Tortured Souls (The Orion Circle)

by Wheaton, Kimber Leigh

  “It’s protected,” Michael says. His voice sounds distant, like he’s fading away. “You need to find it and destroy it.”

  “But where are we?” I ask right as he shimmers and disappears. “Wait, come back!”

  A dark presence fills the room, dropping the temperature with its arrival. Wrapping my arms around my body, I shiver, wishing myself awake, or away, or however I can escape. Laughter surrounds me, dark and menacing. Something brushes my hair to the side, and I lurch away with a shriek. Closing my eyes, I renew my efforts to escape.

  “Trying to leave so soon, Kassandra?” a deep male voice asks from behind me.

  I spin around to face the source of the voice. The Foxblood Demon stands before me looking every bit solid where Michael appeared a ghost. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was alive. His dark eyes leer at me, and his thin lips turn up into a nasty sneer. My heart hammers so hard and fast I can feel each painful beat. He takes a step toward me. I scramble backward, bumping into the altar with my hip. His sneer turns into a gleeful smile, revealing canines filed to points.

  “There’s no escape, Kassandra,” he says with a deep chuckle. “Soon you’ll be mine—”

  “No!” I scream, cutting him off. “Never!”

  I jolt awake with a choked sob. My pulse races as I try to control my ragged breathing. A burning sensation spreads through my chest like I just ran several miles. The vision seemed so real. Light from the hallway bathes my room in eerie shadows. Leaning over, I turn on the lamp by my bed, chasing the shadows away. I fall back against the pillows, flinging my arm over my face. My breaths come out in shallow pants, and I force myself to deepen them before I pass out.

  It’s over—the vision is over, and I found the relic. I just wish I knew where the underground shelter was.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Samhain Gala

  How hard can it be to find one fallout shelter? Apparently like looking for a piece of hay in a pile of needles. Each time we think we’ve found it, elation turns to bitter disappointment when we realize we hit another dead end. It’s been a week now since my last vision. A week filled with fear, nerves, and frustration.

  Dr. Hayes was never able to definitively prove Yardley was responsible for pulverizing the brains of our Halloween victims. But everyone believes it since there’s no other logical reason for a brain to suddenly turn to mush. Besides, one of the victims was known to do psychic readings from time to time, and another worked with the police on missing person cases as a consultant. Deep down I know Yardley killed them. Only three days left until Halloween…

  Yardley doesn’t visit anymore. Perhaps he’s building his strength for Halloween, or maybe he’s trying to keep those poor tortured souls from providing more clues. Either way I’m both relieved and upset. Yardley scares the crap out of me. I can’t help but wonder if I’m blocking the visions somehow. No, I’ve been drinking Mrs. Finley’s tea every single night. The bracelet around my wrist is still stuck tight. Every once in a while it vibrates, reacting to dark energy nearby. Creepy as it sounds I think Yardley is watching me from a distance.

  I’m seated at Celia’s vanity while she curls my hair with some monstrous device that sucks in the hair and spits out a curl. Any moment I’m sure she’ll load it wrong and it will rip out a chunk of my hair. Still as a statue, I continue to sit while listening to the whirr of the curler and Rebecca’s voice on speaker.

  “Will it work on thick hair?” Rebecca asks Celia.

  “I’m not sure,” Celia says as she guides another small chunk of hair into the machine. “Kacie and I both have fine hair. I think you’d have to use less hair in each curl. You should come over sometime when you don’t care if I mangle your hair and give it a try.”

  “Speaking of mangled hair,” I mumble when Celia pulls a bit harder than she had been. “I’d like to keep my hair firmly attached to my head if you don’t mind.”

  “Cute, Kacie,” Celia says with a wide smile. “You will be my greatest masterpiece, so stop worrying.”

  “Should I iron or curl my hair for tonight?” Rebecca asks.

  “Could we stick to the topic at hand?” I ask with a frustrated sigh. “Halloween is only a few days away, and we’re no closer to finding the fallout shelter than we were a week ago.”

