Tortured Souls (The Orion Circle)

by Wheaton, Kimber Leigh

  Branches claw at the top of the SUV. A shudder runs through my body—they remind me of the hook man urban legend. When another branch screeches across the top, I jump but manage to stifle the scream in my throat. Logan reaches across the backseat, taking my hand. I lace my fingers through his, clutching him like a lifeline. He caresses my thumb as I try to control my ragged breathing. The SUV hits a ditch in the gravel road, smacking me into the door.

  My relief at leaving the gravel road is short lived. In the daylight, the manor looms, a dark castle-like structure worthy of any gothic novel. Two stone lions guard either side of the stairs leading to the front door. The house is three stories, maybe four. It’s hard to tell if the top section is an attic or another floor. I assumed it would be dilapidated, but it isn’t. Fresh paint in several different shades of blue does nothing to counter the dreary vibes I feel from the structure. Bright sunlight filters through the oak trees surrounding the manor. But even the sunlight isn’t enough to brighten the gloomy house.

  Daniel pulls the SUV to a stop in the circular driveway. With a heavy sigh, I open the car door and step out into the warm afternoon. Crows line the railing on the wrap-around porch. The quiet birds watch our arrival, ruffling their feathers. All we need are some bats, maybe a black cat or two and we’d be ready for Halloween. As I gaze at the imposing structure, I try to see what Bob and Beth Carter saw in this place. The light gray stone façade is quite beautiful, and I love the twin turrets on either end.

  Logan leads me up the stone stairs to the porch by the hand. My eyes never leave the crazy crows as we approach their roost. I expect them to attack any minute. They don’t. After scaling the last step, I’m so close to several birds, I could reach out and pet them.

  “So are the birds like pets or something,” Daniel jokes when he joins us on the porch. His laugh is forced as he watches the crows from the corner of his eye.

  “Caw,” the crow closest to me says. “Caw, caw, caw.”

  “Sorry, I don’t speak crow,” I tell the bird who is staring right at me.

  The bird hops back and forth on the railing then spreads its wings, flapping in small movements. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear this bird was trying to communicate. I look up at Logan, meeting his curious gaze. He squeezes my hand before pulling me away from the line of crows.

  “Let’s not rile them up,” he murmurs, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

  “I think I’m losing my mind,” I whisper in his ear. “I swear that bird is trying to tell me something.”

  “Maybe it is,” Logan says, but doesn’t elaborate.

  After everything I’ve seen, it shouldn’t surprise me that there could be people who can communicate with animals. Right now I think it’d be a boon. The black van appears at the end of the gravel road, kicking up small stones in its wake. Logan pulls me closer, giving me a tight squeeze before moving away.

  “It’s time to prepare,” he says, scanning our surroundings.

  “Logan, I’m scared,” I whisper back, running my hands up and down my arms in an effort to banish the goosebumps on them.

  “Be strong, Cici,” Daniel says from his perch on the only bare spot of railing. “Those kids need you. If your mom’s vision is accurate, you might be their only hope.”

  “You told him about my mother?” I turn an accusatory glare at Logan.

  “I had to tell everyone,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. The guilt reflected in his eyes manages to make me angry and remorseful at the same time. “We can’t keep secrets during an investigation. It can be disastrous.”

  “Why me?” I cry out, feeling like a petulant brat the moment the words leave my mouth.

  The crows react to my outburst, but not the way I expected. Not one takes to the sky. Instead they ruffle their feathers, and make some soft cooing noises. The one who talked to me earlier hops along the railing until it’s beside me. When it brushes its head against my arm, I jump back. It continues to stare at me, its head tipped to the side. The behavior should scare me, and yet I find it oddly soothing.

  “Sorry. I’m ready to start now,” I murmur, still watching the bird.

  I wait for the guys to comment on the bird’s strange behavior. When they remain silent, I ease the wall blocking my psychic abilities down just a bit. Pain. Sorrow. Fear. Agony. Terror. Hysteria… I slam the wall back in place. I’m not even an empath and the surge of emotions was overwhelming. Thank goodness Michelle isn’t here.

