Tortured Souls (The Orion Circle)

by Wheaton, Kimber Leigh

By the time third period rolls around, the rain has slowed to a light drizzle. The quad outside the Arts and Humanities building is empty—tables and benches all drenched from the morning downpour. My view from this window is normally much more interesting, diverting me from the tedium of English class. How can a teacher take something as interesting as reading and turn it into mindless torture?

  We just started Hamlet, a wonderful play full of intrigue, love, murder and insanity. Instead of an open discussion about the play, Mr. Farlow has us taking turns reading it in class. Listening to my classmates stumble over the archaic phrasing in a dull monotone is enough to lead me to fantasies of breaking a window and fleeing into the misty morning air. The bell finally rings, releasing me from my torment and silent vigil over the courtyard below.

  My classmates fall over each other in their desperation to escape, while I hang back, still eyeing the silent quad. Once the crowd has fought their way out the narrow door, I follow with ease, a tiny smirk on my face at the absurdity of it all.

  Sometimes you’ve just gotta laugh lest you end up crying in your cereal. Another of my late great aunt’s many bizarre sayings. Though, now that I think about it, she may have been onto something. The family wrote her off as senile at worst and eccentric at best. Perhaps she was merely wiser than the rest of us.

  The bright hallway is filled with eager students rushing past loitering delinquents. I have yet to understand the propensity to hang out by the lockers since so many have a tendency to leak foul odors. More than one of my friends has left a lunch to rot in the confines of the metal cage. Perhaps they couldn’t bring themselves to toss it away even though they had no desire to eat it. A single row of lockers is a microbiology science fair project all ready to go, only the colorful poster board and labels missing.

  Making my way down the staircase to the first floor, I head out the door and into the quiet quad. The rain has stopped, leaving the outdoors feeling clean, the fresh scent of ozone permeating the air around me. Spreading the dingy white towel I nabbed earlier from the locker room on a stone bench, I sit down and pull my script from my backpack. Fourth period would normally be PE, but I’m exempt due to my stint on the cross country team.

  As I try to concentrate on learning my lines for the fall play, other students trickle outside now that the rain has stopped. Ignoring the incessant chatter surrounding me, I lose myself in my Anything Goes script. I’m playing the lead, nightclub singer Reno Sweeney, and I have nine songs along with what seems like hundreds of lines to learn before our performance in eight weeks. My mind is so wrapped up in the script I don’t notice the person who sits down beside me on the other end of the towel.

  “Kacie, are you in there?” a male voice asks, making me jump in surprise. “I saw you sitting alone and thought you might like some company, but you seem busy so I’ll go.”

  When I glance up, warmth rushes not only to my face but all over my body. Logan scoots closer, his leg brushing against mine. His cheeks flush an endearing shade of pink. My gaze moves to his lips, and I can’t help biting my lower lip as I watch him speak. I’ve never felt like this before—this strong almost uncontrollable desire to lean forward, close the small gap between us, and press my lips to his.

  “Kacie?” Logan calls out, snapping me from my thoughts. “Should I go?”

  “No don’t go,” I say as I stuff the script back into my bag. “I’m sick of reading this script anyway. So what’s up?” I ask, my heart fluttering a bit when he rewards me with a brilliant smile.

  He pulls an envelope from his backpack and hands it to me. The envelope is heavy ivory stock, very formal in appearance, with my name written across the front in elegant calligraphy lettering. Kassandra Ramsey. I don’t see my full name often. Curiosity wells within as I release the seal on the back, careful not to mar the ivory stock. There’s a notecard inside, also written in calligraphy.

  Dear Kacie,

  Congratulations on your referral to the Orion Circle. We would like to extend an invitation to attend our meeting on the ninth of October, at fifteen thirty hours in the loft of the Sciences building located at the top of the eastern stairwell. You will be asked to take a formal vow of silence in regards to anything you see or hear at the meeting today. Please RSVP to your courier.

  Orion Circle

  “Vow of silence?” I ask a bit dumfounded. “No wonder your group gets compared to a secret society.”