  “Yeah, are you sure there’s a shelter at all?” Rebecca asks. I can hear the hesitation and doubt in her voice.

  “Well it was some kind of underground bunker,” I reply, picturing the room in my mind. “There was a hazmat suit and some gas masks. Old canned food and cots lining the walls. There were also those radiation stickers on a few of the cabinets.”

  “That’s odd,” Rebecca says. “Why would there be radiation warnings inside the bunker? Did you open any of the cabinets?”

  “No, I didn’t have time,” I reply, flinching as the damned machine pulls my hair again. “But now that you mention it… that does seem odd.”

  “Well, I’ve gotten nowhere with my research,” she says with a loud sigh. “Any ideas?”

  A sudden epiphany hits. “Have you located any relatives of his followers?”

  “I did,” she relies in a glum voice. “Yardley’s followers had no contact with the outside world after they joined his cult.”

  “It’s there, I just know it,” I say, my voice rising with my conviction. “It would be close to the house or the barn. He wouldn’t want to run the risk…” I trail off as my eyes widen and my adrenaline surges. It couldn’t be that simple. And yet… “Oh, I think I know where the entrance is!”

  “Spill!” Rebecca shouts.

  “I think there’s an entrance in that ritual room,” I say, bouncing in my excitement. Celia berates me after yanking a section of hair.

  “Like a tunnel or something?” Rebecca asks. She sounds excited too. I can almost see her leaning forward as her interest is piqued. “It’s not on any of the blueprints.”

  “Was the ritual room or the secret passage on the blueprint filed with the city?”

  “No,” she admits. “But that room was pretty barren. Where would he hide a secret passage?”

  “I don’t know, but I have a strong feeling that I’m right on this.”

  “Rebecca, what time is your date picking you up?” Celia asks while digging through her makeup drawer.

  “Six o’clock,” Rebecca replies. A sudden shriek comes through the phone deafening us. “That’s in half an hour. Gotta go.”

  “As for you, Kacie, don’t flinch or fight while I’m doing your makeup,” Celia says, shaking her finger at me. “You should be used to this by now with all the times I’ve done your stage makeup, and yet I always feel like you might bite my finger any minute…” She trails off, muttering under her breath about colors.

  “Just don’t make me look like a glamorized clown,” I say in a pleading tone.

  “Stop worrying,” she says while applying my foundation. “When have I ever let you down?”

  “Never. Thanks for helping me get ready, Celia,” I say, moving my mouth as little as possible. “I’m so happy I can avoid Dad and his camera.”

  “Too bad I already promised your dad lots of pictures.”

  “Traitor!”

  We walk across the grand lobby of the Hyatt arm in arm. Logan looks wickedly handsome in his black tuxedo. Celia blabbed about my dress, or else she helped him shop. His tie and cummerbund match my dress. We must look like a couple on the way to prom or maybe a wedding since it’s October and not May.

  As we approach the escalator leading to the ballrooms on the second floor I begin to have doubts. The hem of my dress brushes the floor even in my heels. Is there any way I can ride the escalator without getting the dress caught in it? Logan notices my distress and steers me toward the elevator bank. I give him a grateful smile.

  Colorful streamers in burgundy and royal blue hang from the ceiling in the magnificent ballroom. Multiple tables covered in matching tablecloths stretch out be
fore us. My arm is wrapped around Logan’s, and I clutch it with both hands when my nerves decide to take over. So many people I don’t know. Shyness creeps in, a siren song urging me to flee, or I may be forced to make small talk with a stranger. Before I have a chance to decide if I’m going to flee or not, Carl races over, grabbing my arm in his excitement.

  “Rebecca told me your theory,” Carl says in a booming voice that drowns out the ambient music. “I’m on board. We’ll go look for the secret passage tomorrow.”

  Logan looks at me with his brows raised. “What’s he talking about, Kacie?”

  “She had a revelation about the fallout shelter,” Carl says, bouncing with giddiness.

  A strange sight indeed. Carl in a tux is strange enough, but Carl in a tux jumping around like a little boy is too much. He sticks a finger in the neck of his shirt and fumbles with his black bow tie. Watching Carl, I understand why people sometimes call it a monkey suit.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Logan asks.

