by J. N. Colon
The sound of a match and hiss of a flame sounded followed by the sweet scent of cigars. “You know her situation,” Whitmore said. “She sees spirits and she has no control over that or their behavior. Recently they’ve been scaring her. They can be terrible.” He was referring to the time Rufus brought me home from Madame Josephine’s, cradled in his arms, trembling. He didn’t know about the other times. No one did.
“I understand that sir, but it still isn’t appropriate for our future leader to be so vulnerable. Three council members other than me have already seen her inconsistent behavior and they think…well…”
“What?” Whitmore snapped.
“Well, that Rubi might not be suitable for…”
“Rubi is the princess,” Whitmore interrupted. “She might be a little unconventional, but she is fit to rule. And McCollum will be with her.”
A thick silence hung in the air for a few moments in which my stomach churned violently.
“I’m just saying it doesn’t look good for the royal family. That’s all.”
I turned heel and strode off in the other direction unable to hear more. Did the vampires think I was some crazy eccentric? Did they think just because I could see ghosts I wasn’t fit to rule? If I wasn’t fit to rule, did that mean Mac could dump me too?
A lump welled up in my throat and tears burned my eyes. Whitmore stuck up for me, I reminded myself. He still believed in me.
For now, but what if my three tormenters continue their vicious assaults on me. Or what if it got worse?
Chapter 17
Another rip and yank echoed through my bathroom as my torture continued.
Marci sucked her teeth and winced. “Oh, sorry Rubi.” She bit her lip, staring at the mess that was my hair. She’d been trying to tame it for the past thirty minutes while I sat on a stool in my bathroom. It wasn’t going well. If she kept it up I was going to need a couple pain pills the dull the ache in my scalp.
“It’s okay,” I muttered, trying to ignore the throbbing. “Maybe we should just watch a movie.”
“No, no.” She gripped a lock of my hair and started at the ends. “I just need to start at the bottom and work my way up. I’m sure it’ll work.”
Her smile wasn’t too convincing. Regardless I watched her reflection in the mirror work on brushing the knots out of my hair. Her black bob was perfectly sleek and shiny like glass—the complete opposite of mine. Her pale skin was porcelain beautiful without a single mar except the tiny beauty mark below her lip, which wasn’t exactly a blemish. It only served to make her more stunning. Her dark eyes were line in charcoal and deep scarlet colored her lips. Like Aspen, she was a classic beauty.
Marci was wearing an oversized sheer black top over leggings and leg warmers with boots. She looked like a mixture of goth and the eighties. The quirky look worked on her.
A painful jerk erupted in the back of my head and Marci gasped, her eyes going wide. “Oops.” Her hand slowly lifted, revealing the handle of the brush—just the handle of the brush.
With trepidation I reached back and felt the rest of it broken and lodged in my hair. I groaned.
Marci dropped the handle and began slowly digging the bristles out. “Okay. How about we just tie this up in a messy cute ponytail on top and then watch the movie.” A forced smile curled her lips, showing off more teeth than usual.
“Sure.” At least it would be out my face, if she managed to get it up without popping the rubber band.
After another twenty minutes Marci was able to detangle the brush and put my hair up into a messy knot on the top of my head with a few locks framing my face. It was cute and I was sure glad to have the pain of it over.
We settled onto my plush black couch and she popped in a movie. Little did I know it was called The Haunting of Carey Lane. Perfect. It was terrifyingly close to my current situation with my three tormenters. It was about a girl being haunted after moving into a new house.
I shot Marci an incredulous look.
She smiled tightly again. “Oops. I kinda forgot you could see ghost and stuff. Is it really going to bother you? I mean it’s not like the ghost are mean to you, right?”
Yeah right. “Most of the time they’re not,” I mumbled thinking of Dana, Robert, and Bronson.
Her perfectly plucked brows furrowed. “Did something happen?”
