by Sherry Soule
“It’s fine. Really. I never would’ve figured a guy like you had a messed up family too. Look at you,” I said, gesturing toward him and his unbelievable flawlessness. “You’re all pretty and perfect.”
His head turned and his eyebrows shot upwards. “Are you serious? Me? Every man in that cafe was checking you out. Trust me. You’re hot. You have this whole exotic look going for you. Guys love chicks who don’t realize they’re beautiful.”
I stared into his eyes, losing myself in them. I drew in a breath. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“Yeah. So why are we arguing?”
“I have no idea.”
Evans came into view and waved. I opened the car door and Trent touched my arm. “Yeah?”
“We good?” he asked.
“Definitely. Thanks for lunch…see ya later?”
He bobbed his head. “Absolutely.” Trent started the engine, and I jumped out. I watched as he sped down the gravel road to some unknown destination.
The second I entered the house, a feeling of unease hit me. In the foyer, I pivoted around in a circle. Legs tense. Ready to run or kick. Arms trembled. Ready to swing or fight. My eyes caught the dark swish of the shadows. The stirring onyx canopy of the shapes floated overhead, darkening the ceiling. Red eyes blinked like stars. Shades made terrible whispery noises. I backed up slowly and kept my eyes on the swirling blackness.
The strongest urge to escape choked me. The fight left me in a rush of air from my lungs. I needed help. I couldn’t face Shadow Man alone. I backed up until I reached the porch. Saw no more danger. But I was still somewhat freaked. Warm breezes tickled strands of hair across my face while the safety of the sun warmed my skin. I stormed through the gardens in search of Evans. The tread of my footsteps was masked by the snip of shears on the flowers, a sprinkler running over the grass, and the soft skittering of squirrels. The afternoon heat was cooled by a gentle breeze ruffling the trees. Fragrance from the orange blossoms carried on the wind.
As I passed one of the landscapers, I heard him say to another worker, “We might be out of jobs soon, Carlos. Heard the Harts were trying to get a petition signed that would tear this estate down. Don’t know about you but I need this job. Not crazy about working here, but my family needs the money.”
The other landscaper—Carlos—glanced up, shears dangling from his hands. ”It won’t happen. Most people in town know better than to cross the town royalty. Maxwell Donovan’s hotel employs half the town. My own wife works there.” Carlos shook his head and went back to trimming the hedges.
I wondered if the Harts could really gather enough signatures to go before the Heritage Founders with a petition. Trent would be upset. Maxwell Donovan would be livid. No telling what Maxwell might do. He might have enough power to run the Harts out of town…
My problems seemed to be mounting. Yet walking amongst the graves left me oddly peaceful, and my mental stressing eased somewhat. Winds caused withered leaves to shower around me. Fragrances of moist earth, fresh paint, and recently cut grass somehow soothed me, bringing reality into focus, and the tumult of my fragmented thoughts rescinded enough for my mind to unclutter. And I was better able to focus on my situation. The good and the bad.
On the plus side of my list, my senses were humming and would warn me each time Esael or the shades materialized. I’d weaken Esael’s supernatural influence over me with my telepathic shield. Evans would be a friend. My mentor, and a source of information—someone on my side. I was falling head-over-heels in love with Trent. I irrevocably knew who the wraith was, Trent’s dead mother, which explained our connection.
Okay, so on the negative side of my imaginary list, I’d been marked for death by a demon. Trent’s dead mother was haunting me. How do I explain that to the guy I’m crushing on? If today was any indication of how Trent felt about the rumors surrounding Ravenhurst, there was no way I could tell him the truth. I needed to coax Trent into discussing it. Make him understand.
You need to understand it first, dummy.
I sighed. That would take time. The other problem was the supernatural power encompassing Ravenhurst combined with Esael’s old magick. I wasn’t strong enough to block their malevolent influence with my pathetic barriers for long. Not to mention the fact that I was marked. The big bad evil was out to get me. And I could be next on the supernatural hit list.
The negatives far outweighed the pluses. Not good.
