Tortured Souls (The Orion Circle)

by Wheaton, Kimber Leigh

  “This is so far from a movie, it’s not even funny,” I say while trying to keep the tears at bay.

  If Raven’s premonition is right, then Yardley must possess me. Sure it’s possible he possessed Logan, but I don’t think I could stab him even if he was possessed. No, I’d try to help him and probably get myself killed in the process. There’s little doubt—by Halloween, Yardley will possess me unless I take him out first.

  “But Raven’s vision happens on Halloween,” Rebecca argues. “That’s three days away. We should’ve brought the guys with us.”

  “The future is always in motion,” Raven says as she steers down the off ramp. Silence permeates the car while we wait for the red light to change. “There’s always the possibility the time of the attack could change if all the players are present.”

  “It’s so confusing,” Rebecca says with an aggravated sigh.

  “Agreed,” Raven says.

  Raven gasps as we pass through the monstrous wrought iron gates of Wooded Acres. With shaky movements she pulls the car to the side of the road.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask when she drops her head to the steering wheel.

  “Bad vibes,” Raven whispers. “Really bad… and I’ve seen some bad things before…”

  “Can you still drive?” Rebecca asks, leaning forward from the backseat.

  “Not safely,” Raven mumbles.

  “Guess it’s up to me then,” Rebecca says in a cheerful tone.

  “You’re only fifteen, like me,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You can’t drive.”

  “I’m not supposed to drive,” Rebecca says, pushing open the car door. I watch in silence as she helps Raven into the back. She smiles at me after she slides into the driver’s seat. “Shouldn’t and can’t are two different things. We already stole a car—I may as well drive without a license.”

  She takes off at a nice, slow pace down the winding road. I’m guessing Carl taught her to drive based on her style. My palms sweat from nerves. I’m about to wipe them on my legs when I remember the beautiful satin dress I’m wearing. Closing my eyes, I let my head fall against the headrest with a sigh. It’s obvious we didn’t give this endeavor enough thought considering we’re all wearing formal attire. Won’t we look cute nosing around secret passageways in formal gowns.

  “Maybe we should’ve gone home to change first,” I murmur.

  “That would give the guys time to figure out what we’re doing,” Rebecca says as she turns down the gravel road leading to Foxblood Manor.

  “Fate is a funny thing, Kacie,” Raven says with a loud groan. “God, my head hurts. This better pass soon or I’ll be useless in there.”

  “My head hurts too,” I say, pulling a travel size bottle of ibuprofen from my clutch. “Every time I come here I get a headache. Must be the dark energy or something.”

  “Thanks,” Raven says when I hand her two pills and a water bottle. “Anyway, we can’t have Logan showing up or the premonition may come true tonight.”

  “I’m confused,” Rebecca says as she slows the SUV to a crawl along the pitted road. “Why would you have the premonition that it occurred on Halloween if it could also occur tonight.”

  “It is confusing,” Raven admits. “Look at it this way. When I had the premonition, the key players and variables were going to be met on Halloween. If Logan shows up here tonight instead then that could change everything.”

  “The guys aren’t stupid,” I say, taking the water bottle back from Raven. I swallow the two pills in one gulp. “They’ll figure out where we went.”

  “Then I guess we should hurry,” Rebecca says, parking in front of the house. “Man, this place is spooky at night.”

  Gulping in a quick breath of air, I open the car door before I can lose my nerve. Rebecca’s right. This place is scary. Though it’s not the rundown, stereotypical haunted house in the movies, something about it feels… evil. Shadows dance across the brick exterior, and my eyes track the movements. My brain tells me it’s the moonlight and clouds causing the shadows, and yet that deeper part of me, the primitive drive to run from danger, doesn’t agree. A cold breeze blows by, sending my hair flying around my body. Goosebumps rise up along my arms, part from the cold but also from fear.

  “This house is beautiful,” Raven says, walking toward the front porch. “But the negative vibes are enough to send anyone running.”

  “Are you coming, Kacie?” Rebecca calls from the front door. How I wish I was a psychic null like her right now.

