Tortured Souls (The Orion Circle)

by Wheaton, Kimber Leigh

  Chapter Ten

  Date Night

  I am so happy. I’ve been walking around with a ridiculous smile plastered to my face all day. Helping the spirit, Maria, move on was so rewarding. To think she suffered for decades, and I was the one who was able to help her rest in peace. For the first time in my life, I feel good about my abilities—like I can really make a difference. Of course it helps that I’ve learned to raise and lower my barrier with ease. As I step out of the shower, I catch a glimpse of myself in the steamed up mirror. Silly grin? Check. My grin fades when I open the bathroom door to utter chaos.

  They say hindsight is twenty/twenty. Right now I’m wishing I had the foresight to see this decision for the disaster it’s turning into. When I asked Celia to come over and help me prepare for my date with Logan, I didn’t think it through. While I was blissfully unaware in the shower, Celia managed to empty half my closet and most of my dresser drawers onto the bed. I know the bed is somewhere underneath the massive pile of clothing, but there’s no sign of it beyond the comforter peeking out along the side. Shaking my head, I enter the room still towel drying my hair. Celia turns to me with a beaming smile.

  “This is so exciting,” Celia croons in a melodramatic squeal. It’s obvious why she was cast as Juliet in the drama production. She was made for it—drama, that is. “You’re finally going on your first date and with a total hottie too.”

  Rolling my eyes, I drape the damp towel across the back of my desk chair and stare at her reflection in the mirror.

  “It’s not a date, Celia,” I remind her while watching her compare two skirts with a critical eye. It is a date, in my mind anyway, but something makes me downplay it aloud. “It’s an investigation for the club.”

  I was relieved when Mrs. Kincaid told me it was okay to tell my trusted friends and family what the club does. It would be impossible to participate in investigations if I was forced to lie to Dad about where I was going.

  “What could be more potentially romantic than a haunted house?” she asks in a dreamy voice. “A ghost suddenly appears and you jump into his strong arms for protection. Perfect.”

  Her comment makes me laugh at the absurd image.

  “I wouldn’t be much of an investigator if I shrieked and jumped on my partner,” I choke out through the laughter.

  “True. He’s taking you to dinner first,” she says with a sly smile. “Sounds like a date to me.” She gives me her I dare you to argue look.

  “It’s merely a dinner among colleagues before the assignment,” I argue, trying not to smirk at her sullen expression.

  “You don’t really believe that or I wouldn’t be here trying to help you figure out what to wear tonight,” she says as she tosses her long, blonde curls. When she turns to look at me, I collapse onto the pile of clothing covering the bed.

  “You’re right, he’s all I could think about this entire week,” I admit, closing my eyes to see his face dancing in my memory. “I just get lost in his eyes. When he dropped me off last night after our ghost hunt I was praying he’d kiss me but he didn’t.” A wistful sigh escapes my lips as I recall standing on the porch with him, the soft moonlight glinting off his curls. “Then on the ride to school this morning, I couldn’t stop staring at his lips. He held my hand all the way to school.”

  “Wow, you’ve got it bad,” Celia remarks, patting me on the shoulder. “About damn time. I guess I’d better cross Logan off my list of potentials.”

  My eyes fly open at her remark. “He’s on your list?” I ask a bit shocked.

  “He’s sexy as hell, athletic, and in an exclusive, secretive club,” Celia says waving her hand for emphasis. “I don’t know why it surprises you.” She reaches down and pulls me up off the bed by the hand. “It doesn’t matter anymore now that you’re into him. What time is he picking you up?”

  “Five-thirty,” I reply, looking over to the clock on the nightstand.

  “Twenty-five minutes!” she shrieks. “Hurry and dry your hair while I pick out your clothes.”

  “I was going to leave my hair damp,” I admit in a sheepish murmur, taking in her stunned expression.

  “If that’s a joke it isn’t funny,” she mumbles, digging through the pile of clothes on the bed.

  With a resigned sigh, I plug in the blow dryer and get to work on my long hair. My strawberry-blonde hair is wavy and doesn’t do well under a dryer. Sometimes the waves go a bit crazy from the heat. After a few minutes of watching Celia through the mirror, I turn off the dryer and place it on the dresser.

