Cautiously, I crawled onto the bed an inch at a time, keeping an eye out for any sign of her waking. Coming to a stop, I knelt between her legs, one hooked out to the side at an angle.
“This is awkward.” I bit my lip to shut myself up. Now was not the time for bad jokes.
My nerves thrummed, telling me to forget this crazy idea, to leave the room and never come back. I refused to listen to doubt. Now was not the time to get squirrely and run away. Slowly, I lowered myself down, being careful to match her body position, right down to the curve of her fingers and curled toes. I caught the scent of the coconut lime body lotion I used for years and paused. Seriously? It was bad enough she looked like me, now she had to smell the same, too? Not cool. Irritated, I carried on with my mission, adjusting my body until our limbs aligned.
A breeze erupted around me, flowing over my skin, charged with energy. It tingled, like electric ants crawling everywhere. Nothing fit. My body was a wet sock two sizes too small. As I bounced around, it made me think about what it might feel like to swim in Jell-O, unable to move my limbs correctly—slippery as all heck. It took some maneuvering, but the instant I found the right spot, I knew it worked.
The room faded to black, and for a moment, I panicked. Oh god, what did I do? Lost in the darkness, my body spasmed as it fought to find a way out. She tricked me! Lured me in, then flipped the switch. I was so stupid.
Too soon. I’d tried to get my body back too soon.
Slowly, I came to the realization I couldn’t see because my eyes were closed. Calm crept in, and I regulated my breathing. Then I felt it. Strong. Determined. Undeniable. My heart. It was beating in my chest. A rhythmic thudding that told me I was alive. A sob snuck out of me as relief flooded in.
I did it.
The steady rise and fall of my chest was the most soothing feeling in the world. With blood pumping warmth through my veins, I felt powerful. Strong. Able to do anything.
Stretching an arm, a smile curled my lips as the muscles reacted. Home, I thought. I was home. I realized I was wasting precious seconds reveling in something that used to be second nature. Sighing, I tried to remember if I ever laid on a bed this soft.
The fleeting thought dissipated quickly when I remembered my eyes and the fact I needed to open them. Before I managed the simple task, an impact jarred me from behind. Not physically, but spiritually. It felt exactly the way it did the night Catherine took over. Another pinch, worse, like being pulled through the eye of a needle. As hard as I could, I tried to hold on. I didn’t want to lose this again.
“No, I won’t give this up!” I mumbled, finding the action of making words awkward, out of practice. Frantic, I tried to fight back, to hang onto my physical being as tightly as I could. But already, I felt it slipping further and further away.
Catherine’s angry scream came from nowhere, filling my mind. I was aware of her with me and managed to stave her off, but only for a moment. I fell backward, landing on the hardwood floors. Already the warmth was fading, rapidly being eaten up by the deep chill of my spectral form. My heartbeat vanished, too, leaving me empty and lifeless. I lay there for a couple seconds, wallowing in my misery.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Sitting up, I looked directly into Catherine’s outraged expression. She stared at me bug-eyed, her chest heaving in exertion. Wrapping my arms around my stomach to hold myself together, I bit my tongue hard before speaking, and it chased away the grief.
“You had to figure I’d try it sooner or later.”
The levelness of my voice surprised me, considering I trembled from head to toe with exertion. Next time, I needed to make sure I had a surplus of energy beforehand.
“I have to say,” she continued. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Why not? Why is it so hard for you to believe I wouldn’t fight for what is mine?”
Catherine brushed the hair out of her face, and I noticed it was even lighter than it had been a couple days ago. Instead of dark brown, almost black, it shone in a honey brown accented with darker highlights. How dare she!
“Because I know you, Quinn. You’re a poor little mouse.” She yawned. “Now go away. I’m going back to sleep. I can tell by how see-through you are that you won’t be attempting anything stupid again tonight. Get out.”
Rolling over, Catherine pulled the covers up to her chin and promptly closed her eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said loudly.
She didn’t stir, either ignoring me or so comfortable in her victory she fell quickly back asleep. I tried a few more times to rouse her, but exhaustion won over, and I felt ridiculous shouting without getting any reply.
