by Apryl Baker
“Mattie Hathaway?”
I hear my name called and look up through blurry eyes. There’s a guy standing about twenty feet from me with my name held up on piece of paper. I blink, clearing the moisture from my eyes. He’s tall, really tall, probably well over six feet. And muscular. Maybe a bit too muscular for me, though. His brown eyes are warm and full of concern. They remind me so much of Dan’s in that moment, tears threaten. I have to forcefully remind myself I do NOT cry. I refuse to do it. I’ve shed enough tears over that boy in the last 24 hours to last a lifetime. No more.
“Yeah?” I ask, trying to stay focused on him and drown out the voices smothering me.
“I’m Caleb Malone. Dr. Olivet sent me to pick you up.” His voice is just as warm as his eyes. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it to me. “He said you’d want to call him.”
He’s right about that. No way am I getting into a car with some strange guy without verifying who he is. That’s how girls get raped and killed.
“Hey, Doc,” I say when he answers. “Just checking to make sure Muscles here is the guy you sent.”
Dr. Olivet laughs at my comment. “Yes, Mattie, Caleb is who I sent to pick you up. How are you feeling?”
By the eagerness in his voice, I’m guessing he knows how badly I’m being affected by the ghosts here in the city. I can see them streaming towards me from all corners.
“Doc, you and I have to have a chat about your eagerness when it comes to ghosts.”
He chuckles. “I’ll see you soon, Mattie, and thanks for coming down. I know you hate talking about your gift, let alone letting anyone see you when you use it.”
My eyes widen. I’d completely zoned that out. No one knows what I can do outside the Doc and Dan. I never let anyone see it. I’m not that kid, the weirdo everyone laughs at. I’ve worked too hard to hide this from everyone.
“Um, Doc, about that, can we please keep it between you and me?”
He’s very quiet and I get the distinct impression he might have already spilled the beans. Dang it!
“We’ll talk about it when you get here,” he says. “Can you put Caleb on the phone, please?”
I hand the phone over and glower at everyone around me. Freaking great. Now they all know what a freak show I am.
“Ready?” Caleb asks and attempts to take my carry on.
“I got it.” I wave him off. I can roll my own bag. Besides, I need it keep myself from falling. The ghosts really are affecting me more than I can handle right now. It hurts. I follow him outside and we board one of the shuttle buses that take us to the east parking deck. Caleb drives a beat up Ford pickup just like Dan, only Caleb’s F150 is huge compared to Myrtle.
I stow my carryon in the bed of the truck and then climb in. The seat is cloth and very, very comfy, like it’s seen a lot of wear over the years. Caleb turns the air on full blast, making me shiver even more. The oppressive heat outside actually helped me warm up just a bit, but now I’m back to freezing.
“Hey, do you mind if we cut the air down?” I ask after about twenty minutes. I’d love to turn the heat on, but I don’t want him thinking I’m weirder than he probably already does.
He smiles and I blink, seeing Dan for a second. It’s the jaw, I realize. His facial structure is so much like Dan’s, it’s amazing. They could be brothers.
“I’ll do you one better.” Instead of turning the air down, he flips it to the heat and leaves it on full blast. “You’re not the only one who gets cold when they come around.”
My head whips around and I stare at him. Does he mean what I think he means?
He grins at me. “Yeah, I see ghosts, too. How are you holding up? I know the first time I came to New Orleans the pain got so bad I passed out for a couple days. Freaked my parents out like nothing else.”
He was a Reaper, too?
“My brothers and my sister can see them, too,” he continues, ignoring my mouth-hitting-my-chin moment. “From what the Doc said, you’re a little different from us, though.”
“Different?” I ask.
“We really only see the bad ones, the ones who have gone vengeful and you see the good ones as well as the bad ones. He told us you were supposed to be a reaper or something.”
Doc had been very busy blabbing my secrets to all. I purse my lips at the thought. He and I are so gonna have a chat when I see him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this excited,” Caleb says. “He’s like a kid at Christmas.”
