pulls another from a small backpack.
More flashlight beams brighten the foyer, as everyone gathers to survey the scene. Gasps, bobbing flashlights, and a softly muttered curse. I take a few steps in, shining my flashlight on the ground so I can avoid the debris. My steps are silent in my hiking boots. Blake joins me, making no attempt at stealth. He kicks and shoves the bigger pieces aside, clearing a path to the door within seconds. Another loud thud sounds from upstairs. I shine my light on the staircase, almost dropping it when I see red. The once cream-colored carpet is now crimson on the bottom steps. Gulping, I shine the light further up the stairs. Red continues as far as my beam reaches. My stomach drops. So much blood.
“It’s not blood,” Blake murmurs. “Mostly anyway. I do smell fresh blood, but not enough to kill someone. More like an injury bleeding.”
I shake a bit from relief. “Thank God for your nose. What is it?”
“Tomato sauce or soup or something. How the hell did that get on the stairs?”
I don’t bother answering his question. It doesn’t matter anyway. Maybe Tracy decided to move from flying objects to painting the house with food.
Or… “Oh, no. Please don’t tell me these guys broke in here to add to our pretend prank.”
Logan lets out a noise that sounds like a growl. “I think you’re right about the prank gone wrong. Maybe we should leave the punks to their fate.”
Mr. Kincaid steps forward, shining his light on the red stairs. “Can you tell how many people are here and where they are?”
“Nah, the whole house smells like people.” Blake shrugs. “My nose isn’t that good. These girls use so much damn perfume.” He sniffs again and lets out a light sneeze. “Makes it hard to differentiate smells.”
“Noise is coming from upstairs,” Logan says, glaring at the staircase like it’s the enemy instead of a ghost. “Think everyone’s up there?”
“I can carry you if you need it,” Blake says as though it’s the most normal thing in the world… to offer to carry someone upstairs.
“It’s really the down I’m worried about. With my knee as bad as it is…”
Deafening crashes followed by a low moan echoes from further inside, this time downstairs. I thought she’d already destroyed everything—what did she break this time?
“I-I can’t…” the pastor’s assistant mutters as she inches back toward the door.
“Rosalina, stop.” Pastor Emilio’s voice is sharp, and she halts the moment he speaks. “You can fall apart later when this is over. Right now we have a job to do.”
Mr. Kincaid moves forward, sweeping his flashlight beam around the foyer. “We need to split up.” He pauses when another loud crash sounds from somewhere down the hall. “Blake, Kacie, you go upstairs with Ken. The rest of us will check down here.” He glances at Blake. “Get the trespassers out to the front lawn. Don’t worry about them beyond that. Kacie may need you.”
“Um, I volunteer to watch them outside,” Rosalina says after a lingering look at the pastor. “I think I’ll be more help out there than in here.”
The pastor nods. “Good idea. Go on outside and wait.”
Rosalina doesn’t wait a moment longer. She races to the door almost tripping over the tent flap on the way out. The door swings on its hinges before slamming shut, shuddering in its frame. I cross my arms over my chest waiting for another sign from Tracy. Only silence. My fingers dig into my upper arms. For some reason the silence is more unnerving than the crashes and screams.
“You ready?” Blake asks, placing his hand on my shoulder.
“I hope so.”
“I’ll go first. Stay close behind me.”
“Wait!” Logan grabs Blake’s arm. “Take care of her.” He stares at Blake, his expression far too dark for the situation. And why did he put so much stress on the word her? Seconds tick by as they continue to stare each other. Something’s going on between them, and I can’t help but wonder if this might explain Logan’s aversion to werewolves.
“I promise,” Blake says before climbing the stairs.
I put my hand on Logan’s forearm. “Stay safe.”
After he nods his agreement I creep up the stairs behind Blake. The elder follows behind me. Our footsteps are muted by the carpet, but the house is at least sixty years old and the stairs creak under our weight. I shine my flashlight beam straight at my feet. But when I think about it I almost laugh. We’re trying to sneak up on a ghost who probably knew the moment we pulled up in front of the house. She knows were coming. And she’s waiting.
