Eternal

by Glass, Debra

  As soon as the ceremony was over, I hugged Laura and Waylon. Frank’s father approached and gave him a manly handshake. Holly threw herself into the arms of her boyfriend.

  “Don’t you want to come to my house for the party?” Laura asked.

  “I’m really tired,” I excused.

  “Are you sure?” Waylon asked. “I’d be glad to drive you.”

  After we exchanged hugs, Mom smiled at my friends. “Don’t you want to go to the party, Wren?”

  “I might stop by for a few minutes,” I conceded.

  “Let’s go,” Ella chimed, twisting and pulling toward the door. Her bottom lip protruded in a pout.

  “Go ahead,” I said. “Take her home. I won’t be long.”

  Mom patted my face proudly. “Be careful. No drinking. And no boys.” She shot Waylon a look of warning.

  “I’ll make sure she gets home safely,” Waylon interjected.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured them. “I can drive myself but I parked on the other side of the school.”

  “Okay,” Mom said. “Just be careful.”

  I slipped away, intent on blowing off the party and driving straight home, but first I had to walk through the school building to get to my car.

  Laura turned to take photos with her parents and I made good on my escape. But the farther I got from the auditorium, the darker and more deserted the hallways became. My heels echoed off the concrete walls and metal lockers. I hadn’t really expected this part of the school to be deserted and I wondered if I’d be able to get out the back door.

  “Wren.”

  Startled at the sound of my name, I whirled. I peered into the shadows. “Who’s there?”

  My breath froze in my lungs when Briar stepped from behind a row of lockers. Terror gripped me. I hadn’t seen her since that night at St. John’s and my mind ran rampant with possibilities, none of which were good.

  I debated running for it but she was dressed in jeans and sneakers. I could never outrun her in heels.

  Besides, she didn’t look defiant.

  Instead, she was trembling.

  She seemed afraid. Gone was the wicked dark makeup and that godawful conglomeration of visible piercings. I almost didn’t recognize her.

  “What do you want?” I clutched my diploma. I knew after what she’d done to Jeremiah and me that I should walk away, and I couldn’t explain why I didn’t immediately do so.

  Briar’s eyes widened and her gaze darted around the darkened hall as if she expected someone or something to jump out at us at any moment. “I don’t know where else to turn.”

  She hugged her arms across her chest to stop herself from shaking.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, still too wary to let down my guard.

  “I…I need your help.” Her bottom lip trembled when she spoke.

  “My help?” I inquired, not comprehending. I should have lashed out at her, or at the very least, told her all the hateful thoughts I’d had about her over the past months. After all, she was the reason I could no longer touch Jeremiah. My eyes narrowed. I glared at her. “What could you possibly need my help for?”

  “He’s back. He’s back,” she said and again her gaze flitted wildly about the gloomy hallway.

  My lips parted and although I knew what she was going to say, I stupidly asked anyway. “Who’s back?”

  “Zeke Jackson’s ghost,” she said, her face horror-stricken at the mere mention of his name.

  I stared. Cold chills ran up my arms and legs despite the sultry May heat.

  “Please say you’ll help me, Wren.” Briar took a desperate step closer to me. She lowered her voice to a whisper as if the ghost might be listening. “He won’t stop until I’m dead.”

  About the Author

  DEBRA GLASS holds an MAed with emphasis in history from the University of North Alabama. A Florence, Alabama native, she is a tour guide, part-time step on guide for Shoals Tours, full-time freelance writer and is the author of over thirty-five books ranging from folklore to historical romance. Her popular Skeletons in the Closet Series have been regional and national best sellers. She has also penned several articles for Fate Magazine and historical articles for various Civil War Magazines. She has appeared on an Emmy Award winning historical documentary. During the week of Halloween, she conducts the Haunted History of the Shoals Ghost Walk.

  Debra is a member of the Heart of Dixie RWA Chapter, Southern Magic RWA Chapter, Romance Writers of America, and the Professional Authors’ Network.

  For more information, visit Debra’s website at www.DiscoverTheShoals.com or www.DebraGlass.com

  Table of Contents

  Epilogue