Haunted Heroine

by Sarah Kuhn

  Tess shrugged, and hunched lower in the backseat, so all I could see in the rearview mirror was the tuft of pink curls sprouting from the top of their head.

  “It was nothing. Julie can be kind of a daredevil, so I just had a . . . a feeling she’d hurt herself somehow.”

  “That doesn’t sound like nothing,” I pressed.

  Tess slumped down further so even their tuft of pink curls disappeared. “It is.”

  I turned around so I could see them; they’d slid so far down in the seat they were practically folding in on themselves. Their gaze was defiant, closed off. Like they were daring me to keep probing.

  “Tess,” I said, very gently. “I know there are a lot of weird, confusing things happening right now. And I know there are people in positions of authority at Morgan who seem like they’re trying to hold you back or like they’re not looking out for your best interests. The way Leonora cut you down during the society meeting, for instance—that wasn’t okay. But I want you to know that I’m on your side, I really am. I care about you and all the other students Angelica and I have gotten to know here.”

  I was trying to soften them up to talk to me—but I was also telling the truth. I was ready to fight for all these kids. Ride-or-die, as Pippa had said.

  “You can talk to me,” I coaxed, reaching over to pat their knee. “Truly.”

  A bit of Tess’s wariness melted away and they sat up a little straighter in their seat. “I . . .” they began, then shook their head, their eyes filling with tears. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “How about this: I’ll ask you questions. If there’s something you don’t want to answer, just let me know.”

  “Okay,” they whispered, blinking back tears.

  I took a deep breath and exchanged another look with Aveda. I wanted to start with the hunch that had been slowly forming, tickling the back of my brain. Something that felt like it could be a key to unlocking what was happening at Morgan.

  “Tess,” I said, meeting their eyes. “How did you and Julie meet?”

  Surprise crossed their face—they hadn’t been expecting that. They pressed their lips together, like they were trying to keep the words from escaping.

  “It was the ghost-hunting society, wasn’t it?” I said softly. “The member Leonora mentioned, the one who got kicked out—that was Julie, wasn’t it?”

  Tess swallowed hard and gave me a curt head-bob.

  “Okay,” I said, trying not to show the excitement humming through me. Finally, it felt like we were getting somewhere. “Can you tell me why she got kicked out? Please, Tess. Angelica and I are really concerned about what’s happened to Julie. Help us put the pieces together. Help us help her.”

  Tess studied me for a moment, twisting their hands together in their lap. Looking like there were things they wanted to say very badly, but something was holding them back.

  “Julie and I had a theory,” they began, their voice so soft, I had to lean in to hear them. “We were working on one, anyway. It was about . . .” They paused, their gaze falling to their lap. “Demonic energy—you know, the stuff that causes all those wild goings-on in San Francisco—fusing with paranormal energy.”

  “Paranormal energy?” I said. “As in actual ghosts?”

  “Yes,” Tess said, raising their head and nodding vigorously at me. “Julie had spent a lot of time studying the history of demons and stuff, the way they work. The progression of how they’ve attacked the Bay Area. I don’t know how, but she’d gotten ahold of all these supposedly classified reports—she was super interested in how and why demon incidents had started spreading to the East Bay, and she found some research theorizing about the walls between our world and the Otherworld becoming thinner.”

  “Ah,” I said, exchanging a glance with Aveda. That might have been Bea and Nate’s research—I did wonder how Julie had gotten her hands on those documents. The facts contained in them weren’t necessarily a secret, but some of the theorizing wasn’t stuff a lot of people knew about.

  “And I’ve always been interested in all the ghost stuff at Morgan, how paranormal energy’s lingered around campus for years,” Tess continued. “When the rumblings started about the Morgan hauntings becoming less passive . . . well, Julie and I put all our information together and started to form a theory about how maybe, somehow, that demonic energy had found a way to fuse with paranormal energy to produce a more robust apparition. A stronger ghost.”

  “Ah,” I said, turning that over in my head. Maybe we were still fighting our usual demonic nemeses, here. “So you guys think the more recent hauntings—where people started interacting with the ghosts and getting hurt—were examples of that fusing? Maybe the first examples?”

  “Exactly,” Tess said, sitting up straighter, their eyes flashing. Their uncertainty was falling away more and more by the minute. “We wanted to know why the hauntings seemed to be changing all of a sudden.”

  “Can you go back to the part about ‘paranormal energy’?” Aveda interjected, her eyes still on the road. “Are you saying the passive hauntings that existed at Morgan for all those years were also . . . well, real ghosts? Some supernatural force entirely separate from demons?”

  “I think that paranormal energy has always existed, yes,” Tess said, nodding vigorously. “I think the people who appear as ghosts left it behind somehow—like, that energy is basically emotional resonances that have soaked into certain locations. Particularly potent feelings from humans who are no longer with us. And that energy started appearing to people in ways that were perhaps less easy to quantify. But once they fused with demonic energy . . . well, now who knows what they can do.”

  “So that’s why you and Julie got so interested in the idea of ‘passing over,’” I continued, remembering how Tess had been dying to explain the concept at the society meeting. “Because once the ghost does so—”

  “—the paranormal energy—that emotional resonance—evaporates, leaving the demonic energy nothing to grab on to. And the ghost vanishes for good,” Tess said. “That was our theory, anyway. Then the ghost can’t hurt anyone anymore, and hey, it’s probably a big relief for them to be able to finally freakin’ rest after all those years of hauntings. But we couldn’t figure out what the magic bullet was—what makes them finally pass? That’s why I was so curious about Shelby, because it seems like her courtyard ghost finally managed to pass over.”

