“How?” I croak, falling to my knees on the limestone floor.
“That would be me.” It’s that same male voice again.
He sounds quite pleased with himself. I know I’ve heard the voice before, but I can’t seem to place it.
“Who are you?” Raven asks in a harsh tone. “Why are you here?”
“I live here,” he says, closer this time. “I do my father’s bidding. Since he’s been building up power, there’s little choice in the matter. Not that I mind.”
“Your father?” Rebecca asks as she pulls me to my feet. “Who’s your father?”
“Lucas Yardley, of course,” he replies in a haughty tone.
Once the world stops spinning around me, I turn to look at the owner of the voice. He’s a man, maybe fifty. The man preens under our scrutiny, a proud smile plastered on his face. Sunken eyes dart all around the room. A shock of silver hair crowns his head, cut short but erratic, as though he cut it himself without a mirror. He’s a walking contradiction. His body looks as though it’s falling apart, but his attitude is larger than life.
“You look so familiar,” I murmur, watching the strange man caress the photos of me in a loving manner. “Uh, what’s your name?”
“Bob,” he says, nodding his head. “Bob Carter.”
It suddenly hits me. This is Mr. Carter, the owner of the house. The one who called us to investigate in the first place.
“Why are you in here, Mr. Carter?” Rebecca asks, creeping closer inch by slow inch.
“Scared,” he replies, his voice tinged in anguish, his hands fisted in his messy hair. “My head hurts.” His proud arrogance is gone in the face of his pain.
“Did you take these pictures, Mr. Carter?” I ask, pointing to the images with my face staring back.
Mr. Carter’s face lights up at the mention of the pictures. “Yes!” he says with enthusiasm. “Good, right? Father was so proud of me.”
“Yes, they’re lovely,” I reply, confused by his abrupt mood swings. “Why did you take these pictures?”
“Father told me to,” Mr. Carter says, his face darkening again. “He wants you.”
“For what?” I ask, my voice rising with my fear. “Why does Lucas Yardley want me?”
“To live again, of course.” A chill courses through me at the new voice coming from Mr. Carter’s mouth—deep, male, and ethereal.
“Holy crap! He’s possessed,” Rebecca says in a high-pitched squeal.
“What gave it away?” Raven asks in a shaky, yet wry tone. “The maniacal gleam in his eyes or the freaky voice change?”
“What do we do?” Rebecca asks as she backs away from the laughing man.
A chill permeates the room, cooling it enough that I can see my panting breaths in small white clouds. Help has arrived. Wind gusts around Mr. Carter/Lucas Yardley turning into a fierce whirlwind within moments.
“Quick, while he’s distracted!” I yell over the raging wind. “Find the relic.”
As I dart around Mr. Carter, he makes a grab for my arm but is thrown backward by an unseen force. He hits the wall with a loud thud before sliding down and crumpling to the ground. For a moment I can’t see anything as my once perfectly coiffed hair whips around my body. I can almost hear Celia cry in frustration. Once my vision clears, I move to the desk and rifle through the drawers. Nothing. I know from my vision that the rib bones were made into a macabre ritual necklace. It just has to be here!
“Back here,” a tiny voice says from behind me.
Turning around, I’m surprised to see a small child holding a battered plush bear. She hugs the bear to her chest while biting her lower lip. The girl is translucent, silvery white in appearance. With a shaky finger, she points to the back wall next to the bookcase. I’m about to ask her why she’s pointing when her image crackles and disappears. The only thing on the wall is one of those old velvet paintings. This one is a skull with roses and barbed wire. Ripping it from the hook on the wall, I stagger under the weight. It drops to the floor, barely missing my feet.
Part of me expects to find a safe, like in an old mystery movie. There’s always a safe behind the painting. Instead there’s a dark hole about a foot wide. I don’t want to stick my hand in there. With shaking hands, I push the end of the long poker into the hole and move it around. It seems to snag on something, but when I pull the poker out, whatever it was stays behind.