  When I glance at Logan, his face is pale and his breathing ragged. I hear a pained gasp and spin around to see Daniel clutching a window ledge with a look of sheer terror on his face. Racing over, I wrench his hand away from the wooden ledge. The worn wood scrapes against his palm leaving behind bloody scratches and several long splinters. He throws his arms around me, burying his face in my hair.

  “I can’t, I can’t,” he murmurs over and over while shaking in my arms. “Too much… just too much.”

  “Clairsentients tend to pick up a lot of emotions. It can be overwhelming at times,” Logan says while inspecting Daniel’s injury. “Let’s get him to the van—we need a first aid kit for his hand.”

  After a rather rocky start, I ascend the stone steps leading to the manor for the second time. Carl has a camera set up on the porch which scared off all the crows but my large friend. He stares at me with beady black eyes that should look menacing but don’t. I must be losing it, taking comfort in a crow’s presence. Logan wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me away from the crow. We decided to take turns opening our barriers so we can support each other. Physical contact makes that much easier.

  Daniel walks beside us, his hands encased in black leather gloves. Every inch of him is covered, only his face and neck exposed. He won’t have to worry about brushing up against anything by accident. As we walk through the front door, I can hear Rebecca’s voice echoing from somewhere down the hall. She and Carl are lucky they don’t have to worry about psychic overload. Though, when we enter the elaborate sitting room, both appear ashen.

  “This place gives me the creeps,” Rebecca says after jumping in fright when we entered the room. She collapses down on a plastic covered floral sofa. It squeaks beneath her as she fidgets. “I’ve never heard so many creaks and moans. No wind can make that much noise without ruffling something.”

  “The EMF is off the charts,” Carl says, scanning the room with the handheld device. “We haven’t ruled out wiring issues yet, but my guess… this is the real deal.”

  “This will be a quick investigation,” Mr. Kincaid says, rubbing his hands together as though trying to get warm. It makes no sense since the heat is almost stifling in this room.

  A chilled breeze blows by, winding around my body before darting away. Air conditioning?

  “Whoa! Major EMF spike,” Carl yells, moving the detector towards Mr. Kincaid.

  “Do you wish to communicate with us?” Rebecca asks, holding out her recorder. “Do you need help?”

  A bloodcurdling scream echoes through the house. I freeze in fear, my heart pounding so hard it hurts. My eyes dart around, looking for the source of the scream. Wrapping my arms around Logan, I lean into him. It takes everything in my power to keep from burying my face in his shoulder. Some investigator I am. Daniel’s hands are on my shoulders, his body pressed against my back.

  “Oh, that’s just great,” Rebecca says in a sarcastic tone. “The pretty girl gets two guys protecting her from the scary ghost. And what do I get? Nothing but this lame-o who’d feed me to the ghost if it would get him physical proof ghosts exist.”

  She points an accusatory finger at Carl who is so preoccupied in his gadgets, he doesn’t notice.

  “You’re very pretty, Rebecca,” Daniel says. He pats my shoulder and moves away. “Cici just happened to be there. If she and Logan were reversed, I would’ve been hugging him.”

  “You think I’m pretty?” Rebecca asks in a soft voice. Her cheeks flush pink, and she sta
res at the carpet.

  “People, we just heard a ghost. A ghost!” Carl yells, flinging his arm through the air. “And you’re worried about girls being pretty? We got that scream on tape. This is awesome! Focus on what’s important.”

  “Jeez, Carl, calm down,” Rebecca says with a snort. “That’s hardly proof. Any of us could’ve made that noise.”

  “Girls before ghosts,” Logan says with a smirk.

  “Is that like bros before hos?” Daniel asks, chuckling behind his hand.

  “Yep, it’s the Circle’s new motto,” Logan adds as he and Daniel both double over in laughter.

  Mr. Kincaid clears his throat. “I’m going to let this all slide since you’re blowing off steam.”

  “I think you’re being far too nice, Mr. Kincaid,” Rebecca says, glaring at them with her hands on her hips.

  “Originally I planned to split up to cover more ground in this house,” Mr. Kincaid says, rubbing his hand over his chin.

  “I call Daphne,” Daniel says, draping his arm over my shoulders.

  “Yeah, not happening,” Logan says, narrowing his eyes.