  “Yeah,” I say, grabbing Logan’s leather jacket from the front seat. After wrapping myself in a little bit of him, I feel not only warmer on the outside, but stronger inside. I’m glad he left it in the car the last time we were out with Daniel. Gathering my long skirt in my hands, I climb the stairs to join my friends on the porch.

  “All right, here’s the plan,” Rebecca says as she fits the key into the lock. “We stick together at all times. Never lose sight of each other, ever. Strength in numbers and all that. We head straight to the ritual room. Ready?”

  When Raven and I nod our agreement, she unlocks the front door. It swings open on silent hinges. I can’t help but chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?” Raven asks in a whisper.

  “The un-haunted house had squeaky hinges and the haunted house doesn’t,” I say with a high-pitched giggle. “Ironic.”

  My laughter betrays my nerves. If I wasn’t so scared, I’d be mortified that such sounds were emanating from me.

  “Long story,” Rebecca tells Raven. “Fill you in later.”

  Rebecca clicks on her flashlight, shining it on the walls lining the foyer. My body trembles as the small beam of light dances around, leaving most of the room in darkness. Fear grips me, closing my throat and making it difficult to breathe. I just know Yardley is lurking around here somewhere. Maybe he’s watching our every move right now. Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I follow Rebecca down the hallway towards the kitchen. Raven is so close behind me, I can hear her breath. She gasps as something scurries across the floor next to us.

  “A mouse,” Rebecca whispers as she shines the light on the cute little white mouse staring up at us with beady red eyes. “I think he’s someone’s pet. Wild mice normally aren’t white.”

  The mouse scampers off back the way he came, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m not afraid of mice, but I also don’t want to be alone in a dark hallway with one. With my nose buried in the neck of Logan’s jacket, I breathe in his lingering scent and my nerves calm. Maybe coming here without him was a mistake. Our powers seem are stronger when we’re together, especially when we’re touching.

  No. Raven’s vision can’t come to pass. He’ll be furious when he realizes what we’ve done. My cell is lying on the front seat of Daniel’s SUV. I bet I have multiple voicemails and texts by now. It’s been forty-five minutes since we left, he knows by now.

  “Wait,” I say as we creep past the sitting room.

  Rebecca shines the light into the dark room, illuminating the fireplace I remember from our last visit. With careful steps, I cross the room and grab the poker from the stand next to the hearth. I swing it in large arcs a few times, nodding in satisfaction.

  “Cold iron,” I say in a loud whisper.

  “Does that really work?” Raven asks while staring at the poker in my hands.

  “Most of the time spiritual energy is repelled by iron,” I reply shrugging. “I feel better holding it, that’s for sure.”

  “We’ll get some salt from the kitchen,” Rebecca says as we continue down the hall. “I wish I had a shotgun with rock salt like Sam and Dean.”

  “Why do I think you’d just end up shooting one of us?” Raven asks with a dry laugh.

  “I’m an ace shot, just so you know,” Rebecca says, turning to glare at Raven. “Born and raised Texan here.”

  “So why don’t we have shotguns with rock salt?” Raven asks while Rebecca digs through the pantry lo
oking for salt.

  “Mr. Kincaid thinks they’re too dangerous…” Rebecca’s voice is muffled, and the rest is drowned out by my laughter.

  “Too dangerous,” I choke out through giggles. “Like chasing homicidal ghosts is safe.”

  Why I always get uncontrollable giggles when I’m nervous is beyond me. Makes acting on stage a challenge. Raven joins my laughter, though hers is wry and cynical where mine is just hysterical. After a few more moments, Rebecca emerges with a bag of salt. She hands the salt to Raven, then motions for us to follow her down the narrow servants’ hallway.

  “What about you?” Raven asks.

  “This flashlight has a high concentration of iron,” she replies, holding up the long flashlight. It looks like something a security guard would carry. “Not that I’d actually see the ghost to use it.”

  “You’ve never seen a ghost?” Raven asks, sounding dumbstruck.

  “Psychic null here, remember,” Rebecca replies, swinging the light around the walls. “I can see their impact on things around us but not the ghost itself.”