Oh yeah, they shoved bugs down my throat. Instead of admitting it I grabbed a pillow and crushed it against my chest as if it could protect me against them. “No. It’s fine.”
Marci’s lips puckered. “Are you sure?”
I nodded and flashed a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Sure. Let’s watch the movie.”
Lisa, the main character was terrorized by two ghosts in her house. As the haunting progressed Lisa and her friend began to investigate for answers. Now that I thought about it that was how most haunting movies went. They looked for reasons why the ghosts were there. In most cases in the end they usually satisfied the spirits and set them free by finding the murderers and bringing them to justice.
Technically they viewed me as the killer. Maybe there was something else I could do for them to stop their torment.
Without warning I jumped up, nearly knocking the bowl of popcorn off Marci’s lap. “I need to go to Whitmore’s study for something.”
Her dark eyes surveyed me with a mixture of concern and suspicion. “Why do you suddenly need to go to the king’s study?”
“I need to check on something. Wanna come?”
Marci stood. “Okay. I’m all for a snooping expedition even if it is the king.”
My brows furrowed. “I’m not snooping. I’m just looking for something…”
A smirk crossed her face as she looped her arm through mine. “Whatever you say princess.”
I sat in Whitmore’s cushy leather chair behind his desk, pulling open the drawers where he might have the files of the deceased. I didn’t know the password to his computer so I had to find the hard copies.
“What are we looking for?” Marci whispered, perching on the edge of the desk and kicking her boots back and forth.
“Why are you whispering?” I asked, avoiding her question.
She shrugged. “It’s proper snooping etiquette.”
I pulled open a drawer, spotting manila files that looked familiar. I peeked inside one and found information on victims from the poison, but not the three I wanted. My heart still clenched and a knot formed in my throat. There were countless others besides my three tormenters. I should consider myself lucky all of them weren’t coming after me. I’d really go insane then.
Finally I found the ones I was looking for, pulling out the three files that had now been separated into their own, titled with their names.
“What are these?” Marci asked, flipping one open, revealing the picture of Bronson. “Oh he’s hot.”
Not when he was dripping in slime. “He was murdered by the hunters.”
Her brow furrowed. “That sucks.”
“Yeah.” I flipped past his picture unable to look at his happy face when I was so familiar with the grotesque one.
She slid the other two files over. “Are these all victims of the hunters?”
I nodded, my eyes roaming over information on Bronson Styles. He was a born vampires and died at the age of twenty four. He had two younger sisters and a brother who looked just like him.
“Why are we looking at these?” Marci flipped one open, revealing the picture of Robert.
I shivered at the thought of being faced with his image, even his nice picture. All I could think about was the writhing bugs in his hand as she shoved them in my mouth. I swallowed hard, forcing the nausea away. “I just want to know what kind of people they were.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “Just because.” I tapped Robert’s file. “Read his and see if there’s anything to suggest he was less than a stand up citizen.”
“O-Okay…” she drawled out. “You mean like did he cheat on his taxes or mor
e like did he torture puppies?”
“Torture puppies.”
“Yikes. Okay.” She picked it up and took a seat on the other side of the desk. “I’m on it.”
Anyone else would have drilled me with questions, especially Demy. I was suddenly glad Marci befriended me even if part of it was because I was the princess.
Unfortunately nothing I found about either of the victims screamed evil ghost material. In fact they all seemed exceptionally nice. Dana volunteered at soup kitchens and homeless centers in New York a few times a month. Robert donated tons of money to various charities and helped build houses for Habitat for Humanity. Bronson took care of his siblings half the time.
“These three make me look like a heartless, selfish bitch.” Marci slapped Dana’s file on the desk. “I feel like I need to do charity work now or something.”
I sighed and leaned back in Whitmore’s chair. “The feeling is mutual.” Nothing about these three led me to believe they would be so horrible to me. It wasn’t typical ghost behavior. If a person was bad in life, they were usually bad in death. If a person was good—like them—their ghost was the same. It is them. There was no reason for them to just flip their switch and go to the dark side. At least not this bad. Sure ghosts can be vengeful, but this way over the top, horror movie style.