Loud groaning forces me to give up my tentative search and do what I was trying to avoid. Mr. Carter is coming around, and we’re running out of time. Cringing, I stick my hand into the hole, praying there are no spiders or scorpions within. My fingers brush against satin, and I grab the bundle, yanking it from its hiding place. With shaking hands I unwrap the package, breathing a relieved sigh when I find the rib bone necklace.
“I’ve got it!” I yell to my friends, holding my prize in the air. “Now what?”
“Toss it to me,” Rebecca says, holding out her hands. “There’s a burn barrel by the barn.”
“How are you gonna make the fire hot enough to burn bones?” Raven asks, her eyes never leaving Mr. Carter’s groaning form.
“Daniel has a hunter’s pack in the SUV. There’s lighter fluid,” Rebecca replies, shaking her hands in her urgency. “Come on, toss it here. You’ll have to deal with him.”
I throw the necklace to her, and she takes off running once she has it. When Mr. Carter moves to sit up, Raven bashes him over the head with an odd looking statue. He crumples back to the ground, but it’s not enough to knock him out.
“We have to find the relic tying his spirit here,” I say, reaching back into the black hole. After groping around, I realize it’s empty now.
“I’ve got his athame! This must be it,” Raven says, holding the ceremonial dagger in the air. “Let’s get out of here!”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Free at Last
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. My bracelet is pulsing so fast, it’s like a second heartbeat. The rapid beat spurs me into action. I leap over Mr. Carter’s flailing legs, thankful Celia let me get away with wearing my character shoes from drama. If I can dance on stage in the shoes, then I can run through a creepy mansion in them as well. Raven follows, a bag of salt cradled in one arm and the black athame brandished before her. We race through the shelter and into the dark tunnel. It’s only then I realize we don’t have a flashlight. I slow down in the shadows only to speed up again when several crashes sound from the shelter behind us.
As I pass the black stone altar, my bracelet pulses a frantic beat. I stop to stare at it, and Raven gives me a gentle push forward. She’s right. There’s no time to worry about it now. The bracelet is probably reacting to the evil emanating from that insidious structure. When we reach the longer tunnel, I enter with my eyes closed, running my hand along the wall to guide me. I’ll have to remember to bake a cake or something for Michelle and Devon as thanks for cleaning this awful thing.
At the end of the secret passage, I gather my skirts in my free hand and run through the kitchen toward the front door. Bursting through the open door, I come to a dead stop when I see Logan’s Mustang parked behind the SUV. Raven comes to a halt beside me.
“Crap, they found us,” I murmur, looking around for Logan. “We’d better go find Rebecca before your premonition has a chance to come true.”
“You stab him with this athame,” Raven says, clutching the dagger close to her chest. “Don’t touch it for any reason.”
I nod before running around the side of the manor toward the barn. Rebecca is in the front next to a barrel with flames leaping from the inside. My heart soars when I see Logan and Daniel standing beside her. The moment Logan’s eyes meet mine, we race toward each other. I drop the poker to the ground before throwing myself at him. He catches me in his arms, holding my trembling body in his tight embrace.
“I was so worried about you,” Logan murmurs, leaning his forehead against mine. “Why did you run?”
“No time for that now. Look!” Rebecca shouts.
Large silver orbs shoot out from the burn barrel, careening through the air in swooping arcs. One flies so close to our heads that Logan and I both duck away from the odd ball of light. Some fly off into the night, while others merge together, forming a silvery image that slowly takes shape before us. Ellie steps forward from the silver light holding a small wispy infant in her translucent arms.
“You did it,” Ellie says with a brilliant smile while watching the orbs flying around her. “We’re finally free. Thank you all so much. We can finally move on, away from the unending sorrow and pain.”
“Goodbye, Ellie,” I call out as her form begins to fade away. She lifts her hand and waves before fading into a silver orb that shoots up towards the heavens. “Rest in peace,” I whisper to the starry sky.
“Now to take care of Yardley once and for all,” Raven says, holding up the athame.