  When we reach the end of the hallway, I’m surprised to see the secret passage open, almost in welcoming. A shudder courses through me.

  Is Yardley waiting for us on the other side?

  Rebecca leads the way through the narrow tunnel. The cobwebs are gone. It’s nice to walk without sticky strands grabbing my hair.

  “Who cleaned?” I ask.

  “Devon and Michelle,” Rebecca answers but doesn’t elaborate.

  When we emerge into the circular room, Rebecca flips on the lights. The light is blinding, and I blink rapidly trying to adjust.

  “If there’s power, why did we just sneak through the house in the dark?” Raven asks with a scowl.

  “We’re not supposed to be here, remember?” Rebecca replies with a snort of disgust. “I didn’t want to announce our presence.”

  “That would make sense if we weren’t out in the middle of nowhere,” Raven bites back.

  “Stop!” I yell a bit louder than I intended. “Let’s find this secret passage and get moving. Who knows how long we have before he shows up.”

  “Noted,” Rebecca murmurs, moving to the black stone altar. “Remember to stay within sight of each other. We aren’t going to be human fodder like in the movies.”

  Raven and I nod our agreement and begin the search.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Nothing Can Shelter Me from this Fallout

  The ritual room isn’t very large, nor does it have much in the way of décor. So finding the secret passage I’m sure is here should be easy, right? What’s that phrase… if wishes were fishes… yeah, whatever. After inspecting every inch of the black altar, we move on to the walls. Logic says it must be behind the massive bookcase filled with dark occult books. Well, maybe not logic, but popular culture. Over one hundred dusty tomes later and still nothing.

  “It’s a great theory, Kacie,” Rebecca says after a series of sneezes. Her last sneeze sends more dust flying around us. “But don’t you think we’d have found it by now?”

  “I can’t give up yet,” I say as tears fill my eyes. Though I try to convince myself they’re from the dust, I know better. “If the passage to the shelter isn’t here, then I don’t know how we’ll find it by Halloween.”

  “Well, Scooby and Shaggy would goof off and stumble into it,” Rebecca says with a half-hearted laugh.

  “Maybe I should’ve brought Kodiak. He’s a giant klutz,” I mumble while trying to wedge my fingers behind the bookshelf. For a brief moment, I feel a cool breeze on my fingertips. “Hey, I think I felt a breeze from behind here. Keep looking!”

  “It is odd that this shelf seems to be affixed to the wall,” Raven says, squatting beside the bottom shelf. “You’d think we could move it, or at least topple it.”

  “The switch doesn’t have to be on the bookcase,” Rebecca says, brushing the dust from her hands.

  We must look ridiculous—three girls rooting around for a hidden passage in formal gowns. I spin around, taking in every rounded wall in the room. Most are bare stone, no help there. We already searched every inch of the altar in the center of the room. What’s left? Sconces line the walls, so one of those could be a switch. But that’s so obvious. I watch Rebecca and Raven fan out to check each individual light fixture. It couldn’t be that easy. Then the passage might open anytime someone changed a light bulb. I just don’t think Yardley would make it that easy to find his inner sanctum.

  While thinking, I trace the inverted pentagram carved into the back wall with my finger. The stone is cool and smooth beneath my finger until I reach the point on the right. It feels different than the rest of the design. My heart leaps in excitement as I poke around the stone until I feel a small click beneath my finger. A loud grinding noise fills the room. I whip my head around looking for the source. The entire stone altar shifts to the side, revealing a stone staircase descending into darkness.

  As I approach the opening in the floor, the silver bracelet around my wrist begins to vibrate—short bursts of energy. Glancing down, I’m surprised to see it move in a steady beat, like a pulse. Blue light flashes with every other beat. I stare at it in confusion as it continues to pulsate.

  Mrs. Finley should’ve given me an instruction manual.

  Rebecca shines her light down the set of stairs leading underground. When she looks back up, I’m not at all surprised to see fear reflected in her eyes. Gathering the skirt of my gown in my hands, I step down onto the first stair. Nothing happens, and I exhale the breath I’d been holding. I don’t know quite what I was expecting, but images from Indiana Jones movies were flying through my mind. Another step and it’s become almost too dark to see.

