Everything hurt. The emotions the man implanted in me continued to flow, a residual haunting of being alive. Longing reverberated through me. I didn’t have a clue what this new entity was. Sitting up, I held my head to make it stop spinning, only to find Jackson sitting beside me. His sandy hair fell forward, brushing his jaw, and he regarded me with a solemn blue-eyed stare, holding my hands tightly in his.
“You’re lucky I stopped it when I did.”
I squinted at him. “How did I get inside?”
We were in the attic, on my old bed, and light from a full moon streamed in through the window. My feet itched with the desire to run down the stairs and into the yard, to call out to the being and say “yes, help me”. Realistically, I should find out more about it first. Had it always been here? Was it connected to the other ghostly activities centered on my land?
Jackson interrupted my musings. “You froze, staring off into space, laughing and smiling at things that weren’t there. Nothing I did recaptured your attention. So I interrupted and carried you up here.”
Carried me, like the pitiful damsel in distress I was. Seriously, I hated people having to take care of me or come to my rescue. I wasn’t ungrateful, just unused to it. It was like my life splintered around me, pieces flying off into space, pieces I couldn’t grab hold of again. Then, the moment I thought I’d have a chance to return to normal, someone messed it up. Someone came in and snatched a genuine opportunity right out of my hands.
I sent Jackson a cold look. “It wanted to help me. To give me back my life.”
He flinched, loosening his grip. “And if you believe that, you’re no better than Catherine. You asked for my help, so listen to me when I say nothing that thing offers will come without a price. A price you cannot afford to pay.”
“How do you know this?”
“Because it is what controlled Catherine.” Jackson shook his head. “You must be careful. I learned once it is often the sweetest, prettiest bloom that is the most deceitful, the one carrying the most deadly toxins.”
I scowled. The warm glow from my visions was still too fresh for me to let go of. Jackson didn’t need to hear about how my curiosity had only been piqued. I had to be cautious. Once he heard I actually harbored intentions of contacting this entity again he’d probably lock me up and throw away the key.
“This one is male,” I muttered. “Different than what I’ve seen before.”
“There are two,” he shared grudgingly. “A male and a female. The one you just experienced feeds off a spirit’s will, offering irresistible temptations. It needs a host, such as what Catherine provided with your stepmother. It must be searching for another since she succeeded in taking your body. These beings are old.” His voice trailed off at the last part.
“Older than you? I mean, were they here before Catherine’s family?” I tried to digest the fact some creepy soul sucker had been plaguing my ancestors possibly since the beginning and just offered to fix all the wrongs in my life. Maybe a malicious spirit followed them over from Ireland, where I’d traced our roots.
Jackson interrupted my train of thought. “Before me, but we never knew entirely. There were rumors, stories of vengeful slave spirits. I always believed Catherine figured it out. Growing up, the lives of the slaves captivated her, especially their religions, what you call voodoo. She paid more attention to the rumors than I did.”
“Voodoo? Catherine?” As hard as I tried, I couldn’t picture her caring about anything as trivial as religion. Then, an image of her sticking pins in a voodoo doll and giggling surfaced. No, I totally saw it. “What if Catherine found a way to practice on her own? Maybe she called some big baddie to help her and couldn’t control it.”
“I think, with her, anything is possible.” He almost sounded proud of her. “But, frankly, this started before she was even born. Although, it would not hurt to investigate the voodoo angle. Whatever you do, take care of yourself.”
My mouth dropped open, not only at what he said, but because it came so freely. Naturally, I grew suspicious. “Why are you being nice?”
His lips lifted in amusement. “I am capable.”
“Surprise.” I couldn’t stop the sarcasm. “So, these things are linked to Catherine?”
His mood soured as he considered how to answer. Eventually, he said, “The female’s history is entwined with the boy’s. A story filled with grief and hatred.”
I waited for more but got nothing. I groaned in frustration. “Do you mean George? And what do you mean entwined?”
“It is not my place to say.” He stared blankly at the wall.