  I glance up at him, surprised by the hurt in his voice. His eyes are guarded as he stares back.

  “I got caught up in us,” I reply, regretting my words the moment they leave my mouth. Though it’s true, I feel like I revealed too much.

  “Good excuse,” he says winking at me. He extracts his arm from my tight grasp, wrapping it around my shoulders. “I like that I make you forget things,” he whispers in my ear.

  A bright flush creeps across my cheeks. “While I was getting ready, I thought maybe the fallout shelter has an entrance off the ritual room.”

  “Interesting theory,” Logan says nodding. “Yardley was a crafty planner. If the ritual room led to the fallout shelter, it would be easier to get his prisoners from one place to the other.”

  “But I still don’t know what object he used to bind his soul to our plane,” I say with a loud sigh. “I don’t think we can exorcise him without it.”

  “He’ll be weakened when we release the children’s souls,” he says, leading me over to a table laden with appetizers. “Eat. You need to keep up your strength.”

  “Yes, Dad,” I say, giggling.

  Logan rubs his chin with his hand. “Please don’t call me that.”

  Still laughing, I fill the plate with an assortment of food I don’t recognize. It’s all so beautiful. With any luck it’ll taste as good as it looks.

  “Have I told you how gorgeous you look tonight?” Logan asks in a husky voice as we sit down at an empty table.

  “Only about every ten minutes or so,” I reply blushing.

  He can say it as many times as he wants. I love it.

  “I couldn’t speak when I first saw you walking down the stairs,” he admits, looking away.

  “I couldn’t breathe while walking down the stairs,” I say. His cheeks are red again. “I was sure I’d tumble down.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Luck was on my side,” I say, glancing down when he turns his gaze to me. “You looked so amazing standing there in that tux. It’s a miracle I made it downstairs in one piece. Celia’s idea for a grand entrance was—”

  “Inspired,” he says cutting me off.

  “I was going to say fraught with danger,” I say laughing.

  “Hey, Logan, Cici,” Daniel says from behind us.

  Turning around, I swallow a slight gasp. Daniel looks good. I mean he always looks good but messy, or maybe casual. Tonight he looks like a movie star in his black tux. His hair is combed and styled instead of the normal careless disarray style he favors. He strikes a dramatic James Bond pose. Yep, there’s the Daniel I know.

  “I have to say, Cici, you look absolutely stunning tonight,” Daniel says in a low purr. He stares at me with his come hither pout.

  “Where’s your date,” Logan asks in a brusque tone. “Lost her already?”

  When I glance at Logan from the corner of my eye, I see his jealous glare. Misplaced. Daniel isn’t my type, no matter how handsome he looks tonight.

  “I get the feeling our little Raven is annoyed with me,” Daniel says with a casual shrug.

  I follow his gaze to the appetizer table across the room. Raven is talking to Rebecca. When she glances at us from across the room, I can feel her annoyance without being an empath.

  “What did you do to her?” I ask, rising from the table.

  “Nothing,” Daniel replies with a scowl. “One of my groupies lives next door to her. When I went to pick her up, groupie number three and her minions caused some trouble.”

  “Which one is groupie number three?” I ask, trying to picture Daniel’s annoying entourage in my mind.

  “The icy blonde bitch,” Daniel replies. “Raven hasn’t been around long enough to know I’m not really dating all those girls. Hell, I can’t even stand most of them.”

  “I’ll go talk to her,” I say, patting Daniel on the arm.

  He puts up with a lot of crap from those damn groupies, and as far as I know, he’s never encouraged them either. When Logan looks up at me with sad eyes, I lean down and kiss his cheek.

  “I’ll be right back, handsome,” I whisper in his ear, pleased when a broad smile extends across his face.

  As I approach Raven, I can’t help but notice how pretty she looks tonight. Her black hair falls in large waves around her shoulders. The sides are done up in several tiny braids draped and tied in back. Her full length cerulean gown brings out the blue in her eyes. It’s plain, like mine, no rhinestones or frilly lace to detract from the elegant appearance.