“Is the house really haunted?” I ask, keeping my voice low. My head is killing me. I’d sell an organ right about now if someone offered me some Motrin.
Caleb sighs. “I don’t know. We haven’t seen anything, but then you know ghosts only show themselves if they want to be seen.”
“But don’t you feel them?” I ask, shivering as more of them crowd into the truck. I close my eyes to keep from seeing the mutilated corpses, bloated flesh, and hollow eyes begging me to help them.
“Sometimes I get cold,” he says with a nod. “Like right now, I feel like we’re knee-deep in snow in an arctic blast. I’d guess there are a couple of them with us right now?”
I nod. “More than a couple,” I whisper. “Hundreds of them.”
My hand shakes as I raise it to push my hair out of my face. The pain is starting to get worse and my vision is blurring again.
“Mattie?” Caleb’s voice is full of worry.
“Yeah?”
“Your nose is bleeding.”
I touch the area between my lip and nose and my fingers come away bloody. Oh, this is so not good. Black spots start to appear and the voices scream at me, stabbing into my head one after another. It feels like someone is drilling away at my skull while someone else gleefully stabs my brain with an ice pick.
“Hurts,” I whisper. I’m down to one word sentences.
“Dad’ll know what to do,” Caleb tells me. “Don’t worry, Mattie. You’re gonna be okay.”
I don’t think so, but instead of stating the obvious, I concentrate on not passing out. The truck picks up speed and I can’t even pay attention to the gorgeous scenery I know is flying by us.
The farther we drive, the more intense the pain becomes. They’re screaming something at me. I can feel the fear pulsing in waves around me. We turn off the main highway onto a dirt road. The pounding in my head worsens and as we drive up to an old plantation home, I finally understand something. The fear they are giving off is fear for me. They are trying to warn me not to go into the house.
“Mattie are you ready to go inside?” Caleb asks as he parks the truck in front of the steps.
“Yeah,” I pant, my breath coming in short gasps. The ghosts are doing their best to warn me, but they’re hurting me. “Please stop shouting,” I whisper. “It hurts.”
“I’m not shouting.” Caleb frowns.
“Not you,” I tell him and open the passenger side door. My feet hit the ground a moment later and I catch hold of the door to keep from falling. I squint my eyes and look up at the old plantation home with its beautiful columns. I gasp as I feel the darkness emanating from it. It surrounds me and the ghosts wail in terror.
The pain behind my eyes intensifies and I see something standing on the porch. It’s hazy at first, but I can feel it. It’s daring me to come inside. That thing wants me in there. I’ve never come across a ghost like this. It’s full of hate and rage, but it is a ghost. It’s not like the demon thing from before. This is a ghost, but one unlike any I’ve ever come across.
I try to take a step and pain lances through my head, causing me to stumble. I feel the blackness coming and as much as I try to fight it, I can’t. I don’t want to go into that house.
It’s a bad, bad place full of bad things.
Chapter Nine
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I hear. My eyes are too heavy to open. Pain surrounds me. I feel like I’ve just been ten rounds with a bulldog and the bulldog won.
“It’s the onl
y thing I know that can block the whispers,” another deep voice speaks up.
“James, will that interfere with her gift, with what she can do? She’s not like you and the boys, her gift is different.” That’s the Doc. I’d know his voice anywhere. What are they talking about?
“I just don’t know, Doc.” I can hear frustration in the man’s voice. “We have to do something, though, and this is the only thing I know that will work. If we wait too much longer, she might hemorrhage.”
What? Hemorrhage? Then I remember my nose bleed. Is that what he means? Just freaking great. Survive a serial killer only to die because ghosts were trying to help me but ended up hurting me.
“Here, Dad, what about this?” Caleb maybe? “If we change the design just a bit, it might help her to control it without losing her ability. I did draw it right, yeah?”
“That’s not bad, Caleb,” the man says, pride in his voice. “This could work. We can always go back to the original design if her condition doesn’t improve.”
