I feel the knife cut through my ring and little fingers, but my eyes are too full of tears to see. I want to cry, to beg, but I’m frozen, unable to move or speak. Please let me pass out before he continues…
He wipes the tears from my eyes with a cloth. “Now, did that hurt more or less?” His brown eyes meet mine, and I try to look away but can’t. “Oh well, let’s try again.”
His wickedly sharp knife slices through my thumb, and he holds my hand in front of my face so I can see the bloody stump. More tears fill my eyes and fall down my cheeks. Please stop, oh please, God, help me! Please… please… please…
“Does it hurt more or less when you see the damage?”
I try to close my eyes, but even that small comfort is denied me as my eyelids refuse to obey. He moves on to my left hand, and I try to float away, to go somewhere else, but every slice of the knife brings me back…
LOGAN
I’m just about finished sifting through the rubble in the family room when Mr. Kincaid returns from outside. Violent crashes shake the ceiling. It sounds like something is slamming large furniture into the floor over and over. For a moment I’m torn. My gaze flicks between Mr. Kincaid and the hall leading toward the stairs. Mom appears beside Mr. Kincaid, shaking her head, having sensed my inner turmoil. Once again, I give in to duty though my heart screams to ignore my head and go after Kacie.
“There are four more kids in here somewhere,” Mr. Kincaid says as we enter the family room. “Blake found three upstairs. Those three and the two we just found are outside. They started as a group of nine.” Nine… just like the tarot card.
“Maybe they fled?” Mom suggests as she fusses over me, looking for new injuries.
“I’m fine,” I mutter.
“We’ll need to do a complete sweep, down here first, then upstairs.” Mr. Kincaid doesn’t wait for a reply and heads toward the kitchen.
“Wait!” My tone comes out harsher than I intended, but I really hate being left in the dark. “Why can’t Blake and Kacie sweep upstairs? Is she okay? What the hell’s going on?” My voice rises with each question. “I’ll kill Blake!”
“Stand down!” Mr. Kincaid yells. Though he tries to hide it, to remain professional, I can see the fear reflected in his eyes.
“Kacie…” I limp over the debris, making my way to the stairs as quickly as my lame knee will allow.
“Logan, you can’t help,” Mom says, grabbing my arm.
I wrench away. “Like hell I can’t.”
“Baby, you can barely climb the stairs.” Mom tries her soothing tone on me, but it’s a wasted effort. “Blake will keep her safe.”
“Where have I heard that before, Mother?” I regret the words the moment they leave my traitorous mouth. But the damage is done. Tears fill Mom’s eyes. “I-I’m sorry…”
“No, not now,” she says before covering her mouth with her hand. Her slight frame shakes as she fights back the sobs I know threaten to consume her.
“Mom, I—”
She stares at the floor and takes a shaky breath. “I know it’s been hard. Working with Blake, it bringing up memories. But you have to let it go. Neither of you were at fault. And now is certainly not the time to dig up the past.”
“We need you down here, Logan,” Mr. Kincaid says, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s finish our search and find those kids.”
I nod. Keep her safe, Blake.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Building Tensions
KACIE
I wrench myself from the vision, unable to stomach seeing any more. Coughs rock my body, and I curl up in a ball trying to fight the overwhelming nausea. As my mind clears a bit, I realize that I’m lying on the floor with Blake’s warm body wrapped behind me. I settle back into his warm embrace, biting my lip to stop my whimpers. The coughing subsides to be replaced by shivers. Blake sits up, pulling me with him so I’m cradled across his lap.
“Aww, the party was just getting started and you bailed,” Tracy’s spirit whispers in my ear.
I’m too spent to react. Good.
“Couldn’t stomach it, huh?” Her voice shifts to my other ear, and this time I can’t control the tremors betraying my fear.
“I…” My voice catches in my throat, so I just nod.
“What happened?” Blake asks, and I don’t know if he’s asking me, Tracy, or Chief Ken. “I thought it was just a vision.”