We reach the second-story landing, and that’s when I realize this house has three stories. Blake pauses, shining his flashlight up the second flight of stairs then down the long dark hallway. Any decision is taken from our hands when we hear a groan coming from further down the hall. Doors hang open on either side of us as we slowly make our way down. At each door, Blake shines his light into the room, doing a quick sweep before closing the door and moving on to the next. About halfway down the hall we reach a door that’s closed rather than open. Since the last five were wide open, I have a feeling that we found Tracy’s hideout.
Though my bracelet has been dancing nonstop since we pulled up to the curb in front of the house, it starts vibrating so hard it jars my entire arm. I put my hand on Blake’s shoulder and point to my bracelet. He nods, and his shoulders stiffen as he prepares himself for what lies beyond the door. My heart hammers. I hate this part of the investigation, of any investigation—the part where I know something lies behind a closed door, and I know it’s my job to open the door yet that’s the last thing I want to do.
Blake motions at me to open the door for him. He’ll go in first, protect us from anything that might attack on entry. I want to tell him he’s wasting his time. We’re after a ghost, an entity who can blink out and reappear anywhere, anytime. I reach for the knob, enclosing my fingers around the cold metal. Before turning it, I send my aura out, trying to feel the energy of the room. There’s just too much negative energy in this house. I can’t tell if Tracy lies beyond this door. With one last glance at Blake, I turn the knob and push the door open. It bounces against something inside and swings back.
He shoulders the door open, pushing against the leg of someone lying on the floor. I follow him through the door, sending my flashlight beam out to search the small room. Other than the body on the floor, the room seems empty. Blake kneels on the ground beside the body, a boy, maybe college age, maybe high school. The boy groans as Blake checks his pulse and rolls him over to his back.
“Help,” he says in a hoarse voice. “She… she…”
“Shh,” Blake says while scanning him for injuries. “Are you hurt? Can you walk?”
“My ankle.” The boy sits up with a groan. Now that I can see his face, it’s clear that he’s young, high school or maybe even middle school. “I-I think… I think it’s broken.”
“Any other serious injuries?”
“No.” The moment he replies, Blake swings him up over his shoulder like he weighs nothing.
“I’ll be right back, princess.” Blake gives me serious eyes. “Don’t leave this room.”
I nod. As I wander around the room, my light shines on the normal furniture and things you’d expect to find in a college girl’s room. Posters decorate the wall, and I grin when I see Avenged Sevenfold. A girl after my own heart. Though my bracelet still vibrates like a second heartbeat, other than the negative energy there is no sign Tracy. I sit down on the bed covered in a lacy, pink comforter, trying to decide whether I should open myself up to the spirit world. My shields are still up… perhaps it would be wise to wait for Blake to return.
“You should wait for your friend,” Chief Ken says as though reading my thoughts. Knowing him maybe he was.
LOGAN
In silence we pick our way through the scattered debris littering the floor. It looks like a tornado blew throu
gh, damaging the contents while leaving the house standing. How the sorority will explain this to the insurance company, I have no clue. Vandalism maybe? I resist the urge to look over my shoulder to check on my mother. She’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself, I know this, and yet the urge to yell at her to get out is strong. Mom still suffers from my sister’s death five years ago. With Mom, Blake, and me all in the same house, I’m afraid Tracy will manage to pick up on this and torture her with the heinous death over and over.
Crap, crap, crap! I’m thinking about it. Mom’s not the weak link, I am. I fill my head with images of Kacie in Daniel’s arms. There. She can think the kiss still bothers me. Unfortunately, the moment I think about Daniel, I remember my premonition. Now all see are Daniel’s cloudy, unseeing gray eyes.
“My, my, you’re just a mess tonight aren’t you?” Tracy appears before me, her spirit reflecting dark gray in my light.
“Tracy.” I tip my head, trying to remain calm while hoping she didn’t see my thought about Daniel. “You’re looking a tad drab tonight.”
She laughs, or cackles, yeah a villainous cackle. “Oh, I’m rather enjoying the new me. It’s exhilarating.”