  “I am so not Velma!” Rebecca yells.

  “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Carl shouts, stomping his foot on the floor. “Can’t you take this seriously?”

  “Carl, some people deal with stress and fear like this,” Mr. Kincaid says as he paces the small room.

  “Yeah, Scooby,” Daniel says in a stage whisper. He and Logan share a glance and start laughing again. By now I’ve had enough.

  “Please, guys, let’s try to get this investigation over with,” I plead, grabbing Logan’s arm. “I don’t want to be here when the sun sets.”

  “What do you suggest, Kacie?” Mr. Kincaid asks, pausing his restless pacing.

  “In most of my visions, Ellie is already outside. I’ve never seen this house in a single vision, though I have seen the barn several times. Maybe we should go out there.”

  “I was avoiding the barn since that’s where Anna was attacked,” Mr. Kincaid admits. “There’s one area in the house we need to check out before heading out to the barn. There’s a secret passage located at the back of the house. Let’s head there. The Realtor who listed the house for sale found the secret entrance but was too afraid to explore.”

  “A secret passage?” Carl says, clapping his hands together. “Could this day get any better?”

  I wish I could be excited like Carl, but the moment Mr. Kincaid mentioned the passage, my anxiety rose. My gut tells me this passage leads someplace horrible, someplace I’m better off avoiding. I have to resist the urge to flee down the hall and out the front door.

  “Caw!” A crow’s cry echoes down the hallway from the open front door. “Caw! Caw! Caw!” More crows join in. They shriek together for several seconds then stop.

  A warning… I’m sure of it.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Dark Rituals

  We follow Mr. Kincaid down several twisting hallways. This house is one of the strangest I’ve ever seen. The downstairs is a sprawling series of halls and small, dungeon-like rooms. I wonder if it was ever a boarding house. That might explain the layout. Or maybe Yardley designed it specifically for his cult members. We pass through a monstrous kitchen that would be at home in any restaurant. Gleaming stainless appliances, some I don’t even recognize, line the walls.

  Behind the kitchen we traverse a narrow hallway before coming to a blank wall. A dead end. Mr. Kincaid twists two candleholders on either side of a lackluster fruit painting. I jump in surprise when the wall next to me moves revealing a hidden passage. He turns on his flashlight and disappears through the opening.

  “Awesome,” Carl squeals in a high-pitched voice.

  “That,” Rebecca says, patting his shoulder.

  “Huh?” Carl asks

  “You wanted to know why girls run from you,” Rebecca replies with a sincere smile.

  “But it’s a hidden passage,” Carl says, pointing at the open door. “It’s freaking awesome!”

  “I agree with Carl on this,” Daniel says as he ducks into the dark tunnel.

  His flashlight beam bounces off the dusty walls, illuminating cobwebs covering the walls and low ceiling.

  “I don’t know,” Carl says, backing away a couple steps.

  “That too,” Rebecca says before ducking in after Daniel. Carl follows behind her, his flashlight bobbing all around.

  “Our turn,” Logan says, turning on his flashlight. “You ready?” He takes my arm, wrapping it through his when I nod. “Stay close.”

  As we duck through the small opening, I realize I won’t be able to hold onto his arm. Placing both hands on his shoulders, I move as close as I can get without tripping us both. The dust tickles my nose, and I hold my breath to keep from sneezing. Cobwebs grab at my hair as we inch forward through the narrow tunnel. I just hope no spiders are still hanging around this dark place.

  “Almost there,” Logan says over his shoulder.

  I lean closer to his body, resting my cheek against his back. With my eyes closed, the tunnel isn’t quite as terrifying. Shudders wrack my body. It feels like spiders are crawling all over me.

  “Get ‘em off, get ‘em off!” Carl shrieks as we exit the narrow passage.

  “Shit, Carl, there’s nothing on you but cobwebs,” Daniel says with a loud sigh.

  “Please tell me whatever’s clinging to my hair is only a cobweb,” I whisper, terrified if I speak any louder it will come out a scream.

  Logan runs his hands through my hair while I keep my eyes closed. He brushes my back and shoulders, then I feel his fingers on my cheek.