  Rebecca’s dress is adorable—strapless black lace with silver threads woven throughout. While Raven’s and my hemline brush the floor, Rebecca’s ends mid-thigh. I’ve never seen her look so trendy. In fact, I didn’t know she had legs.

  “About Daniel’s groupies,” I say when I reach Raven’s side.

  “Those bitches? I don’t care about them,” Raven says, tossing her hair in a motion reminding me of Celia. “I guess I just really enjoy torturing Daniel.”

  “I know what you mean,” I reply, biting my lip to hide my smirk. “He always reacts so well. Maybe it’s the acting.”

  “Drama king?” Raven asks, glancing over at Daniel.

  “Something like that,” I say, following her gaze. “You can really see what the groupies see tonight.”

  “I like him a lot,” Raven says. I gasp and whirl around to face her. She laughs. “I mean as a friend—only as a friend. He’s not my type at all. I hope I didn’t give him the wrong idea when I kissed him in front of Queen Bitch. She was treating him like a slab of beef. Pissed me off. So I guess I kinda marked him as mine.”

  “Um, how did he take it?” I ask, now worried about Daniel’s feelings.

  “We laughed about it all the way here,” Raven says, waving her fingers at Daniel. “I think we’ll end up good friends.”

  As she’s laughing, she pats my bare shoulder with her hand. The second her hand makes contact with my skin, she freezes. Her eyes glaze over as her fingers dig into my skin. Small tremors wrack her body. It’s obvious she’s having a vision or a premonition or something. I don’t know what to do. She snaps out of it after a few nerve-wracking moments, saving me the agony of coming to a decision.

  “What did you see?” I ask in a whisper.

  “This is bad,” she says as her eyes dart around the room.

  When her gaze lands on Logan, cold dread seeps through me. She stares at him for several moments, her head tipped slightly to the side as though she’s deep in thought. Lips in a grim line, she turns her gaze back to me.

  “What is it?” I ask in a tentative murmur. “What did you see?”

  “I saw Logan stabbed with an athame,” she says, closing her eyes. “I don’t know if he dies or not…”

  “No!” I shriek, slapping my hand over my mouth. “Where? When? Who? What’s an athame?” My questions come out an almost incoherent babble.

  “A ceremonial dagger,” Rebecca answers in a shak
y voice.

  Memories surface from my vision in the ritual room. Yardley was holding a dagger with a long, curvy blade. Sharp pain lances through my side. My hand flies to my ribs as my breath comes out in a pained whoosh. The pain disappears as quickly as it appeared, leaving me reeling a bit in its wake.

  “What happened?” Rebecca asks, clutching my arm.

  “Phantom pain from that vision I had last week,” I reply, shaking my head in an attempt to clear my muddled thoughts. “Raven, what did you see?”

  “Logan was stabbed in the stomach,” Raven says, lowering her head. “He was dressed all in black. I think he was wearing a Halloween costume. But that’s not the worst part…”

  “What could be worse than Logan being stabbed?” I ask when she remains silent.

  “The person who stabbed him…” She stares at me for a few moments without blinking then she closes her eyes. “Was you.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The Search

  Darkened landscape flies by in a blur of lights and shadows. My eyes don’t focus on anything as I gaze out the passenger window of Daniel’s SUV. Car thieves. That’s us. Never thought I’d be a party to grand theft auto except on my PlayStation. Yet here I am, squirming in the passenger seat while Raven races down the freeway toward Foxblood Manor.

  Raven’s premonition frightened me. I would never hurt Logan, so I don’t know what to make of it. Though I don’t know her all that well, I can’t think of any reason why she’d lie about such a thing. Besides, she saw me wearing a fairy costume when I stabbed Logan. I hadn’t even told Celia about the risqué costume hidden at the back of my closet. I was saving it for a surprise. I doubt Raven dug through my closet on the off chance she could present a fake premonition.

  “You know this is how girls always die in movies,” Rebecca says from the backseat. “Leaving the guys behind and rushing into danger alone.”