My gaze lifted to the upper east-side window. Squinting into the dying sunlight, I could’ve sworn the lace curtains stirred and a figure peered out.
I suppose a smarter girl would’ve realized the warning signs, what with the eerie vibes Ravenhurst was already giving me, and just quit. But, according to Evans, I wasn’t safe anywhere. And I was crushing hard on Trent, and a serious crush could make anybody foolish. And ignore possible spooky, evil-like warnings.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Why do you make me repeat myself?” Evans said, throwing up his hands. “You need to utilize all your extrasensory abilities when attempting to send a belligerent spirit back to the underworld—”
“Do I have to do it again? Because these spirits don’t seem to wanna leave.” I faced Evans, my shoulders hunching. “And I’m tired.”
He sat in a chair in the library and rested his elbows on his knees. “Yes. Again.”
“Blah, blah, blah.” I groaned. “Like using Jedi mind powers, right?”
The last two weeks had gone by quickly, and Evans had been a patient and diligent teacher. Not only on architecture, but on the supernatural too. I’d struck a bargain with him, he’d tutor me on structural design if I agreed to two hours a day of paranormal lessons. Good idea too, since Ravenhurst was buzzing with activity. And I didn’t mean the reconstruction. My days of denial were definitely over.
Evans evaluated me from beneath craggy brows. “Please be serious, Shiloh. My examination of the history on Whispering Pines and the mystical disappearances points to something ancient and insidious. It seems the demon needs the souls of twelve innocents and the blood of a heritage witch to complete his ascension.”
“Did you say twelve? Because of the thirteen families who founded Whispering Pines, there are seven first born kids left.”
“Do you know them?”
“Duh, I grew up here!” I laughed. “This is a very small town.”
“Oh, yes. Pardon me. Senior moment. Can you provide me with a list of names? These children must be protected.”
“Sure. One list, coming up. But how are we gonna protect seven kids?”
“A protection spell. It’ll safeguard each of their homes. That should keep them safe until we understand what type of evil we’re dealing with.”
“There are different types? H—how bad can it, um, be?” I sputtered. “It’s not like I don’t wanna help. Or that I have all these cuddly feelings for the shadow-thingies I told you about—”
“Shades are hellish shapeshifters. Manipulative and dangerous. Do not underestimate them.” He smiled to soften his tone and lowered his eyebrows. “Now concentrate. Reach out with your mind. You have to hone your skills. Focus until the magick washes over you. Until you sense every particle of energy surging through your veins, before you tap into Ravenhurst’s aura. We can harness its power and employ it to protect the others.”
Closing my eyes, I allowed my barriers to collapse and permitted the magick to seep through my pores. Stretching out with my senses, I extended them until they tapped into Ravenhurst’s mystical energy. Evans chanted under his breath in Latin, and the air swirled around us and tousled my hair.
It was as if his words had conjured something enchanted. My perceptions sharpened. Goosebumps broke out on my arms. An odd tingling heat stroked my scar, and my body vibrated with power, which tickled my fingertips, itching to be released.
I stood tall near the marble fireplace and raised my hands. The tingling grew stronger, my body humming with mystical energy. Then Ravenhurst’s energy pulsed, sending
out a supernatural blast that knocked me on my butt.
I let Evans help me to my feet, and I dusted myself off, straightening my pink sweatshirt and ribbed white tank. “Ouch. Ravenhurst doesn’t like to be poked. I’ve pissed it off. Great. But I think it worked.” I faced the front door, but for a change, the sunlight didn’t look inviting. It hung overhead like an oppressive, white-hot blanket waiting to smother me.
Evans regarded me with an inquisitive stare. “Enough for today.”
“My powers are evolving. I can tap into the energy of the earth and my Native American blood now,” I said. “Well, thanks to your help.”
“Yes. A white witch uses the elements and nature to weld her magick.”
I rubbed my temples. Using my abilities left me drained and weak. Not good when evil was lurking about. Putting my psychic defenses back into place, I smiled at my tutor. My friend.