  “Jeans and a sweater,” I insist in a tone that doesn’t invite argument.

  Celia stops pawing through my clothes and appears to contemplate my statement.

  “You know, just this once, I think you’re right,” she says as she starts rifling through the pile of clothing again. “I never thought I’d see the day…” She rambles on about my lack of fashion sense while I turn back to the mirror and finish drying my hair.

  When my hair is mostly dry, I turn off the dryer, steeling myself to see what revealing outfit Celia put together. She’s busy stuffing clothes back into the dresser drawers and hanging dresses back in the closet. When my gaze falls on the clothing she picked out, I’m pleasantly surprised. I slip on the well-worn, faded bootcut jeans, glad I’ll have ease of movement.

  I’ve never been on an investigation before. For all I know we have to climb ladders, crawl on the floor, or go up into a dusty attic. Wouldn’t that be a riot in a short miniskirt and heels? Celia picked out a plain black and gray striped turtleneck to pair with the jeans. As I slip it over my head, I wonder for a moment what possessed my fashion forward friend to dress me so conservatively tonight.

  “You picked out the perfect clothes, Celia,” I say, the surprise apparent in my voice.

  “You don’t have to sound so shocked, Kacie,” she says, worry clouding her features. “I figured you might need comfortable clothes, you know, in case you had to run from a ghost.”

  I start to laugh until I realize she’s serious. Celia’s afraid of ghosts—it goes beyond normal fear, it’s a phobia. My abilities scare her to death. Without responding, I pull on my gray hiking boots and tie the laces.

  “I’ve never met anyone with hiking boots in so many different colors,” she remarks as she watches me from the corner of her eye.

  Returning to the mirror, I line my eyes with charcoal liner, topped with a sparkling silver shadow. A quick pass with the mascara wand and I’m finished.

  “Well?” I ask, turning to face Celia.

  The closer it gets to five-thirty, the more my stomach rebels, forget butterflies, I have a full stampede of wildebeests running around in there.

  “You look gorgeous,” Celia replies. “Don’t forget the lipstick.”

  “I hate the stuff, it tastes terrible,” I murmur, pulling out some tinted pomegranate lip balm. “How’s this?”

  She looks me over from head to toe before throwing my gray pleather jacket at me.

  “He’ll love it,” she says, nodding her head. “You look great without looking like you spent much time getting ready.”

  “It only took twenty minutes,” I remind her. She looks from me to the clock. “He’ll be here in five minutes,” I murmur, trying to settle my nerves. “Do you need a ride home?”

  “Jake’s picking me up here at five-thirty,” she replies, striking a pose. “How do I look?”

  “Perfect as always, Celia,” I remark with a smile.

  She’s wearing what I was afraid she’d try to dress me in, a short black lace miniskirt and matching halter top. Her black boots have three-inch heels. I’d probably fall to my death if I tried walking in those. The doorbell rings causing my stomach to lurch a bit.

  “Kacie, your guests are here,” Gavin yells from downstairs.

  Running to the mirror, I check my hair and makeup one last time. My hair is rather easy to deal with. It’s mostly dry, and I run the brush through it again
before turning to Celia.

  “Remember you can’t tell anyone about the Orion Circle,” I say, hoping she takes it to heart. Though I trust her, gossip this juicy might be hard for her to keep quiet.

  “I promise,” she replies, making a zipping motion across her lips with her fingers. “I’m glad you told me, and I won’t tell a soul. Be careful tonight okay.”

  “Don’t worry,” I say as we head toward the stairs. “Logan will be with me if any ghosts get out of hand.” My words have the desired effect. She snorts with laughter. “Besides we’re going to confirm the haunting is a hoax. I really don’t think any spirits will try to eat me.”

  She laughs again, but this time it sounds a bit forced.

  “Kacie, ever since your problem with the cowboy, I worry about you,” Celia says, all laughter gone from her face. “Swear you’ll be careful.” She pauses at the top of the stairs, turning to face me. “You and I both know the supernatural is not something to play around with.”