“Wait, let me hold that before you destroy it,” Daniel says, taking the dagger from Raven. Closing his eyes, he holds the dagger in both hands for several moments. “His soul is not bound to this athame.”
“What?” I cry, pulling away from Logan. “It has to be. We decided this was the only thing it could be bound to.”
“I’m sorry, Kacie, but this is just an ordinary athame with a very evil vibe,” Daniel replies, dropping the dagger to the ground. He brushes his hands together as though trying to rid himself of the taint. “I’m sure I’d feel it if his soul was attached. This athame was used in some heinous rites but that’s it.”
Despair creeps into my soul as I stare at the athame lying in the dirt at my feet. How will we stop Yardley now? I bite my lip when my eyes start to burn. Crying won’t solve anything. Leaning down, I pick up the object I was so sure would set me free from the Foxblood Demon. How could we have been so wrong?
“Kacie, don’t—” Raven yells, but it’s too late.
My fingers close around the warm hilt. The silver bracelet around my wrist reacts with violent shocks and pulses. I try to drop the dagger, but my right hand refuses to release it. With a pained cry, I grasp the dagger in both hands trying to wrench it from my grip.
“It’s stuck to my hand!” I cry out in alarm. “How is this possible? Help!”
“Logan, get away from Kacie!” Raven shouts when he reaches out to help me with the demonic blade.
Her warning is once again too late. The athame acts all on its own, slashing down Logan’s arm, tearing through the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket.
“No!” I scream, shaking my hands in an effort to dislodge the blade.
“I’m okay, it’s just a scratch,” Logan says, backing away from me.
“What’s happening?” I manage to choke out through the terror gripping me. “You said Yardley wasn’t attached to this thing.”
“A spell maybe…” Raven says, her eyes never leaving the curved, black blade. “It would be the darkest magic.”
Daniel grabs the blade and rips the dagger from my hands, slicing open his hand in the process. Without hesitation, he throws it into the raging fire. Blood gushes from the deep wound on his palm.
“Logan, take off your jacket,” Raven orders in a calm voice that belies the wild look in her eyes. After he drops the jacket to the ground, she grabs his torn sleeve and rips it from his arm. “Crap this isn’t going to be enough. Rip off your other sleeve.”
A loud ripping sound fills the air as Logan yanks off his other sleeve. I stand rooted in place, staring at Daniel, perhaps in shock, unable to move or offer help—just watching the blood gush from his injured hand. Raven balls up part of one sleeve and presses it to the wound while winding the other pieces around his hand. By the time she’s finished, Daniel’s hand is mummified beneath several layers of Logan’s shirt.
“This should stop the bleeding,” Raven says, staring at her bloody hands.
Logan peels off his shirt, handing it to Raven, and she wipes her hands on the white cloth. My eyes move from Daniel’s hand to Logan’s rather nice torso. The sight jolts me out of my stupor.
For a brief moment I’m torn. Part of me wants to run to him and lose myself in his embrace… to pretend none of this hell around us exists. The other part wants to get as far away as possible before I hurt him. My eyes move from his chest to meet his forlorn gaze. With a choked sob, I fall into his arms, resting my head on his shoulder.
“It’s going to be okay, Kacie,” Logan whispers against my hair.
“How?” I ask, pulling back to look at him. “I have no idea what he tied his spirit to… I should’ve listened to my mother.”
“Your mother…” Logan trails off, a thoughtful look on his face. “That’s it!”
“What?” I ask, perplexed at his sudden excitement. “What’s it?”
“I think I know what his spirit is tied to,” he says, placing his hands on my upper arms. “This is important. I need you to distract his spirit. He can’t know what I’m up to.”
“But how can I—” Before I can finish my question, the air around us grows frigid.
“Trust me,” Logan says. He kisses my forehead then runs off toward the house.
“He’s here,” Rebecca screams as she spreads the salt on the ground around Daniel in a large circle.
“Cici, run!” Daniel shouts, shooing me away with his uninjured hand. “If you keep moving, it’ll be harder for him to possess you.”