Ken answers. “Powerful physical mediums like Kacie can have very real visions. I’m guessing she saw at least part of Tracy’s murder. Probably felt it too.”
“But it was so much more than a murder, wasn’t it?” She directs the question at me, and all I can do is give a weak nod of my head. “Come, now, speak up.” Her fake, cheery tone is so at odds with what I just saw. My stomach roils again. No wonder the ghost is insane.
“Torture,” I murmur, burying my face against Blake’s shoulder as though that might erase the images I saw, what I felt. “Tracy received the professor’s full attention.”
“While sweet, innocent Angela watched… and did nothing.” Well I think that’s a bit of an overstatement considering the fact that Angela was bound and gagged.
A few deep breaths later and a bit of my composure returns. “I’m sorry. I know that’s inadequate considering the hell you experienced—”
She laughs, yet there is no humor at all. “Hell… yes. Did you know I relive the event constantly? I even have flashes of pain…”
“You need to know that Angela has suffered terribly as well.”
“Has she now.”
I realize my mistake when Tracy’s spirit darkens, turning into a wispy black fog. I should’ve focused on her longer, on her suffering. Angry energy crackles, raising the hair on my arms. What she experienced, just the brief glimpse into it that I had was overwhelming. Now she thinks I’m understating her ordeal.
“Please, Tracy, I’m not trying to—”
“I think you’ve said enough for now.”
A blast of frigid air rams into me. A tornado of swirling energy fills the room, picking up anything that isn’t heavy enough to withstand the wind. Blake’s arms tighten around me to the point of pain. I wrap my arms around his neck, hanging on with everything I have when that energy zeroes in on me. My hair whips around hiding my view of the furious ghost. The energy tugs at my body, trying to wrench me from Blake’s arms. But Tracy doesn’t know he isn’t an ordinary human. His arms remain steel bands holding me against his chest. The wind picks his body up a few inches and slams it back down, jarring every bone in my body.
“Blake, let me go before she hurts you.”
“Never.” We bounce a few more times then fly across the room, ramming into the wall. Blake takes the impact full on his back.
“Tracy, please, let’s talk. Tell me everything.” I glance around but can’t find Chief Ken. Where is he? Is he okay?
“Talk is so boring… this…” Her dark form looms inches from my face. I try not to react but I startle a bit anyway. She laughs, having received the reaction she obviously wanted. “This is so much more fun.”
LOGAN
A scream pierces through the house as I’m poking through a coat closet. Kacie? I brace myself against the doorframe, my fingers digging into the wood. Blake will keep her safe becomes a repeated mantra in my head. I have a job to do. Besides, I know Kacie can take care of herself…
“Are you all right, honey?” Mom asks. “That wasn’t Kacie’s scream.”
I nod without turning to look at her. “I know. The kids aren’t hiding in here. Where to next?”
“There’s no basement.” It’s Mr. Kincaid. His heels click on the wood floor as he paces. “We checked every closet, cabinet, and the garage. Nothing.”
“Upstairs?” I ask as I force myself to unclench my jaw.
“Upstairs,” Mr. Kincaid agrees.
Finally. I head to the staircase leading up into more darkness. My light sweeps the stairs revealing nothing but the blood-red stains left b
y our pranksters. The light doesn’t reach the balcony which is cloaked in shadow. When I’m halfway up the stairs, a figure appears on the landing making my stomach drop to the floor. I shine the light on the figure, tensing when I see Chief Diving Eagle.
“Shouldn’t you be with Kacie?” I ask unable to control the accusatory tone.
“She is with Blake.” He levels a hard gaze at me. “She does battle with the spirit. Occupying her so we can search for the missing kids.”
“She needs my help,” I say when I reach the second story. I head down the hall toward her bright aura.
The chief’s hand on my arm stops me. “We need your help. Kacie and Blake are fine together. You must trust them to handle the situation.”
“Why do you need me? It’s just a search and rescue.”