Beaten, I retreated from her room.
No, I reminded myself. It worked, for a minute. I felt my heart, my breathing. When I tried again, I needed to be stronger. Catherine might not be aware of it yet, but I was starting to get the hang of this ghost nonsense. I just hoped it didn’t become a permanent thing.
Chapter Eleven
Each hour Abby and Boone didn’t show my annoyance grew. Waiting wasn’t my forte. Two nights passed, and I itched to see a friendly face. I hoped Boone hadn’t found something more interesting. But then, I was definitely a one-of-a-kind story. Surely, he couldn’t walk away from that. If he bailed, Abby probably wound up doing all the research herself. Maybe he needed me to come haunt him.
Obviously, impatience turned me cranky.
At least I didn’t feel depressed, even in light of my failure last night. For the tiniest sliver of time, I returned to my body, and despite being kicked out, I remained hopeful. A promise of resolution hung on the horizon. I was going to win this. I needed to be smart and wait a few days before trying again. All I needed was to catch Catherine off guard and become stronger in order to push her out completely.
After spending most of the day waiting for the doorbell to ring, I wandered into the yard, naively thinking I’d find some answers. Near the carriage house I paused, and after a minute or so Jackson joined me. Somehow, subconsciously, this seemed to have become our designated meeting place. Defiantly, I refused to let the dark entities scare me into staying in the house. It was my backyard after all.
“You rattled her last night.”
“How do you know?”
He offered me the tiniest of smiles. “I may not have much interaction with her, but the connection between Catherine and I remains strong.” He shrugged. “It’s more of a curse than anything.”
I leaned against the oak tree, running my fingertips along its bark, wishing it felt like something other than a tickle. “It worked. For a couple seconds.”
“Now you know it’s possible.”
“Yeah,” I snorted. “Maybe in a decade or so I can manage to do it for a whole hour.”
“Despair is your enemy. Do not let it weigh you down.”
Studying him, I had a hard time reconciling this man with the quiet, stoic soldier I remembered growing up. A month ago, he barely talked to me at all. Since then we’d become friends, sort of. I considered him the big brother I never had.
“It’s hard to stay positive,” I grumbled.
“You have to keep trying.” He paused, his blue eyes growing more animated. “The best plan of attack is to go after Catherine when she’s vulnerable, as you did when she was asleep. The farther Catherine is from the house, from this male entity, the weaker she is. He cannot leave unless she lets him in, and she hasn’t, not since the night she overpowered you.”
I pushed off the tree and drew closer to him. “You have to know more about them. Who is she? How can I stop her? What does the guy want? Are you certain they’re not the same person?”
His hands shot up, as if to ward off my questions. “I’ve told you all I know, and it’s not as if we sit around sipping iced tea and getting to know each other.”
“No one wants to talk about this freaky lady. I don’t get it.” I rubbed my hands over my face in frustration. “So, what you’re say
ing is I need to lure Catherine away?”
“Tomorrow night she’s attending a party with Jason. She will be in her element. Influential people, fancy dresses, trying to impress. It is the perfect opportunity.”
“How do you know all this?” I exclaimed. “I haven’t heard much about the party, and you know the where and the when. You’d think I’d know and see all.”
“You aren’t Santa Claus.” Caught by his joke, I actually laughed, and Jackson continued, “You need to pay more attention. Stop brooding, and start listening.”
I gaped at him, unable to find any retort other than, “Um, I’m trying, Mr. Know-It-All.”
“I’ve been a spirit long enough to be attuned to what goes on around me. Catherine, even when I hate her or try to avoid her, is a flame, one I’m irresistible to. I grew up with her, understand how she operates. Even in her darkest moments, pieces of her remain. That’s why I have been unable to give her up.”