  “You’re clean,” he says. I open my eyes, glancing up at him with a shy smile. “Nothing but cobwebs. What about me?” he asks, shining the flashlight on himself.

  “Not too bad,” I say, picking out the sticky webs from his golden-brown waves. “It looks like our friends took the brunt of it. And I basically cowered behind you.”

  Logan lets out a low chuckle while he watches Carl dance around as though covered in bugs. Every time Daniel tries to grab at the webs, Carl dances away. Rebecca strides up and slaps Carl across the face.

  “Get a grip!” she yells before backing away from the awestruck boy. “There weren’t any spiders left in there. It’s been sealed too long.”

  “Uh, thanks,” Carl murmurs, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. “Um… are you sure there’s nothing on my back?”

  “Carrll,” Rebecca growls, making him cringe.

  Lights flicker on all around us, illuminating the large stone room. The room is circular, lit by numerous electric candelabra lining the walls. I guess Yardley wasn’t old school when it came to electricity. A black stone altar sits in the middle of the room. Before I realize it, I’m walking toward that menacing structure. Grooves are carved all over the rectangular structure. Better to drain you with…

  “This isn’t for…” I trail off, my finger shaking as I point at the offensive altar.

  “Maybe not human, but yes, I think the grooves are to drain blood from a sacrifice,” Mr. Kincaid says in a soft voice that echoes in the silent chamber.

  “I think I should lower my barrier, see if anyone wants to communicate,” Logan murmurs while circling the altar. “My guess is something awful happened here.”

  “I need to do it, Logan,” I say, cursing my sudden bravery. But the fact remains, the victims came to me in a vision, not him.

  “Are you sure?” he asks, brushing my hair from my shoulder. When I nod, he sighs. “Okay, but let me hold you. Physical contact should help keep you grounded.”

  I bite my lip to keep from smiling. Yeah, like I’d ever turn down an excuse to be held in his arms. He takes my hand, leading me over to a bare wall. We settle on the cold stone floor, and he pulls me between his legs. Once his arms are wrapped around me, I lean back into his chest and close my eyes. With a gentle push, I lower my mental barrier, allowing
the psychic energy of the room to waft over me. Fear. Euphoria. Agony. Betrayal. Utter hopelessness. So many strong emotions invade my mind at once.

  “It hurts,” I whisper in a raspy voice. “So much.”

  “Stop thinking of your mental barrier as one big dam,” Logan says, rocking me in soothing motions. “You have different powers. Block your empathic abilities.”

  “How?”

  “Imagine a hallway with lots of doors,” he murmurs. “That door at the end of the hall, the one on your left. Can you see it?”

  “Yes,” I reply, moving down the imaginary hallway in my mind. My body trembles from the influx of emotion.

  “The door is slightly open and shouldn’t be,” he says as his arms tighten around me to quell my shaking. “That’s the door to your empathic ability. Close it and lock it.”

  Focusing on his words, I slam the door shut, breathing a sigh of relief when the tide of emotions wanes.

  “Ellie, are you here?” I call out. “Please, Ellie, tell me what happened here.”

  I’m in the same room, but seeing it through the eyes of someone else. My arms are wrenched behind my back, held in an iron grip. Figures in black hooded cowls chant in low tones. My eyes dart around the room looking for help, some means of escape. But there is none.

  Hot tears trail down my cheeks as my captors drag me toward a stone platform in the center of the room. The faceless monsters chain me by the wrists and ankles to the table. Black and red candles are placed all around my body. I struggle in my bonds, but it has no affect other than to cut the iron shackles into my skin.

  Toneless chanting increases in fervor and volume as the hooded figures pace around the table in some strange ritual dance. My heart hammers, every beat painful. A figure garbed in a red cloak moves forward wearing a mask resembling some sort of demonic goat. My struggles renew when I see the long dagger clutched in his hand.

  Oh God! No! Please, God, protect me from evil!

  I yank on the shackles holding my wrists, but even slick with blood, I can’t slip free. The chanting is nothing but screams now as the goat man raises the dagger over my body. I clench my eyes shut when the dagger descends toward my torso. Sharp, unbearable pain! My head reels and my stomach rolls with wave after wave of nausea. Tearing. Agony. Then blessed darkness.