“What are you guys doing in here?”
I jumped at the sound of Mac’s voice. I’d been so deep in thought I hadn’t noticed the electricity now running up and down my spine.
“Nothing,” I said snatching up the files, dropping them back in Whitmore’s drawer.
Mac stalked in, his eyes surveying me suspiciously. He was wearing dark jeans and a black shirt all neatly ironed. His midnight hair was combed back in the un-Mac manner I hated. “You’re going to get in trouble for being in here.”
“Nonsense.” Whitmore suddenly strode through the door, a gentle smile playing on his face. “Rubi is allowed in here anytime she wants.” He came over and patted my shoulder.
I shot Mac a look, trying hard not to stick my tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at his father’s apparent affection for me. At least someone around here loved me.
Whitmore turned to Marci. “Hello Ms. Ives.” He reached his hand across, shaking hers. “How are you?”
“Oh just fine.” She batted her lashes at him.
“Staying out of trouble I hope.”
“Of course.” A mischievous smile twitched her scarlet lips.
Whitmore opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of papers. I was about to stand to give him his seat back, but he waved a hand, gesturing for me to stay. “You can stay where you are Rubi.” Whitmore moved around the desk and took a seat next to Marci.
“Hey, how come I can’t sit there, but she can?” Mac asked from his spot near his father’s liquor cabinet.
“Because Rubi’s the favorite,” Whitmore teased.
Mac scoffed. “But I’m your actual child. Your only son.”
He shrugged fighting a smile and pointed toward me. “Favorite.”
This time I couldn’t resist the urge to stick my tongue out at Mac.
He narrowed his eyes before turning back to his father. “I was dead. I returned from the grave. Shouldn’t I have some kind of special treatment?”
“No.” Whitmore motioned with his pen without removing his eyes from the papers in front of him. “And get away from my liquor cabinet McCollum. I know what you’re trying to do.”
“Does he have eyes in the back of his head?” Mac grumbled reluctantly inching away.
Chapter 18
Darci, Marci, and I left the dining hall through the back, the courtyard decorated for Halloween. Plastic pumpkins lined the fountain and orange candles floated in the water. Gossamer ghosts hung from trees, swaying eerily in the wind. Fake bats dangled from branches along with spiders. Someone had put devil horns on one of the cherub statue which was seriously wrong and creepy. Twisting fog glided through the grounds, but that was always there.
Marci linked her arm through mine. “What are you going to be for Halloween Rubi?”
“Um… nothing.” I wasn’t doing anything but sitting at home.
Darci peered down at me. “You’re not going to the dance?”
“Definitely not.” The last Halloween dance I attended at Highland was the night Mac saved me from Brant. It was also the first time I had his blood. I knew that wouldn’t happen this time.
Marci clucked her teeth. “Why not? It’ll be so much fun.”
“Yeah. Why not Rubi.” Darci slid his arm through mine on the other side so I was sandwiched between them. “I could be Clyde and you could be my Bonnie.”
Marci scoffed. “Oh please. You’re going to be Romeo. I saw the costumes you had save on your computer.”
Darci’s cheeks pinked and he rubbed the back of his neck. “So, maybe I was. Girl’s dig Romeo, right?”
He looked adorable when he was embarrassed. “Of course,” I said, patting his arm.
“You’ll be my Juliet then?” His dark eyes glittered down at me pleadingly.
“I’m sorry Darci. I just don’t want to go. I’m sure you’ll find someone else.” I peered over at his twin sister. “Who does he like?”
She shrugged. “He likes anything with boobs.”
“Hey!” Darci reached across me and smacked her arm. “Not true. She’s got to have something between the ears too.”