The emotion in his speech embarrassed me. Judging by the way he avoided eye contact, it did him, too. Comparing this version of Catherine to the one Jackson grew up loving baffled me. It was literally two different people. As close as Jackson and I had become, I’d never tell him how ridiculous he sounded defending her. Any other person would be suspicious, questioning why a man hung up on his childhood sweetheart would be so willing to thwart her. Not me. I realized Jackson’s intentions, his reluctant involvement in my plight. In the end, he just wanted Catherine to find peace.
Adapting a business-like tone, I asked, “So Catherine will have her guard down at this party?”
I recalled the first and only public event I attended with Jason, how incredibly nervous I’d been. Granted, I wore a mask and constantly worried over my stepmother and stepsisters recognizing me, not to mention how overwhelmed I was with the possibility of embarrassing Jason in front of his peers. Their acceptance of me, a simple southern girl, mattered. Did those feelings live residually in Catherine? Hard to imagine narcissistic Catherine stressing out about being accepted, but she already freaked out about the reporters.
“One of her biggest obsessions has always been fitting in. As much as she fought her marriage to Jennings, I heard stories of the parties they threw, I’m assuming before he started beating her. Acquaintances told me about how she adapted, taking on this new persona, all to be accepted with her husband’s business associates. Trust me, she is thinking the exact same thing now. In order to fit into this modern world, she will latch onto Jason and what he can offer her. It’s her way of surviving.”
My fists clenched in response. I hated the idea of anyone using Jason for their own personal gain. This woman really had no redeeming qualities. Then I remembered how Jackson talked about her, the trace of respect in his voice.
“I can’t picture someone as good as you loving a woman as narcissistic as her,” I chided.
“I cling to my memories because they are all I have.”
An awkward pause settled between us, and I realized the day had faded. Dusk crept across the city, and with it came a familiar sensation. She was here, the female entity. Sure enough, a black shadow materialized from the far corner where it had before and swooshed toward us, aiming directly at me. In the writhing darkness of the mass, I caught quick glimpses of the hideous face. The woman’s twisted features were contorted in what I could have sworn was laughter. Fear rooted me in place, the sense of dread and hopelessness threatening to eat me alive from the inside.
At the last second, I heard Jackson shout, yanking me out of the way. From the corner of my eye, I saw the shadow swerve and burrow itself into the tree. I made to turn and run, but a deep, guttural groan emitted from the majestic oak. Then, the thick trunk moved, the branches flexing and stretching, creaking as if waking up from a long slumber.
“Oh my God,” Jackson murmured.
My brain, sluggish with shock from the mind-blowing image in front of me, wasted a few seconds to register what was happening. She possessed the tree. The thought barely formed before I felt Jackson tugging on me, trying to get us to safety.
But we didn’t move fast enough.
Chapter Twelve
A branch swung down, capturing me around the waist in a hard, unforgiving grip. It shouldn’t be able to do that. I wasn’t real! The simple fact didn’t seem to matter as it swept me off my feet and into the air. The rough bark cut into my skin, and I gave up trying to figure out how it was possible. All around me, the leaves rustled, and the wood creaked. A muffled laugh joined in, the sinister chuckle echoing through my head.
I was lifted high into the upper branches, any view of the ground obscured, then whipped about and slammed into the hard trunk. It stunned me, rattling my bones and jarring my spine. Another branch came at me, slinking around my ankles. More leaves shot forward, slapping me across the face. My skin split open, producing a dribble of warm liquid that meant I was bleeding. Amazed, I touched the wound. Sure enough, my fingers came away sticky and red.
Try all you want. You will never leave dis place.
The feminine voice slithered through my conscious, filling me with frigid cold. My bindings tightened, and I cried out in pain. Every single part of me hurt and, amidst all the agony, I realized it was the most sensation I felt since becoming a ghost. Here, being squeezed by a vindictive tree, I was more alive than I had been in days—apart from being in my body last night. All part of this nasty woman’s plan, I bet.
Something hard and unyielding snaked around my chest, then again, encircling my neck. Panic hit me full force as my air supply cut off. Even that shouldn’t have happened. I hadn’t drawn a real breath in weeks. Instead, my lungs cried out for release. As I fought, pulling and scratching at the heavy wood, my fingernails tore, and tears streamed down my cheeks.