  “It’s not like that,” Logan says with a wink. “I think you of all people understand the need for discretion when it comes to certain talents.” He gives me a knowing look. When my hazel eyes widen at the realization, he nods and his lips curl into a serene smile. “I’ll meet you at your locker after school if you’d like an escort,” he offers in a rather casual tone, though if I’m not just reading things into it, his gaze is anything but casual. His fingers rake through his curly hair in what almost appears to be a nervous gesture.

  “Sure, Logan, that’d be great,” I reply, trying not to blush. My heart races, the beat rattling my chest. He flashes another killer smile before he stands.

  “I’ll see you after school then,” he says before turning and walking away.

  A tiny sigh escapes me as I watch him walk away, unable to ignore how his jeans cling to his long legs. I’m so enrapt with Logan’s retreating figure that I jump and squeal when Celia plops down beside me. She’s dressed to perfection as usual, her denim miniskirt hugging her tanned legs, adorable black ankle boots adorning her feet. A green and black varsity jacket covers her body, dwarfing her. Her boyfriend du jour is a fullback on the football team and built like a tank.

  “Logan Finley, huh?” Celia says, tossing her long, blonde hair. Her dark eyes twinkle with a knowing look. “Holding hands at the party last night and now making googly eyes at each other.”

  “He invited me to a club meeting today,” I say, trying not to sound as interested in him as I feel.

  When Celia lets out a tiny gasp, I realize my mistake. She knows the basic stats on every cute guy in school—guess she’d have to considering she has a new boyfriend every month or so.

  “The Orion Circle,” she breathes in wonder. “I can’t believe it. You have to tell me everything that happens!”

  “Can’t,” I tell her. “I have to take a vow of silence.”

  “No way,” she says. Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “Wow it really is a secret society.” When she begins to pout I have to stifle a giggle. “So you’re into Logan?” she asks, the beaming smile returning to her face. It’s sometimes exhausting to keep up with her mood swings.

  “Well,” I say ready to defer, but then I realize I have to get it out or I might explode. “He’s gorgeous, I’m totally into him. I could get lost in his eyes,” I admit in a whisper as my cheeks heat up. “Do you think I have a chance?”

  “Of course you do!” Celia all but squeals. “We need to make a detour to the bathroom, get your hair fixed, get some more make-up around your eyes, you know really make them pop…” She trails off, digging through her backpack.

  Anxiety eats at me as I consider the awful things she might subject me to. When she pulls out a lash curler I cringe.

  “That thing looks like some kind of medieval torture device. Put it up, Celia,” I say in exasperation. There’s no way she’s putting the metal monstrosity anywhere near my eyelashes. “If he doesn’t like me the way I am why would I want to be with him? Besides, I’m already wearing make-up.”

  “Oh, Kacie, you’re so naïve. It’s cute, really,” she says looking at me like I’m a poor lost child. “Fine,” she sighs when I continue to glare at her. “Have it your way. You’re gorgeous so you can probably get away with it.” As she’s stuffing the eyelash curler back in her make-up case the bell rings signaling the end of fourth period. She leaps from the bench. “Let’s go, I’m only two tardies away from detention.”

  I jump from the bench, grab the damp towel, and follow her back into the building.


  When the final bell rings, I bolt from my desk and rush from the classroom. Pushing my way through the throng of chattering students, I arrive at my locker to find Logan waiting for me. He’s talking to Celia and her boyfriend, Jake, but when he notices my approach, his gaze moves to me as if the others have ceased to exist. His lips curl into an adorable smile, making my belly flutter in response. Celia and Jake step back so I can reach my locker, but Logan doesn’t move.

  I brush up against him when I open the locker. Another tiny spark passes between us, causing me to shiver in response. The initial spark is followed by a very pleasant warm feeling, though I don’t know if the warmth is caused by my attraction to him or our shared psychic bond. It’s not like I can ask him yet.

  “Well, I have to get to the theater for rehearsal,” Celia says in a bright chirp. She is Juliet in the fall production of Romeo and Juliet. “Call me later tonight, Kacie,” she calls over her shoulder while leading Jake away by the hand.