The two siblings began bickering, their voices bouncing off either side of me. My eyes trailed the scenery as we walked through campus to our next class, the multicolored leaves swaying rhythmically in the cool autumn breeze. We left the path a few moments ago, taking a short cut. If I had been alone I would have stayed on the path no matter how late it made me. I had way too many bad occurrence happen at Highland when I strayed from the lit routes.
We passed closely by a tree, something dark and liquid running down it. I swallowed hard. It must be sap.
We passed by more trees. It wasn’t sap. It was blood.
An icy chill drifted down my spine, prickling my flesh. The twins continued their arguing, oblivious to the blood I was seeing.
Of course they were. They weren’t being haunted.
The deeper we went the more oozed out of the bark, running down and pooling on the roots.
Marci squeezed my arm. “Hey, you okay?”
I glanced at her flinching at what I saw. A bloody handprint glistened on her face, the red contrasting blindingly against her pale skin. Her lack of a reaction told me it was only a hallucination. “S-Sure,” I muttered looking forward, more bleeding trees lining our path.
I frantically blinked my eyes, trying to rid my vision of the illusions without success. The only change was the familiar, skin crawling female laugh that I knew belonged to Dana.
My pencil was drawing swirls and checker patterns—no rainbows and daisies for me—on my notebook during English, drowning out the Professor’s monotone voice. I couldn’t concentrate in any of my classes. The conversation between Whitmore and Anton about my sanity or lack thereof kept repeating in my head.
These three ghosts were the reason I appeared so unstable. I didn’t understand. I never experienced anything this bad. It was like they were possessed by evil spirits.
Could spirits be controlled by other spirits? I shivered at the thought.
A familiar, rumbling chuckle caught my attention and I glanced over to see Mac shooting Sasha a grin to which she responded with a coy smile.
A mixture of sadness and anger crept along my insides. That should be me he was flirting with. He should be helping me figure this ghost thing out. He should be sticking up for me with the other vampires, but instead he was playing with Sasha Svensson.
He passed her a note just as Madison appeared, snatching it right out her fragile hands and flicking it my way. Mac’s eyes narrowed on me, irritated at my ghostly interference.
I quietly opened the note, part of me dreading the content.
I r
ecognized Mac’s looping handwriting.
Come over on Friday night and hang out with me.
Sasha wrote back.
What about Rubi?
Mac.
What about Rubi?
Acid burned up my throat and tears blurred my eyes. Every word was like a silver knife stabbing my heart, ripping open my chest. This shouldn’t be happening. I’d been through Mac’s death and now he was back and I should be ecstatic. But I wasn’t. Every day he broke my heart over and over again.
I wasn’t sure how much more I could take—especially with everything else on top. If I didn’t have Demy I’d probably be hiding under my bed.
I took a deep breath, sucking up the anguish and let anger wash over my expression. I glanced at them, my eyes hard and lips thinned and made a show of balling up their little love note.
***
I sat down, cradled in the root of a giant oak, the bark cool through my sweater. The leaves created a multicolored canopy above my head, obscuring the night sky. Low, misty fog crawled across the ground and twisted between the grove of trees.
Highland Academy was two parts spooky and one part home.
I grabbed my Astronomy book, settling in to study the chapter on the moon’s gravitational pull on Earth’s oceans. Hopefully I wouldn’t fall asleep.
A root kept poking me in the back and I shifted only to have it jab me again. Arms suddenly slid around my waist, pinning me in an iron grip. With a gasp I twisted around to see William cradling me instead of the tree roots.
“Hello princess.” He grinned, barring his teeth.
I screamed and scrambled back on my hands. “W-What are you doing?” My heart pulverized the inside of my ribcage so hard I was afraid my bones might break.
“I’m just giving you a tip.” He stroked his rust colored beard. “Now pay attention.” William’s eyes turned blood red and his skin grayed, falling off in chunks. Sharp, fanged teeth grew, pushing back his cracking lips. His hands turned into claws, reaching for me.