“I feel there is more to it than that.” The chief’s gaze travels across the ceiling as though he’s trying to see through the drywall and plaster. “I have a bad feeling. The kids are somewhere on the third floor. I don’t think the angry spirit wishes for us to find them.”
A loud thud echoes down the hallway from a room near the end. Silence follows. I resist the urge to head down the hall to make sure that Kacie’s okay. Moans fill the air around us along with the sound of rattling chains.
“For the love of…” I trail off, looking for a sign of Tracy. Why is she resorting to cliché ghostly noises? Nobody could possibly be scared by—
“Help!”
“Arrggh!”
Human screams tear through the moaning and clinking chain sounds. I guess our intruders are afraid of old school ghost crap. It doesn’t make much sense. As I follow the others up the second staircase, I can’t help but wonder if the drama is a way to separate Kacie and me.
KACIE
The fierce wind dies down abruptly, and I brush the hair from my face. I see my reflection in the mirrored closet door. Dear God, I look like I was caught in a tornado with my hair sticking up all over the place. My skin is ashen, my eyes wide. I glance at Blake’s reflection. He doesn’t look much better. I’ve never seen his skin so pale. His arms are still wrapped around me to the point of pain. I’m going to have some lovely bruises tomorrow.
“She gone?” Blake asks in a whisper.
“For now.” I send my aura out a bit, searching for anything unusual. “I don’t feel anything.”
“I guess we bored her.” Blake pushes me to my feet. “There are still four kids in this house somewhere. We have five more rooms to search.”
“I have a strange feeling… like we’re missing something very important.”
“Any idea what?”
“Where did the crime happen?” I pull out my phone and dial Rebecca, asking her the same question when she answers.
“Give me a minute…” Computer keys click in the background as Rebecca searches for the answer. “Um, we know it was upstairs because Amy fell down the stairs.”
“Which floor? The house is three stories.”
“Not in this picture it isn’t,” Rebecca says. “I’m looking at a two-story house here. The third story was added sometime after the crime.”
“Thanks.”
“I won’t keep you,” Rebecca says, her voice full of concern. “But you don’t sound well. Let me know if you need anything.”
I disconnect the call and shove the phone back into my pocket. Footsteps bang on the floor above us—the others looking for the stupid kids. But the real action won’t take place there. I have a feeling that Tracy will want to confront me in the room where it all happened thirty years ago. Blake nods when I share my revelation.
“Do you know which room?” he asks as we head down the dark hall.
“No clue. I figured she’d help us find it.”
More footsteps pound from above—several pairs of feet running, followed by a thud. Then silence. I push the next door open, shining my flashlight around, unsure what I’m looking for. It’s just another normal room: beds, posters, dressers, books… nothing unusual.
“What did I expect to find? Blood stains on the wall?” Though I whispered it under my breath, Blake still heard me.
“Yeah, I doubt anyone would voluntarily live in a room covered in blood stains.” He continues down the hall, then stops and backs up. Is he counting his paces? “Something’s off here.”
“What?” I look around the hall, unable to find anything odd.
“There’s extra space here… like something was closed off.”
I shine my light over the wall. It looks normal. A rectangular table sits in front of it, and several framed sorority photos hang on the light blue wall. I run my fingers over the paint. It isn’t until I step back that I realize how long the table is—at least five or six feet long. Blake is right, it is odd, and yet…
“It’s not wallpaper. Did you think we’d peel it back and find a door?” I laugh, but it comes out sounding more frightened than amused. “This isn’t an Edgar Allan Poe story.” As though on cue, Poe lands on the table, poking at his wing feathers with his beak. “And you’re a crow not a raven,” I tell the bird as he turns his red eyes on me.
“It wouldn’t be that hard to drywall over a door.”
“Well it’s not like we can get sledgehammers and break through the wall to check.”
Intense shivers rack my body. Oh, this isn’t good at all. All of my instincts scream that there’s something bad behind the wall. Just as I’m about to back away, a ghostly face emerges from the wall. Large and distorted, it warps and stretches like something out of a nightmare. I bite back a scream as the face morphs into a girl—Tracy.