“Okay, can you tell me anything about the male entity?”
“Don’t provoke him.”
“You are so damn frustrating,” I bit out, slapping the mattress. “Why can’t you get over yourself and talk to me?”
“What difference will it make, Quinn? Why does my interpretation of another person’s story matter? How does my sad tale help?”
“It keeps me from feeling so alone,” I answered quietly. That was what it all boiled down to. Realistically, I didn’t expect a miracle. My existence, and my future with the person I thought I loved, wasn’t mine anymore. But I wasn’t ready to give up. I would fight like hell not to end up as one of the sad spirits wandering around town. As long as I tried, I stayed connected to everything I lost. Giving in to the crushing loneliness would kill me for real.
Unbidden, the desire to see Boone manifested. I felt so normal in his presence, which was about as strange as strange could get after such a short period. I stared at Jackson, consoled a little by the sorrow in his expression. Boone wasn’t the only one I counted on to see me.
“It’s nice to not be invisible,” I told him. “I’m sure you understand what it’s like.”
“You always saw me.”
“Kinda. I mean, when I was younger I sensed someone there, but it took me a while to actually notice a person. The ability grows with me. I don’t know why I was born with this so-called gift to see spirits and communicate with them. Mama talked about ghosts so much I used to assume it rubbed off on me.”
“You inherited it from her.”
Breath whooshed from my lungs in shock. “Did you...did you ever talk to her?”
“A couple times, nothing compared to you and me.” A tiny smile played at his lips. “Your father was a Roberts, so it’s a strange coincidence she married into a family with history such as yours when she had the power to observe us. Meant to be, in a sense.”
He paused, and I thought he was done. An ache bloomed in my chest, hearing about my mama, but it also felt wonderful.
“Not long after you were born,” he continued, “I passed by the doorway to your nursery. Your mother, Diane, held you in her arms, and I lingered for just a second. She stared at you with such tenderness. It made me long for all the things I missed out on.”
I sighed, pushing the non-existent air past the lump in my throat. “I wish I’d known her longer.”
“The ones we love never truly leave us.” He said, sounding a lot like a cheesy greeting card.
“Thank you.” Then a memory assaulted me. “I’ll never forgive Catherine for what she did, for hurting her.”
“It wasn’t Catherine’s fault.”
I shot him a glare, snatching my hand back. “She tried to possess her, like with Marietta. Mama fought so hard she had a brain aneurism and died. Who else am I supposed to blame?”
“Whatever controlled Catherine.”
“But she let it in,” I ground out. “Which makes her responsible.”
“All you know is who she is now. If you’d met her—”
“You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I’ve helped you!” He struggled to regain his composure. “You might not believe me, but I don’t enjoy seeing you suffer.”
“Then, for God’s sake, do something about it,” I mumbled. “I’m so sick of these see-sawing emotions.”
“You’re new, give it a c
hance. Eventually, all these raw emotions you’re feeling will fade.”
“I don’t want them to fade. I miss Jason. He’s slipping from me.”
“Don’t let him be your sole reason for fighting. If you let it, living up to the expectation will be impossible for him. Part of accepting this form is to let go of all the things you once dreamed of.” Jackson stood abruptly, his expression guarded, and cleared his throat. “If you’re better, I’ll leave you be.”
Then he vanished. I stuck out my lower lip. So far I hadn’t mastered the whole disappearing into thin air thing, not on purpose anyway. I hoped I didn’t stay in this stupid afterworld long enough to find out.
For the first time, Jackson had given me a hint of why he stuck around. His love for Catherine hadn’t lessened, not after all the years and the horrible acts she committed. Why did he torture himself by staying? Had he done what he warned me about and made it all about her? It didn’t make sense. As far as I knew, he didn’t die on the property. Unless there were things I’d yet to learn. Without knowing the truth, what could I accomplish?
Jackson was such a conundrum, always trying so hard to pretend he didn’t care about anyone, then in the next minute, giving me more information than I asked for. The events I witnessed in this house were connected to both entities residing in the yard. I was positive of it. The only problem lay in finding out how and why I hadn’t been aware of them before.