  As I watch their blond heads disappear into the crowd, I realize her relationship with Jake has lasted six weeks, heading to a new record since she still seems infatuated with him. She’s not the only one with ammo for a phone call tonight. With a chuckle, I turn back to my locker and remove several notebooks, stuffing them into my backpack.

  “Are you ready?” Logan asks in a soft murmur.

  Closing my locker, I nod and smile at him, trying to hide my anxiety. Why did I agree to go to this club meeting? What if they sacrifice goats to some pagan god or something? Laughter wells up within at the absurd image of an animal sacrifice occurring on the third floor of the Sciences building. Besides, it couldn’t be a goat—it would have to be a cat or a fetal pig since that’s what the AP biology class is dissecting this year. I guess it could be a crawfish or an earthworm since the regular biology classes dissect those.

  My laughter finally bubbles out when I picture figures in black robes sacrificing an earthworm to their pagan god. I feel Logan’s eyes on me. When I glance at him, he has a strange, indecipherable look on his face.

  “Are you alright?” he asks, concern clouding his features.

  “Yeah, just a little nervous,” I reply, fighting another blush that threatens to form.

  He walks down the hall, navigating through the maze of students, checking back every so often to make sure I’m still following. When we pass through the doors leading out into the damp autumn air, he surprises me by heading over to a bench rather than continuing to the Sciences building.

  He sits down and motions for me to join him, so I lower myself to the gray stone bench. The stone soaked up the chilled rain today, and the cold passes through my jeans up into my body. I’ve always enjoyed cool weather, probably a tribute to my Norse ancestry. Though I shiver a bit, I feel exhilarated as a slight breeze ruffles my hair, making it dance around my head.

  “I’m gonna break the rules and give you a heads up about us,” Logan says in a very low voice.

  My eyes fly to his in surprise. He moves closer to me on the bench so our legs are touching.

  “We are a paranormal research group. Hunters you might say, hence the name Orion. I know you’re already aware there’s more out there than meets the eye, but you’ll be surprised by just how much more there really is.”

  He’s speaking in a very low voice, obviously not wanting to be overheard. I use this as an excuse to lean a little closer to him.

  “So you investigate hauntings?” I murmur, intrigued by the idea.

  “Not just hauntings, anything supernatural,” he replies. I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. “I can’t go into more detail until you’re a member. But don’t worry, Kacie. I’ll be right beside you today, and by tonight you’ll be a member, then we can talk.”

  He stands and extends his hand to me. Taking his hand, I allow him to pull me from the bench. There’s no spark or jolt this time, just pleasant warmth that permeates me.

  “It appears our powers are adjusting to each other,” he comments, a smile lighting his face.

  “You know, my Dad always told me to hide my abilities,” I admit with a resounding sigh at the pain deeply ingrained from such a young age. “He said people wouldn’t understand. It embarrassed him when I’d talk to someone only visible to me. I’ve never had anyone to talk to before, you know about when things get scary.”

  The last part comes out a whisper as images from my recurring dream surface unbidden. VISION, my brain shouts, making me cringe. Fine vision, I accede, trying to mollify my volatile powers.

  “You’re not alone anymore, Kacie,” Logan says as he leads the way to the Sciences building, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “You can talk to me whenever you want, even two in the morning if needed.”

  A smile lights my face at his generous offer, and for the first time since my mother walked out on us six years ago, I feel as though a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

  Chapter Five

  The Orion Circle

  The rain begins again as I follow Logan up the eastern stairwell of the Sciences building. It turns from a drizzle to a deluge, creating a loud roar all around us. Cold shivers race through my body by the time we reach the third flight of stairs. A giant skylight covers the ceiling above us revealing the darkened sky through the sheet of rain running across the glass.

  Thunder sounds in the distance, a low rolling rumble. Logan pauses at the top of the stairs right in front of the door that must lead to the loft area. He grins at me and gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before opening the door and ushering me through.