  A haunted look crosses her face, and I know she’s remembering what happened six years ago. Her mom started doing séances with a homemade spirit board, not a good idea under the best of circumstances. Unfortunately her mother had no clue what she was doing and invited a rather mischievous spirit into the house. It targeted poor Celia, made her life a living hell. We were both only nine when I helped rid her house of the spirit.

  “Celia, I can use my abilities to help people, like I did with you,” I say, pulling her into a one armed hug. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I’m tired of forcing it down to hide behind a brick wall in my mind. It can be so exhausting. I’ll be with Logan, don’t worry.”

  She doesn’t say anything as she follows me down the stairs. When we reach the first floor, there are voices coming from the kitchen. Jake and Logan are both in the kitchen talking to my brother. All three clam up the moment Celia and I enter the room. My eyes zero in on Logan. He looks amazing tonight in faded blue jeans and a beat-up brown leather jacket. Celia walks right up to Logan and gives him her best glare.

  “You keep her safe tonight,” she orders, poking him in the chest with her pink-manicured finger.

  Logan gives her a serene smile and nods his head. Jake pulls Celia away from Logan and holds her against his chest. He rests his blond head on hers making it difficult to tell where his hair ends and hers begins. When I first met Jake, he didn’t strike me as a peacemaker. But being from a broken home he can’t seem to stand any strife. All of San Antonio heard about his parents’ divorce three years ago, his mother being a prominent news anchor. To call it messy would be a vast understatement.

  “Funny, that’s just what Gavin was saying,” Logan says chuckling. “Though I have a feeling you’re both talking about different things.”

  Jake snickers into Celia’s head, and it finally occurs to me what the three guys were discussing. Right now I’m so glad Celia picked out a turtleneck. I hate the way my neck flushes whenever I get embarrassed. It seems I have no control over it, and with my pale skin, it’s all too noticeable. Logan takes my arm and leads me to the foyer.

  “We’re supposed to be at the inn by eight tonight so we should get going if we’re gonna have any time to eat,” he says when we reach the front door.

  Gavin stalks right behind us, and he almost runs into me when I turn to face him.

  “I might be very late,” I tell my brother. Before he can protest I continue, “Dad already okayed breaking curfew. We’ll be with the owners of the inn so he isn’t worried.”

  “Text when you leave the inn, Kacie,” Gavin insists, making me sigh in exasperation. “Don’t roll your eyes at me. Dad will be worried.”

  With a nod I agree to his demands. I suppose Dad would be nervous about me being out in the middle of the night.

  “Dad called the innkeepers, Mr. and Mrs. Anders. They have separate rooms available for you and Logan if you’re there past one. He doesn’t want you on the road that late.” Gavin crosses his arms over his chest as though waiting for an argument.

  I’m about to protest when Logan rescues Gavin.

  “Mrs. Kincaid called our parents, and they already planned everything together so don’t feel too picked on,” Logan says, squeezing my hand. “It’ll be fun to stay at the inn tonight. Besides we really should do an all-night investigation. We both know spirits are at their most active between midnight and three.”

  The statement makes me laugh. Spirits are only more active at night because it’s quiet and we can hear them better. At least that’s my theory, and judging by the cute smirk on Logan’s face I think he agrees.

  “Celia, we gotta go,” Jake mutters, pulling on her arm. “Game’s at eight. Coach’ll kill me if I’m late again.” Celia nods before turning and winking at me.

  “Happy hunting,” she calls out as Jake drags her out the door.

  Waving goodbye, I watch her disappear into Jake’s Jeep before turning to say goodbye to Gavin. I’m somewhat surprised when he’s nowhere to be seen.

  “Bye, Gavin,” I yell out as I follow Logan out the door.

  “Stay safe, Kacie,” Gavin yells back.

  Chapter Eleven

  Romance at the River Walk

  Closing the door softly behind me, I pull my keys from my backpack and lock the door. We might be forced to stay the night so I packed a change of clothes and toiletries just in case. My sweet brother brought home a UTSA Roadrunners t-shirt for me to wear tonight. I hope Logan likes it better than the A&M jersey.