My condition? I manage to force my eyes to open a small crack only to be met by a blinding light. Pains stabs through my head again. It’s too much and I feel myself getting sucked back into the black hole of nothingness.
The next time I drag myself back to consciousness, it’s utterly quiet. I strain my ears, but hear nothing. My head isn’t exploding anymore, either. The cold is intense, but bearable and the whispers sound muted, not screaming full throttle.
I try to open my eyes and find that I can. The room is dark, so I can’t really make out anything, but I’m just glad I can do it without my entire being lighting up with shockwaves of pain. Deep breaths, I tell myself, and push up to a sitting position. The world doesn’t tilt and it’s a good sign. I listen again, trying to hear the ghosts talking. They’re muted. What in the world did Caleb and his dad do to me? Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but it’s weird not to be able to hear them in full technicolor. It’s like an old black and white movie, the sounds are fuzzy but you can almost make out what they’re saying.
The need for a bathroom motivates me and I swing my legs over the bed and wince at a sharp pain in my lower back. My hand finds the spot and it’s downright sore. I definitely need a mirror.
A small groan escapes as I stand up. I swear I feel like I’ve taken a serious beat down. Last time I felt like this was back in third grade when the school bully decided he wanted my lunch money, but I wanted it just as much. We’d ended up rolling around and I got the snot beat out of me. It’s a memory that sticks with me because not long after that I started to learn to defend myself.
I have seriously got to stop letting my emotions dictate my actions. If I hadn’t run from Dan and Meg and my own hurt feelings, I wouldn’t be in this situation right now. I could have been sitting home with Mary, eating a tub of ice cream and watching sappy movies. She’d have loved it and I would have been miserable, but at least I would have been safe. I don’t feel so safe right now.
This house makes me nervous and edgy. I feel like I’m being watched and the house itself is riddled with ghosts. Most seem afraid as none of them have shown themselves to me except for the one on the porch, but I can feel them all. Some are afraid, some feel lonely, but there are just as many that are angry and want to lash out. It’s those I’m worried about as I know firsthand that ghosts can cause a person serious harm when they want to.
More than anything, though, I’m worried about the ghost I’d seen earlier, the one who’d wanted me in this house. I don’t know why he did, but it can’t be a good thing. That ghost isn’t interested in crossing over. He wants something from me and I can bet its not something I’m willing to give.
I stub my toe against something hard and hop around on one foot for second. Where’s the danged light switch? My hand finds the wall and I make my way slowly towards the sliver of light I see under what I’m assuming is the door. Man, I need to pee. A hand grabs me just as I reach the doorknob and hauls me backwards. Something like electricity shoots through me when his fingers wrap around my arm. Reacting on instinct, I go limp and the hand loosens enough for me to turn and kick as hard as I can. I’m pretty sure I connected with his leg, but it’s not enough for him to let me go. My eyes are finally adjusting to the darkness and I can make out the basic outline of his shape. He’s much bigger than me, which means I have to play smart here. My hands are pretty useless since the attack, so I have to rely on my feet. I twist and try to land another blow, aiming for what I hope is his knees.
He jerks backward, narrowly avoiding my foot, but then he yanks me against him and in trying to get away, we both end up falling on the floor. After a few rolls, I’m pinned to the floor and seething mad.
“Will you stop?” he hisses, his face close to mine.
Instead of answering, I do exactly what I was taught to do. I head butt him as hard as I can. Pain explodes in my own head, but he loosens his grip enough for me to throw him off and jump on his back. I grab a fistful of his hair and slam his face against the floor several times. He’s cussing up a storm all the while. I grab his forearm and force it behind his back and up, exerting just the right amount of pressure. If he moves, he’ll snap his arm.
Gotcha.
The door slams open and light floods the room. I don’t glance back. Even the slightest hesitation on my part could cause me to loosen my grip enough for him to get away.
“Mattie, what are you doing?” Doctor Olivet asks, his voice incredulous.
“This guy attacked me,” I say and pull on his arm just a little harder.