  “I guess this is it,” Rebecca murmurs, taking the first step. “Kinda cramped, huh?”

  “At least we won’t lose sight of each other,” Raven says as she follows behind us.

  With careful steps, we descend into a small tunnel. Eight steps. I counted each one, expecting a trap to spring at any moment. The stone walls of the tunnel are lined with red candles. We pause while Rebecca shines her light around, checking out the walls, floor and ceiling. This tunnel was carved out of the limestone the house was built on. Warm air with a musty smell makes each breath difficult. We inch down the hallway until we come to a metal door with a radiation symbol on it.

  “This is it,” I say in an excited whisper. “The fallout shelter.”

  “But how do we open it?” Rebecca asks, eyeing the door with a wary look.

  “Let’s try the easy way first,” I murmur, grasping the valve-like door handle. It spins beneath my hands with ease, and the door swings open on silent hinges.

  “This tunnel has been cleaned, and the door maintained,” Rebecca says, taking several steps backwards. “Ghosts can’t do that. So who did?”

  “We have to keep going,” Raven says, patting Rebecca on the shoulder. “We came this far. We’re not running away scared.”

  After taking several deep breaths, I step over the threshold and enter the shelter. It looks just like it did in my vision. Cots with army green blankets line the walls, three high. Cabinets that stretch from floor to ceiling span the small distance between each set of cots. On the back wall I see the metal shelf filled with old canned goods. I’m about four steps in when I realize the electricity is on. The room is lit as bright as day. Did Rebecca or Raven turn on the light? No, it was already on when we entered.

  “I don’t think we’re alone in here,” I murmur over my shoulder.

  “Maybe we should leave,” Raven says, her eyes darting around the empty room.

  “No!” a frantic male voice cries from behind the metal shelves. “Don’t leave!”

  “Oh my God! Who is that?” Rebecca asks, the light from her flashlight bobbing with her tremors.

  “You heard it?” I ask, gasping at the implications. She nods her head. Her grip on the flashlight is so tight, her kn
uckles are white. “Then it couldn’t have been a spirit.”

  “Let’s go,” Raven says as she passes me to examine the metal shelves. “Whoever it is might need our help.”

  I admire her bravery. My feet don’t want to move. When I try to tell Raven how to move the shelving unit, the words never make it from my brain to my mouth. Instead, I crouch down, releasing the wheel lock with fumbling fingers. A short tunnel appears, leading to another brightly lit room. The ceiling is low enough that we have to bend over to make it through. At least it’s bigger than it was in my vision. With one hand I gather my skirt to keep from tripping. The other hand trails across the cool limestone. By the time I’ve counted to twenty in my head, I emerge into a small room.

  A wooden desk covers about half the room, with a bookshelf behind it. Limestone walls are covered with white bed sheets. Affixed to the sheets are hundreds of photos, grouped together by person. I recognize Ellie almost immediately. She has a lot more pictures than the others. It seems Yardley was watching her for quite a while before she was abducted. Pictures of her at school, at the pool, and the mall dominate an entire section. She’s not alone. Pictures of other girls surround Ellie. Were they other potential victims, future victims?

  Posted next to the pictures is a long list of names with dates of birth written beside them. Most have been crossed out—all but thirteen anyway. At the top of the paper is the name and address of a pediatric clinic. So that’s how he found his victims. They all went to the same pediatrician. One of his followers must have worked in that office. Sorrow settles over me. Fate can be so fickle. A trip meant to keep a child healthy ultimately led to death.

  “Uh, Kacie, you need to see this,” Rebecca says in a shaky voice.

  I cross the small room to stand by Rebecca. My eyes widen as I take in the array of photos before me. A whole montage dedicated entirely to me. And not all recent either. Some of the photos are from last year. How is this possible? My throat closes, making it difficult to breathe. Black spots dance across my field of vision. Terror squeezes my heart in a vise-like grip. I can hear my friends calling to me, but their voices are hollow in my ears.