“You should put more thought in when you’re gambling with your eternal soul.”
“So serious.” She laughs again before morphing her form and looming above me. “But I have other more interesting things to do right now.”
I control my breathing and keep my face a blank mask. She flickers in and out while swirling around me.
“Nothing? Not even a hitch in your breath… Hopefully your girlfriend will be more fun.”
She disappears into the ceiling, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from yelling at her to come back. I have to trust Kacie to take care of herself. Hell, she’s a more powerful medium than I am… though that could be more trouble than help. My thoughts are wrenched away from her when I hear a grunt coming from somewhere ahead. When I reach the family room, everything appears the same, other than the two guys lying near the broken fireplace. One is unmoving, the other sits up rubbing his head while groaning. As I approach, he sees me and lets out a high-pitched shriek.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m Logan Finley; I’m here to rescue you.” If the guy gets my reference to Star Wars he chooses to ignore it.
“G-gh-gh-gh—”
“Ghost?” I ask, wondering for a moment if he was channeling Shaggy from Scooby Doo.
He nods, then leaps to his feet and races past me into my mother’s arms. She hugs him, cooing soft platitudes. I limp to the prone figure, and lower myself to the ground. My knee goes out, and I fall the last foot, banging my ass on the brick pieces littering the floor.
“Son of a—”
“Logan Orpheus Finley!” Mom’s voice cuts off my curse. “Language.”
Thank God none of my friends are nearby to hear her shout my middle name. I ignore her and place my fingers on his neck.
“Pulse is strong,” I call out before placing my hand on his chest. “His breathing seems steady. Should we call EMS?”
Pastor Emilio kneels beside me. “I was a medic in the Army before I got the calling.” He examines the body without moving him. “Looks like blunt force trauma to the left temple.”
“He got hit with a flying brick,” his friend says, looking over his shoulder.
Originally I thought these guys were high school, but now looking at the boy cowering in Mom’s arms, I’m thinking middle school.
“He’s coming around,” Pastor Emilio murmurs. “Shh, there now, son. Are you okay?”
His eyes fly open, and he looks around frantically as he scrambles into a sitting position. Fortunately for him, Tracy is nowhere in sight. I hope Kacie’s not having too much of a problem with her.
Mr. Kincaid steps forward. “If you can stand, I’d like to get you and your friend outside.”
The boy springs to his feet, making me a tad envious. I guess the spirit wasn’t quite as nasty to him as she was to me. Using the broken mantel, I push myself back to my feet. As I dust off my jeans, a gust of icy wind blows by, completing the task for me.
“Aww, you took away my fun,” Tracy says, her dark form swirling around me. “Now I guess I’ll have to play with you!”
Loud hisses break through the roar of the wind. Samson and Delilah appear beside me, their eyes glowing in the darkness. Together they swipe at the misty spirit with their claws, and she disappears, leaving behind nothing but an echoing laugh.
“Thanks,” I murmur to my new familiars.
As I lean down to pet them, their ears prick up in unison. Silence fills the air around us, and though I concentrate, I can’t hear anything. But the cats do. Their backs arch and their silky tails fluff up. Before I can try to soothe them, they dart off toward the front of the house. Are they worried about Kacie? Though I want to run—who am I kidding—limp to check on her, I force myself to choose duty over heart. It sucks on so many levels, but I have a job to do.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ghastly Vision
KACIE
Heavy footsteps pound on the stairs, and within moments Blake appears in the doorway. “Got him outside. Just hope your ghost doesn’t head out there.” He glances between the two of us. “Something’s going on. What did I miss?”
“She’s here… watching… waiting.” I send my aura out just a little. But that tiny crack in my shields is just what Tracy was waiting for. Before I can slam my shields back in place, she jumps me trying to take over.
“Kacie!”
I hear Blake’s voice calling me. I feel the chief’s hands gripping my upper arms. But I feel detached from my body—the first sign of an impending possession. Tracy worms her way into my mind and continues to fight for control. She shrieks before slamming her energy against my shield so hard that it wavers and almost breaks. I hold her at bay. Somehow.