“Eli attacked you?” Caleb comes into my line of sight.
“No, I did NOT attack her,” the guy beneath me snarls. “I was trying to help her.”
“You were not! You grabbed my arm and…”
“And nothing,” he growls. “I was trying to get your attention so you didn’t kill yourself in the dark.”
“Then you should have said something instead of grabbing me!”
“As funny as this all is, Mattie, do you think you could let my son up before you break his arm?”
I know that voice. I remembered it from before. He was the one who was trying to help me. Caleb’s dad?
Caleb reaches a hand down to me and I take it, releasing my hold on his brother’s arm and let Caleb pull me up. Eli slowly gets to his feet and settles gorgeous aqua eyes on me. They are spitting mad. My breath catches a little when I take in his face. Good lord, I’ve never in my life thought of a boy as beautiful, but this one is. He’s tall, as tall as Caleb, but his hair is lighter than his brother’s. It’s a dark brown, but it’s streaked with caramel highlights, giving it a lighter appearance. His complexion is darker, a golden color compared to Caleb’s softer tones. High cheekbones speak of an Indian heritage and a day’s worth of facial hair make his face rugged and soft, full lips make me want to see how soft they’d feel against mine.
It’s his eyes, though, that I can’t look away from. His eyes remind me of one of the few things I love. They are like the ocean right at daybreak, when the waves are soft and the foam rushes the sand. I’ve never seen anyone with eyes that color.
“Dude, you got your ass kicked by a girl.” Caleb laughs, not even trying to conceal his smirk.
Eli lunges at his brother, but his dad catches him before he can move three inches. “Caleb, don’t antagonize your brother. I’m sure he didn’t expect her to come out swinging.” There’s a grin on their dad’s face and fortunately, Eli doesn’t see it as he’s still glaring menacingly at me and Caleb.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Dad,” Caleb grins.
Doctor Olivet sighs. “Mattie, how are you feeling? Is your head still hurting?”
“I’m okay,” I tell him. “Um, Doc, where’s the bathroom? I really need to find one.”
“I’ll show you.”
I step away from Caleb and make a wide girth around Eli to follow Doc down the hall. The bathroom is only three doors down from my room and it’s absolutely gorgeous. The room is all
white with gold accents, but I don’t mind that. The old fashioned tub calls my name. It’s huge and deep. The toilet is modern, but everything else in the room screams 19th century. The only splashes of color are the deep blue towels.
After taking care of my urgent need to pee, I rinse out my sewer mouth. Dear Lord, it tastes foul. How long had I been out? Now that I’ve taken care of my immediate needs, I don’t really want to leave the bathroom. Truth be told, I’m a little embarrassed, something entirely new for me, but there it is. I grew up with the mentality of hit first before you get hit. Being a foster kid who lived in some really bad homes, I had to think like that. It gave me a bit of a reputation.
I lost my last boyfriend, Jake, because he saw me beat the snot out of his friend Tommy for threatening me. It disturbed him to know that the rumors about me were true. I mean it’s one thing to hear about it, and another to see it live, up close, and personal. He was the first guy I ever dated who I thought might be able to see past all the shields I put up and see me. He did see the softer side most never bothered to get to know, but the first time he met the foster kid who doesn’t take crap from anyone, he bailed. I mean, he didn’t even officially break up with me. He just stopped talking to me. Not even a text or phone call when I was in the hospital recovering from Mrs. Olson’s torture. It hurt a lot more than I liked to admit. I really, really liked Jake, but he couldn’t handle the real Mattie Hathaway any more than the other guys.
I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. I have curls and they are snarled and tangled. My face is pale and the skin under my hazel eyes is bruised. I look awful. The past couple months have been rough on me. I’ve lost weight and I’ve closed myself off more than usual. It’s not healthy. Nancy wants me to see a psychologist, but I keep refusing. Shrinks I don’t do. I’ll eventually get a handle on being tortured without any help. I will. Maybe if I say it enough, even I’ll believe it.