Which brought my musings to George. If he was involved somehow, he’d be able to tell me the most. I needed to find out what Jackson meant by the crazy lady’s history being connected to the boy.
I hopped off the bed, as well as I was able, and happened to glance at my clothes. Had I known that night in the cemetery I’d be stuck forever in the same outfit, I might have chosen something better than boot cut jeans and turquoise scoop neck tank top. Despite everything that had happened, the clothes were in pristine condition, wrinkled but clean.
I was so over looking at them. Every. Single. Day.
Reaching down, intending to grip the hem of the shirt and pull it over my head, my fingers slipped right though the material. Same with the button of the jeans. Obviously, changing was out of the question.
Brushing the frivolous thought aside, I went off in search of George. And answers.
After not finding him anywhere on the second floor, I used the rear staircase, near the kitchen. Determination drove me, made me hunger for information. Right before stepping foot in the room, a slight flutter erupted in my chest, infusing warmth into my limbs. Steeling myself against another sickening display of Catherine and Jason making out, I squared my shoulders and prepared for the gag-worthy sight. How much longer could I gross out at the sight of him kissing me? A perverted form of reverse psychology. If I saw it enough, and hated it enough, soon I wouldn’t want to kiss him at all once I got my body back.
To my relief and disappointment Jason wasn’t there. Just Catherine, leaning against the counter and looking at something on what appeared to be a brand new laptop, cell phone plastered to her ear. Happiness lit her face, and envy shot through me like a knife. Oh joy, more torture for the poor specter.
“I miss you, too,” she cooed into the phone.
I wrinkled my nose. I’d never cooed a day in my life. Flirting was awkward, forced, and I only got to practice with Jason for a short while. I sucked at it.
Catherine giggled, another sound I rarely made. “I have thought about it, more than you know. This is my chance to start new, to spread my wings in a way I couldn’t before, so I think I’ll stay in Savannah for now.”
The conversation piqued my interest, and I took a couple steps forward, wishing I heard his responses. She didn’t acknowledge my presence, and for some reason, it bothered me. The idea of her being so caught up in talking to Jason she didn’t notice a ghost in front of her caused a dull fire of hate to slowly build inside me. I concentrated on it, letting it grow.
“It’s getting better. Everything was so different when Marietta was around. It’s hard to suddenly adjust to being alone.” Her lips curved up in a bright smile at something he said. “I didn’t mean alone, alone. You’ve made it bearable.”
My eyes narrowed, and the rage inside me became a monster, snarling and begging to be let loose.
“I do enjoy it, but ever since the night we saved Marietta I can’t bring myself to do any ghost hunting. That world doesn’t feel the same anymore.”
I considered this for a moment. If we’d been successful, and I actually maintained a hold on my body, would I want to explore haunted locations again? Or had all the horrors I experienced changed my perception of the paranormal? No. My curiosity remained hungrier than ever. I might have witnessed the dark side, but it wouldn’t stop me from wanting to learn more.
“Fine,” she sighed out. “I know you had fun that night at Moon River. Maybe I can take you someplace else. I think I created a monster.”
Jason had accompanied Abby and me to Moon River Brewing once, during one of our investigations. He carried his own reasons for tracking ghosts, considering his younger brother, Dylan, had died a little over a year ago. His closure was far from complete.
Of course, Catherine lied about doing an investigation with him. I could tell by the way my stomach clenched, as it often did when I told a lie. I hated being able to mirror what she felt, but luckily it only seemed to happen when we were near each other. A small, silver lining.
“Okay, I’ll see you later. Can’t wait.”
The second she ended the call, my hand shot out and latched onto the juice glass sitting on the counter next to me. The fact I actually picked something up barely registered as I hurled the object at her head. Catherine looked over in time to dodge out of the way. The glass hit the counter behind her and shattered. The second it did, my fit of anger popped, leaving me empty and exhausted. Sure, I’d physically manipulated a solid object again, but it took nearly all my energy. And I didn’t like that this small part of me I never knew existed enjoyed the opportunity, honing in on the malice festering under the surface.