“I’m going to go help Logan,” Rebecca says, darting away with a frightened look on her face.
Gathering my long skirt in my hands, I jog around the side of the barn, relieved when the fierce cold I was feeling moments earlier fades. I’m stopped in my tracks when a misty figure appears in the darkness before me. Without a second thought, I run back the way I came, towards the flickering light of the fire. Daniel has collapsed to the ground, most likely from blood loss. Behind him Raven hovers, brandishing the iron poker at some misty wisps of… something. Whatever it is fails its attempt to cross the salt circle.
Not wanting to draw Yardley’s ghost to them, I run over to the house where the porch lights are blazing. As I round the corner, I realize the entire manor is lit up. It looks as though Logan flipped on every light switch he passed. I run past the open front door, out onto the gravel driveway. My lungs burn, and even with my cross country training I don’t think I can keep up this zigzag running much longer. After passing the parked cars, I stop to lean against one of the columns lining the wrap-around porch.
Several crows touch down on the railing next to me, staring at me with beady black eyes. The air grows cold, signaling the arrival of Yardley’s spirit. Frigid wind spirals around my body, rooting me to the spot. Panic seizes me when I realize I can’t move my limbs. One crow, the largest of the bunch, hops over next to me then lets out a loud caw.
Flapping black wings fill the air as the crows take flight. They swoop and caw, attacking the silvery outlines of Yardley’s phantom presence. I watch in amazement as the wispy shadow flees, heading toward the barn. Several crows chase it while the rest settle back down on the porch railing.
“Kacie!” I hear Logan shout behind me. “Are you okay? What happened? What’s with the crows?”
It takes several tries before I can speak. “I-I think, I mean… the crows… they—I think they just saved me from Yardley.” Logan takes my hand, leading me away from the porch and my unusual saviors. Glancing over my shoulder, I’m unsurprised to see the remaining crows watching my departure. “Thank you,” I call out to the birds. Several ruffle their feathers and spread their wings.
“That was weird,” Logan says, pulling me towards the barn. “Do you have a natural affinity with animals?”
“I love animals, but that’s about it,” I reply still confused about what just happened.
“Aren’t you gonna ask me if I found it?” Logan asks with a brash grin.
My heart leaps. “I take it by your expression, you did.”
“Thank your mother for this one,” he says holding up a hideous goat mask. I reach out to touch the strange looking thing. “I never would’ve thought of this mask if she hadn’t mentioned it. I think the hair on it is Yardley’s.”
“Eww, gross,” I say, pulling my hand back in disgust. “I almost touched that thing!”
“Hair is technically a body part,” Logan says, holding up the goat mask. “See it could only be the athame if it had his blood on it or was made from his bones.”
My spirit soars when the burn barrel comes into view. Only a few more steps and this nightmare will be over for good. One moment Logan is beside me, running toward the barn, the next he’s gone. I turn to see him fly through the air, skidding to a rough landing in the gravel. The mask flies from his hand as he hits the ground and is snatched by a white wisp of smoke. Yardley!
“Logan, are you okay?” I ask when I reach his side.
He groans and sits up. “Crap—that hurt like hell!” He groans, massaging his shoulder.
“You’re covered in road rash,” I murmur as I look him over.
He landed on his right side, and his entire shoulder, arm and upper back are covered in gravel. When I try to tend to his wounds, he knocks my hand away.
“I’m fine,” he says, pushing himself to his feet. “We need to get that mask back.”
“Yardley took it,” I say, allowing Logan to pull me back to my feet.
“Where?”
“I don’t know. At the moment I was more worried about you.”
A loud cacophony of caws echoes all around us. I look up and my jaw drops. Dozens of crows fill the night sky. Black feathers rain down around us from the fighting birds. They take turns swooping at Yardley’s wispy phantom image, battering what seems to be an invisible shield. Silver mist wraps around the goat mask protecting it from the birds. Logan and I stand transfixed, confused and unsure what to do.
Tortured Souls (The Orion Circle) Page 22