“I see you found the party,” she says. Her hysterical laughter sends more tremors through my body. “Don’t leave yet. The fun hasn’t even started.”
She disappears, then pops back, enveloping me within her ethereal form. Iciness surrounds me seeping through my skin.
LOGAN
A scream cuts through the house, sending chills through me and raising the hair on my arms. Kacie—I’d recognize her voice anywhere. Why the hell isn’t Blake doing a better job protecting her? I watch Mr. Kincaid usher two frightened middle-school boys toward the staircase, clenching my jaw to keep from yelling at them to move faster. They’re frightened, I get it. But can’t they move? You’d think they’d want out of this hell house, but the way those two drag their feet…
When I hear Blake shout something incomprehensible, I push past everyone, taking the stairs as fast as I can. The adults can find the remaining two kids. Pain lances through my leg, radiating from my swollen knee. I grip the railing to keep from falling the last few steps. As I limp down the dark hallway, my eyes scan for any trace of my friends. There! Surrounded in dark gray mist. Blake holds Kacie against him, his arms straining as though playing tug-of-war. If that werewolf is straining, the force must be immense. Kacie thrashes around, her hair flying everywhere.
I freeze, unsure what to do. Rushing in full throttle could cause more harm than good. After watching the scene for a few more seconds, I shout, “Tracy!”
Blake flies backward and impacts the wall, Kacie still wrapped in his arms. The mist encircles me, the icy cold cutting through to my bones. I brace myself, waiting to be cast to the ceiling or thrown across the hall. Nothing. Tracy’s spirit evaporates, leaving behind nothing but a chill lingering in the air.
“I’ve never been the object of tug-of-war before,” Kacie murmurs, rubbing the back of her head. It must have banged against Blake’s shoulder when he hit the wall.
“At least you weren’t embedded in a wall,” Blake says, eyeing the hole in the wall left by his body.
“I think I broke my head on your shoulder.”
I pull Kacie to her feet, enfolding her in my arms. “Are you okay?”
“Thanks to Blake.” She shivers in my embrace, wrapping her arms around me and clutching my back. “She keeps trying to possess me. Doesn’t realize I’ve dealt with so much worse than her.” She leans in close, her wor
ds barely a whisper. “She’s really strong. I’m scared.”
“Your skin is like ice.” I place both palms on her pink cheeks, trying to warm her up.
“Yeah, I’m fine over here,” Blake says as he pushes to his feet. “Don’t mind the werewolf-sized hole in the wall.”
Ignoring him, I lean down and kiss her cold nose as she continues to tremble in my arms. He stalks over to the other wall, shoving a long table out of the way. It flies down the hall, landing on its side. Looks like Tracy managed to piss off Blake—not like it’s that hard or anything.
“She got all pissy when I said I’d break down this wall,” he says, knocking on the wood. “I think that’s just what I’ll do.”
“I thought she wanted to lead us to the place she died,” Kacie says, stepping away. My arms fall to my sides as she moves to the wall, running her fingers along the paint. “But I think she was protecting it, keeping us away for some reason.”
Loud crashes bang from downstairs one after the other. When we don’t move or react, more banging, crashing, and thudding follows.
“See, she’s trying to distract us.” Kacie knocks on the wall. “It’s like she’s throwing a tantrum… What could be behind here that she wants to protect so badly?”
Kacie’s phone rings.
“You’re on speaker, Rebecca. What did you find out?”
“Tracy was cremated. Her remains are in a mausoleum at Haven Head Cemetery. I mean it’s not like we’d go dig up a grave anyway, but that’s definitely not an option here.”
“You don’t actually dig up graves do you?” Blake asks with wide eyes.
“No, of course not.” I snap at him. “This isn’t a TV show. Can you imagine us in a graveyard in the middle of the night with shovels? Please… besides, modern caskets are sealed and you need equipment to get them out. We’d need a court order.”
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