Evans stopped the lesson then and sent me off to buy sandwiches for the crew. When I got back an hour later, I found Evans sitting in a wicker chair under the shade of the porch, sipping ice tea and reading Bay Area Paranormal Phenomenon. He looked up and said, “A friend of yours is here to see you …Paige Jones? She’s been waiting a while.”
I hadn’t had the time to hang with my friends this summer, the way I used to. Seeing Paige, even though unexpected, would be awesome.
“Great! I’m gonna take my break now. Do you know where she is?”
He took off his glasses, wiped them on his sleeve, and put them back on. “Inside. I told her to wait for you in the parlor.”
I hurried up the steps and into Ravenhurst. When I didn’t find her in the parlor, I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted, “Paige!”
No response. I moved through the ground floor, glancing into rooms and calling her name. Shadowy figures scurried along the baseboards. Small balls of light bounced along the ceiling. Ravenhurst stirred. The shadows whispered. I strode toward the front door, hoping I’d find her inside. I went through the foyer, glancing into rooms and calling her name.
“Hello? Paige Jones—answer me!” I went upstairs and searched the rooms. “Paige?” I spotted her red purse on the floor near the open door to the nursery. “Are you in here?”
A putrid, sulfur smell struck my nose. Low maniacal laughter followed. I bit my lip. I didn’t want to go in there.
I’m scared and I really, really don’t like the bad vibes I’m getting from this room.
An icy blue mist screened the doorway like a barrier, despite the humidity lingering in the upstairs rooms. As I crossed the threshold, an instant chill slashed through me. I could see my breath in the air. Hugging my arms to my chest, I searched for Paige. From within the dim corners of the room, darkness moved ominously toward me. Sharp, maniacal, female laughter came from the shadowy depths of the closet. The giggles were rising and falling in vicious waves. Loud, shrill. Chilling. Footsteps drew closer. But it was too dark to see anything. My heart jumped in my chest.
“Paige?” I called softly and backed out of the room.
Then I saw her shoe. A flip-flop lay near the attic stairwell. My stomach clenched tight as a fist. I grabbed the shoe and clutched it to my chest.
Oh God.
I spun in a circle, then took off, searching every room off the hallway. But didn’t enter the attic. Taking a deep breath, I tried to block the low hum of Ravenhurst’s supernatural aura. My head hurt.
I can’t tune it out or turn it off. My gifts are awakening and stirring my blood with a forewarning I can no longer ignore. What the hell.
I stretched my senses. Probing Ravenhurst’s dark corners for my friend.
“She is dead. Her soul has been consumed,” a whispery voice said.
Enough! I opened my eyes and I ran down the hall, screaming, “Evans!”
He rushed through the front door as I was flying down the stairs. We almost collided. I gulped for air and bent over to place my hands on my knees to catch my breath. “S—she’s gone.”
“Who? Your friend?” He laid a hand on my shoulder.
I straightened and looked at him. “Esael. He took her. Took Paige.”
“What? No. She should be here somewhere.” He rubbed his chin. “Is her car is still here?”
“She’s not. I looked everywhere. One of those lost souls trapped here told me she’s dead. And,” I said, thrusting her sandal in his face. “This is her shoe. And her purse is lying on the floor upstairs. Why would she run off and leave her purse, her shoe? Her car?”
Grim lines marred his face. “I don’t know. Call her family and if she’s not there…then I guess we’ll have to call the police.”
He tugged me outside. I watched with a heavy heart while he formed a search party. Tears rimmed my eyes. I knew they weren’t going to find her. I paced and circled her abandoned BMW in the driveway. The driver’s side was unlocked. I slid onto the leather seat and cried. For over two hours the workmen searched the estate, calling out her name every few minutes. I knew Paige was dead, like so many others before her.
I suppose Esael can cross Paige off the supernatural hit list. Seven dead and six to go…
I stared at the upper east-side window. A slim figure stared. Looked straight at me. My blood chilled. The curtains stirred with the breeze, and I caught a glimpse of a girl. Huh?
Someone tapped on the window and I jumped. Seeing Trent standing in the sun next to the car sent relief through my veins. I wasn’t alone.
“How are you holding up?” Trent asked.