Catherine straightened, and I savored a tiny measure of satisfaction at the fleeting terror in her eyes before she shut it down. She fixed a smirk on her lips.
“My, my, look who’s found her backbone.” Her shoulder jerked up. “Too bad it came a little too late.” She turned back to the computer, effectively dismissing me, but I wasn’t done with her.
“I’ve seen what’s in the yard.” I advanced, not entirely sure why I needed to tell her, maybe I wanted her to talk to me, to force her to slip up and give me a useful tidbit of information.
“So?”
I should have guessed she’d play hardball. Taking a page out of her book, I tossed out a bored sounding question, praying the change of subject caught her off guard. “What’s it like? Living here with your ex-boyfriend? I mean, he’s stuck because of you, orbiting around your sun.”
Catherine folded her arms across her chest, wrinkling her nose. “You’re assuming I think about him at all. Jason is the only man I need.” She indicated the laptop. “And most people think we’re quite the pair.”
With a tentative step forward, suspecting a trap, I focused on the images. It was pictures of Catherine and Jason from various Hollywood gossip sites. In each one they were smiling or laughing or gazing at the other with visible emotion. And every single one hurt. They looked so happy, so glamorous. The pictures had been taken all around town, in front of local restaurants, by the river, on the set of his movie. I hadn’t realized Catherine and Jason were together so much. A hot lump of sadness formed in my throat, but I swallowed it down. I couldn’t let her see how negatively this affected me.
“Can you believe some of these so-called journalists are calling me a ‘simple country bumpkin’? How dare they! Savannah is certainly no backwoods town. It’s a thriving city, always has been. In 1865 it was a jewel of the South.” She pursed her lips. “Well, mostly because it was one of the only cities unburned by that ba
stard Sherman.”
I gaped at her. “Seriously? You spend your days standing around worrying about what people on the internet are saying about you? I don’t believe this. You do realize how stupid it sounds, right?”
“Oh, please, like you never fretted about what his peers thought of you. Don’t be a hypocrite. I know you did. Besides, I have to care, for Jason’s sake.” She huffed out a frustrated breath. “These reporters are animals. Shoving and shouting, all in competition to get the best photo. It truly is madness.”
Her reply and the absurdity of the situation stumped me. There were much more important things going on. I didn’t have the luxury of trolling websites and dodging photographers. Instead of attacking her about Jason, I honed in on Jackson.
“Did you ever truly love Jackson?”
Her face, the one so familiar to me, softened. “I was young, full of silly dreams. People change.” Impatience crept in, and she snapped at me. “You’re making the mistake of assuming I care what you do. I have what I intended—a second chance and a life of my own.” Her nose wrinkled. “You and your silly friends are grasping at empty air. I consider your incessant questions nothing but a bug buzzing in my ear, annoying and easily squashed.”
My eyebrows shot up. “If everything is so perfect, Catherine, haven’t you wondered why I’m here? If you supposedly got all you desired, shouldn’t I be gone? Are you willing to risk the possibility that I can find a way to do to you exactly what you did to me?”
“I’m not convinced you have what it takes.”
“But I do. He’s offered me the same thing you were. How do you feel about that? What happens then, when he has someone new to serve him?”
My skin crawled using the word ‘serve’, but it was the best description I had. As I waited for her to answer, I prayed she didn’t call my bluff. My statement sounded more confident than I felt. I watched with satisfaction as a flash of fear sparked in her eyes.
“You have no idea what it cost to get where I am. I hope you never have to.”
With that, she fled the room, leaving a million more questions in her wake. Blowing out a frustrated breath, I slumped against the counter, studiously ignoring the open computer. I wanted to break it, to erase the images from my mind forever. Would I have looked as relaxed and carefree in the pictures?
A Strange There After Page 6