  The idea of spending the night at an inn with Logan is both exciting and nerve-wracking. As I follow him down the drive to his Mustang, my mind flashes through all sorts of scenarios. I quickly shut down that train of thought when my entire body begins to tingle from my more lascivious imaginings. Logan opens the passenger door for me, bringing a tiny grin to my face. Very chivalrous.

  “Do you have any preference for dinner?” he asks as he eases himself into the driver’s seat.

  “Sorry, I hadn’t really thought about it,” I reply, glancing at him in the dim light from the dash.

  Dinner has been the last thing on my mind. With any luck, Logan will think I’m preoccupied with our assignment and not him. Right now I can’t get my scattered brain to focus enough to even name two restaurants along the river.

  “I thought the Crooked Cactus on the River Walk would be fun,” he says, a hopeful smile on his face.

  When I nod my agreement, he pulls from the curb and eases down the street much slower than Jake did.

  “I’ve never eaten there, but I do love Mexican food,” I comment as we exit Cedar Bluffs.

  “The food is great and they have live music on weekends.”

  I take the chance to study his face while he’s intent on driving. His profile is rather nice, nose not too prominent, a little crooked but it adds character. The way his light brown hair curls down over his forehead and at the nape of his neck is adorable. I just want to tangle my fingers in those curls. He glances over at me and seems to misinterpret my stare as perhaps disbelief.

  “Not mariachi music,” he says laughing. “The look on your face is priceless!”

  He’s still chuckling under his breath, leaving me to wonder what my expression looked like. My best guess is dazed since that was how I felt at the moment.

  “Mostly San Antonio bands, rock music, but not the hard stuff.”

  “Sounds good,” I manage to choke out through a throat that feels like it’s closing on me.

  I’m embarrassed and he’s oblivious to it. Against my better judgment, my eyes find their way back to study his profile. He sings along with the radio in a rather nice baritone. Deciding I can’t continue to sit here and stare at him, I opt to ferret out some answers about this enigmatic organization I’m now a part of.

  “I’ve been dying of curiosity since the meeting Monday. Are Daniel and Yolanda hunting a real werewolf? I thought werewolves were fairy tales.”

  “They’r
e real enough and can do major damage without a pack,” he replies, tapping his hands on the wheel in time with the music. “It sounds like the Austin chapter found a rogue.” When he stops tapping to grip the steering wheel with both hands, I realize he’s unnerved. “They change with the full moon once a month, which is less than two weeks away. The pack will go deep into the wilderness—Native American reserves are the most popular. That way there’s no danger to the general population.”

  “What about the Native Americans?” I ask worried for the friends I’ve made with several Comanches.

  “They’re well-aware of the werewolves. An agreement is normally made with the tribal elders,” Logan says, glancing over at me. Our eyes meet since I haven’t stopped studying him since we left my house. “When one goes rogue, there’s a greater possibility there’ll be human casualties.”

  He appears lost in thought so I look out the window studying the scenery in the waning light. The drive downtown is only about twenty minutes and there’s nothing scenic about it. Everything along the freeway is urbanized, strip mall after strip mall and motel after motel. As we pass the airport, a plane flies directly over us to land on the runway just yards from the road. As much as I detest the urbanization, I have to admit I like the planes flying over so low. The vibrations from the powerful jet engines rumble through the car and straight into my soul.

  I have so many more questions for Logan but don’t feel like bombarding him with an endless supply at the moment. Though I’m curious about the Orion Circle, most of the questions I really want answered revolve around the hot guy next to me.

  “How did you get involved with the Circle?” I ask, breaking the long silence.

  He glances at me from the corner of his eye appearing relieved. It seems he didn’t like the conversation regarding werewolves. I’ll need to dig into that at a later date.

  “My parents are both well-known sensitives in psychic circles,” he replies. “My mom is like Michelle, very gifted with the living but a null with the deceased. My dad is a physical medium and a prolific author. I was asked to join my freshman year. My parents consult with the Circle from time to time.”