“Stop. Can’t help you if you take me over…”
Tracy’s voice comes out a hiss like an angry snake. “Who says I want your help. Maybe I just want your body.”
“Bigger baddies then you have tried and failed.” With a burst of adrenaline-fueled rage I push her out. “If the Foxblood Demon couldn’t control me, there’s no way some tantrum-throwing sorority ghost will.”
Icy wind gusts through the room, picking up papers and creating a small funnel.
“If you were trying to piss her off, I think you succeeded,” Blake says, pushing me behind him.
I pat his shoulder. “It’s okay.” I lower my voice. “I know what I’m doing. Trust me.” I take a deep breath. “You want me to understand?” I yell to Tracy through the howling wind. “Show yourself. Talk to me.” I open my arms as though beckoning her for a hug. “I’m right here. Come on.”
Blake realizes what I’m about to do but too late to stop me. “No!”
“Let her do what she must,” the chief says. “While she distracts Tracy we can rescue the other interlopers.” He points to the doorway. Another boy and a girl watch the crazy scene with wide eyes. Too scared to run?
When Tracy’s powerful energy hits me, I’m knocked backward. But I’m ready for her, and I control my fall to the bed. Her memories flood my mind, and this time I welcome them.
Screaming. Blood. Confusion.
“Please. Please don’t do this!” Angela says through wracking sobs.
I watch, detached as my mind floats on a sea of confusion. I should run like Renee and Amy, yet I’m glued to the floor. Jeffrey continues to bind Angela with lengths of rope. She struggles, but he’s so strong, no amount of kicking or screaming seems to work. I should have gone home for Thanksgiving. If I’d been gone, I wouldn’t be trapped here in my own body watching him run a knife down Angela’s arm.
She shrieks again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. P-please stop…”
He tears a pillowcase into strips and ties one around her mouth to muffle her endless screams. “Are you going to scream for me, little one?” he asks me as he approaches
with the bloodied bowie knife.
My heart thumps so hard that my pulse roars in my ears. I want to scream, to move, but something is wrong with my body.
“No, you won’t scream. You can’t. I’m afraid you didn’t take LSD, my little angel, but rather a compound a friend of mine, a genius chemist, created. You find yourself unable to move, yes? But your mind is wide awake and so is your nervous system.” He laughs, a nasty, crackly sound. “No don’t bother trying to nod, I think you’d find that rather impossible at the moment.”
MOVE! Though I order my body nothing happens. I try to lift my arm, to move my fingers… nothing. But my eyes, those I can move. Why? I try to open my mouth, but it’s frozen as well.
“We’ll start with a finger.”
I try to shake my head, to roll to my side and crawl away. Nothing. I can’t even whimper. A tear falls from my eye followed by more until my vision is blurred. He lifts my hand so that it’s in my line of sight. Before I realize his intentions, he slices through my index finger and middle finger with the knife. One swift motion. No pain. But only for a moment. Searing pain explodes from my hand, but I can’t react or scream. He stares into my eyes as though studying my reaction. Blood spurts from the stumps, coating my hand and arm.
“Hmm, can’t have you bleeding to death.”
He grabs a strip from the shredded pillowcase and wraps it around my upper arm. With a pencil, he creates a crude tourniquet to control the bleeding. The pressure builds on my arm with each twist of the pencil until it snaps. Relief floods through me as the awful pressure is released. Short lived. When he turns his back to rifle through the closet, I urge my deadened body to move. Nothing, not even a twitch. My heart rate slows as the drug takes deeper hold on my body. Maybe I’ll die, stop breathing. But no. My lungs continue to take in shallow breaths of air. The monster returns with a piece of wooden hanger and twists the tourniquet back in place.
“Now I’d like to know if the next fingers hurt the same, more, or less with the tourniquet in place,” he says as he raises my hand up again. “Perhaps you can answer my questions with your eyes. We have lots of fingers and toes to work with before moving on. So plenty time to practice our communication.”
Twisted Sisters (The Orion Circle Book 2) Page 13