You must learn your life is over. Your family is over. They will not hurt anyone again.
“H-how?” I intended to ask her how the Roberts hurt her, but speaking was impossible.
My only reply was her continuing laugher. The branches squeezed, tighter. I couldn’t move, the pain too great, as the agony of slow suffocation consumed me. Black dots filled my vision, and my head grew lighter and lighter. Could I die if I was nothing more than a spirit?
Then, from the darkness, I sensed another presence. The man.
Leave the girl alone, he ordered.
The spirit-infested tree hesitated. Suddenly, all the suffering and lack of air vanished as a blast of energy exploded around us. I heard the woman cry, and the tree’s grip loosened. Emptiness overwhelmed me, as well as the realization I was falling. I prepared for the bone shattering impact, but it never came. Just the slightest sensation of touching soft grass. A lingering trace of pressure remained on my chest, and I instinctively sucked in air. Jackson was at my side, helping me to my feet. Tenderly, I touched my cheek and startled when I felt a scab. I had already begun healing.
“Did that really happen?” he asked.
I saved you as a reminder not to listen to what everyone says. I do not want to harm you. Quite the contrary. Helping you is my only intention. We’ll talk again, Miss Roberts.
“Is someone there?” The question caused Jackson and me to flinch.
Spinning, I came face-to-face with Abby, her wide eyes filled with a mixture of fright and awe, staring at a spot past my shoulder. A large pack was slung over her shoulder, and I recognized it as the one we always brought on our paranormal investigations. Relief hit me hard, harder than the now silent tree did, and I rushed toward her.
Boone stood behind her, staring at the tree with a slack jaw. He wore a black t-shirt tonight, and part of a tattoo peeked from under the sleeve. My fingers itched to lift the material and see what it was. It looked like wings of some kind, maybe a skull. He caught my gaze, his eyes concerned behind his glasses, and pushed past Abby.
“The tree?”
His voice trembled in shock, but I got the gist of his question. “Yeah, it came alive. Ow.”
I flexed my neck, and he gape
d at me.
“Jesus, how can it hurt you?” Even though the marks had almost faded, I imagined they were nasty.
“Is she okay?” Abby’s shrill tone interrupted us. “How did the tree move?”
“Quinn is fine. Well, her neck is all scratched up, like it tried to strangle her.” He fixed me with a dark glare. “Why didn’t you tell us it had gotten this bad?”
“It wasn’t, not really. I, uh, might have ticked her off.”
“Her? This Catherine person or something else? I’m lost.”
“Well, if you would have shown up sooner, I might have been able to fill you in,” I grumbled.
“Sorry if we had problems finding mention of anything remotely close to what’s happened to you.”
“Stop! Both of you. I can’t follow a one-sided conversation.” Abby’s shout drew a smirk from Boone. “She’s my best friend. Is there any way to include me, or am I destined to be a decoration?”
“I’m sure you know of a way,” I said sarcastically to Boone.
He considered this for a minute then reached into his messenger bag. He brought out a fancy digital recorder and a pair of headphones. Switching it on, he handed it to her.
“Listen to this as we talk. I’ve done it before, a live EVP session. Quinn is stronger than most ghosts, so you should hear her pretty well.” He glanced at the eerily quiet yard. “Can we go inside? We watched your doppelganger leave a while ago, so it should be all clear. But I’m not too keen on staying back here.”
“Big bad Boone Ravenwood is scared?” I teased as I followed him into the house.
Behind us, Abby giggled. “This is going to be fun.”
“Obviously that’s working,” Boone grumbled before stopping and staring. “Nice crib.”
“I’m glad you approve. So, what did you find out?”
He flopped down on the couch, putting his feet up on an antique apothecary coffee table. “Nothing.”
I waited expectantly, glancing between the two.
“He’s right,” Abby confirmed. “This is Invasion of the Body Snatchers territory. Science Fiction. All we found were mentions of possessions where the possessor is stronger and overpowers the body’s actual inhabitant, pushing them into the background. Pretty much as we expected.”
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