  The room beyond is enormous, a wide open space that covers at least a third of the building. Floor to ceiling windows span the length of the room revealing the fierce flood of rain outside. In a way, the space reminds me of a loft apartment. There’s a small kitchenette in one corner beside a cozy nook featuring a table and six chairs.

  Bookcases cover the wall across from the expanse of windows, filled with an amazing array of books—some so old they look like they might crumble if touched by a rough hand. Two sofas and several plush chairs flank the bookshelves creating a pleasant sitting area. Following Logan across the large room, I see our destination before we arrive. On the far end of the room there’s a long conference table surrounded by numerous black leather chairs.

  Most of the chairs are filled, some by students I recognize and a few by adults I don’t know. As we approach I count eight students and three adults. My stomach clenches as nervousness sets in. I really have no idea what to expect, but the eleven pairs of eyes staring at me are disconcerting to say the least. When we arrive at the conference area, Logan stops and places his hand on my back in a reassuring gesture. A rather timely move considering I was contemplating my chances of escape. I glance at him, and he flashes a serene smile at me.

  “This is Kacie Ramsey,” Logan addresses the group. “She’s here at my invitation as a potential initiate to the Orion Circle.”

  An adult stands, I recognize him as the AP physics teacher though I can’t remember his name.

  “Welcome, Kacie, I’m Roger Kincaid, the faculty advisor for the Orion Circle,” he says, crossing over to shake my hand. “We have a few tests for you before we vote on whether you shall be admitted into the Circle. Michelle, you can go first.”

  One of the students rises from her chair and beckons at me to follow. She leads me away from the conference area to several closed doors I hadn’t noticed before. One has a sign showing a man and a woman, a bathroom, leaving four other doors a mystery. She opens the farthest door and ushers me into a small conference room. I watch her sit at the table, my heart hammering in my chest. My body is frozen by nerves as I stand rigid, my eyes darting around the small room. When she motions for me to join her at the table, I hesitate.

  “Logan has told us about you,” she says, folding her hands on the table. “It’s okay. I just want to talk.”

  Blowing a breath out in a long sigh, I sit
in a chair across the table. Her brown hair is tied in a short ponytail behind her head, though stray hair has fallen out to frame her face in frizzy curls. San Antonio humidity can be murder on hair. My hand passes through my hair, and I cringe when I feel the tight waves.

  “Although all Logan really knows is that you’re a clairvoyant of some sort having disturbing visions. And visitations…” She pauses and gazes at me with her chocolate brown eyes as if sizing me up before continuing. “I read people. I have no connection with the dead, only the living. With your permission, I’d like the chance to read your aura and discuss your abilities.”

  She pauses again waiting for my response, not looking at me but rather studying her bright red manicured nails.

  “I’m not really sure what you intend to do, but I suppose it’s okay,” I say in a hesitant murmur.

  She glances up at me with a calm smile on her face before placing her hands palm up on the table.

  “Place your hands in mine. I need a physical connection to do a reading.”

  There’s no spark like there was with Logan—her hands cool to the touch but nothing more. She closes her eyes and appears deep in thought. Seconds creep by while she sits, eyes closed, unmoving. As more time passes I become anxious, squirming in the plastic chair from both mental and physical distress. I never was good at sitting still for any length of time. When her dark eyes open again, she regards me in silence before releasing my hands.

  “Let’s head back to the conference table,” she says, lurching to unsteady feet. “You’ll want to hear about what I sensed.”

  As we near the long table, all conversation stops. Michelle takes her prior seat on the far side of the table. When Logan motions for me to sit beside him, I’m grateful. The idea of standing in front of this group is mortifying.

  “Your report, Michelle,” Mr. Kincaid prompts.

  “Sorry, just organizing my thoughts,” Michelle says, rubbing her chin with her fingers. “Kacie appears to be a very strong psychic medium. I really don’t think any additional testing is necessary. But she dammed up her talent behind a massive wall in her subconscious mind. Her power is so strong it trickles out around the barrier. This is incredibly dangerous since the power that leaks out is uncontrolled. It acts almost like a beacon to the supernatural world. Why did you do that, Kacie?”