I slid out of the car. “Not good.”
“I’m sorry about your friend.
I steadied myself against the hood, feeling nauseous and woozy. “Yeah. Me too.”
“My uncle told me what happened. The police are on their way.”
“What good will that do? She’s dead.”
“You don’t know that—”
“Oh, but I do.” I swallowed, then said, “They won’t find her.”
Trent was silent. Then he put his hand on the small of my back and ushered me inside to his father’s study. I moved to the windows. Grief was engulfing me in an infinite torrent of hopelessness. Tears rained on my cheeks. I had to take several sobbing breaths before I could speak. “She shouldn’t have come here.”
Trent paced the room. “I know! Why the hell did you invite her? This is a construction zone and it’s dangerous—”
“I didn’t. And don’t yell at me!” He went to put his arms around me, and I flinched. “Don’t touch me. Just leave me alone.”
He stared at me for a moment, then his spine snapped tight and he strode to the back of the room, his expression grim. Angry. I stood like a pillar of ice by the windows. The resonant echo of hammering and sawing had ceased, and the men were heading home early. My tears flowed and melted onto the Oriental rug. I saw Trent talking into his cell phone, but my ears only heard the sounds of emptiness singing to me of death and shattered dreams. And lives ended before they’d been lived. It was true. No matter how drama-queen that sounded.
Sirens blared down the driveway, and a patrol car came to screeching halt somewhere out of sight. Police bustled with activity around theestate. No matter what they did now, they wouldn’t find her. Paige was gone.Forever. And not even my supernatural powers could bring her back.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
By Friday, Paige still hadn’t turned up. I knew she wouldn’t. She was gone. Esael had taken her. Although Evans and I studied like crazy on the town curse and how to defeat Esael, we were no closer to discovering Esael’s motives, or anything about the mysterious prophecies surrounding my part in all this. Evans was standing on the porch and talking on his cell phone when I drove up that morning.
“What have you found out about Esael?” I called as I dashed toward him. “The curse?”
“Keep your voice down!” He covered the phone with one hand. “Um, well, I’m still doing research.” He pointed to a book, Blood Rites and Sacrifices, on the wicker end table.
“More resear
ch?” I cried. “We need to take some friggin’ initiative! Now!” Okay, I sounded whiny. And maybe sorta bitchy. But I couldn’t help it. What good was having superpowers if you couldn’t help people? Or save lives?
Out of habit, my eyes scanned the terrain. No shadows. No wraith. No Trent.
Evans spoke into the phone. “Maxwell, I’ll have to call you back.” He looked over the rim of his spectacles at me. “Shiloh, what happened to Paige is dreadful, and you have every right to be distraught, but you’re starting to sound a tad hysterical.”
“Hysterical? You haven’t seen hysterical!” I practically shouted. “Dead people are talking to me. Esael ate my friend. I’m marked for death. Do the math!” I kicked at the ground with my shoe.
He reluctantly nodded. “Come with me.” He gripped my elbow, steered me into the house and shut the door behind us. In the parlor, he turned to face me. “Maxwell doesn’t want me or anyone else spooking the workers. So I’m warning you—we have to act like everything’s normal. We need to be discreet concerning your magic training too. Have you read those books I gave you to study?”
The room was dark and cool and stuffed with old, musty-smelling furniture. The constant hammering and pounding thudded in my ears. Yet above the racket, the shadows whispered. I slumped against the doorframe. “Yeah, I’ve skimmed them. But I came here to learn more about architecture—not the paranormal,” I said, miserably.
Evans chuckled, the sound as inappropriate to me as giggling at a funeral. “You’ll study both. And instead of complaining so much, you can help me investigate Ravenhurst’s haunted history.” He put a comforting arm around my shoulders. “I realize this is hard. But we’re in it together.”
I nodded and sank onto the sofa. “I know…and I’m grateful for your help. I just hate feeling helpless.” I played with a strand of my hair, my stomach anxious.
“I do too.” Taking off his spectacles, he tossed them on the end table. “And this is completely unprecedented. A haunted house and a demon working together. Paige’s disappearance is baffling—”