  “So why is Leonora against you pursuing this?” I said, thinking back to the meeting. “If you were able to figure that part out, it would help both humans and ghosts.”

  “Yes, it seems like an actually useful thing the ghost-hunting society could do,” Aveda sniffed.

  Tess shrugged, their eyes clouding with frustration. “I don’t know,” they spat out. “She’s new to the society—”

  “She is?” I said, intrigued. The way Leonora lorded her apparent leadership position over her students made it seem like she’d been running things for decades.

  “She’s new to Morgan, period,” Tess clarified. “She started here two semesters ago. The college had actually informed us that we needed a faculty advisor in order to keep running—we didn’t used to have one. Provost Glennon recommended Leonora, and we accepted. But things have definitely changed. Leonora seems to want us to just, like, study and observe spirits, but not even think about exploring anything actually interesting. She and Julie clashed all the time, and she totally dismissed my encounter—”

  “That’s right, you had a ghostly experience of your own,” I said. “But during our Taco Bell night, you said ‘friends’ had talked you out of believing it?”

  “I . . . I think I still believe it,” Tess said, their face screwing into a frown. “But Leonora forbid me from talking about it, said it was clearly nonsense and my own ‘fevered imaginings’ because I wanted to see a ghost so damn bad. And that is true, but . . .” They trailed off,
shaking their head.

  “I believe you,” I said, giving them an encouraging look. “Tell me what happened.”

  Tess blew out a long breath, their gaze going to the window. They stared out at the night sky for a moment, as if collecting their thoughts.

  “I was in Morgan Hall,” they said, their eyes getting a faraway look. It was almost as if they were talking to themselves, rather than relating the story to us. “I sort of snuck in after hours, when no one else was there. I wanted to see if I could find one of Morgan’s oldest ghosts: Clementine Caldwell, one of Morgan’s first deans of admissions.”

  “I think I know this one,” I said, calling up the memories from my grad school days. “She used to get in huge screaming matches with other administrators—she believed the school needed to progress into the modern age, but everyone else wanted it to stay a finishing school for proper young ladies. Right?”

  “Yes,” Tess confirmed, still gazing out the window. “As history has it, Clementine was so infuriated by the archaic opinions of her colleagues, she could often be heard stomping around her third floor office at all hours. If any of her colleagues complained, she’d only stomp louder.”

  “Wow,” Aveda exclaimed. “That’s the kind of petty I aspire to.”

  “That’s the kind of petty you already embody,” I retorted.

  “She died right after the college board finally agreed to some of the changes she’d recommended—when she was one hundred and twelve years old,” Tess continued. “Some say she was only keeping herself alive so she could finally see the day Morgan entered the modern era.”

  “Damn,” Aveda said, her eyes widening with admiration.

  “Ever since then,” Tess continued, “students, faculty, and administrators alike have heard her stomping around at all hours. But whenever they go check her old office, there’s nobody there.”

  “So you wanted to hear this legendary stomping? Or were you hoping you might be the first person to actually see Clementine?” I asked.

  “I mean, every ghost enthusiast hopes to be the first to see Clementine!” Tess exclaimed, their mouth quirking into a slight smile. “So of course I wanted that. But often, the people who encounter Clementine see a different kind of spirit—we started calling it an ‘echo ghost’ in paranormal enthusiast circles.”

  “Echo ghosts, passive hauntings—so many new terms to learn,” Aveda muttered.

  “There’s a mirrored decoration thingy on Clementine’s old office door,” Tess continued. “No one has actually inhabited that office since she died—it’s just too creepy. So it’s something she hung there herself, it’s kind of like a big piece of stained glass? If you look into it when her spirit is stomping around—well, you see a ghostly version of yourself!”

  “Whoa,” Aveda murmured.

  “Supposedly, that’s Clementine trying to show you the version of yourself that scares you,” Tess continued. “Because she felt that if those pigheaded administrators really looked at what they were doing, trying to hold young women, young people back . . . well, they wouldn’t be able to live with themselves.”

  “I love this bitch,” Aveda murmured. “Clementine and I would so get along.”

  “So I heard the footsteps,” Tess said, closing their eyes as they relived the experience. “I went up to Clementine’s office, I looked in the mirror—and there I was. The ghost version of me. Blue with a big freaky mouth and hollowed-out pits for eyes.”

  “That sounds very vivid,” I said, following the thread. “Why did Leonora try to make you think it didn’t happen?”

  “Because of what happened next,” Tess said, frowning at their lap. They shivered a little, then looked out the window again—as if they couldn’t quite meet my gaze during this part. “Usually, the reflection vanishes within a few seconds, and Clementine’s footsteps cease. But this time . . .” They gnawed their lower lip, their eyes haunted. “. . . my reflection stepped out of the mirror and chased me down the fucking hall.”

  “What!” Aveda shrieked, slamming a hand against the steering wheel. “That is fucked up!”

  “It was,” Tess said, nodding vigorously. “I always thought I’d know exactly what to do if I encountered a ghost. I was so excited to see one! But that . . .” They shuddered. “Every thought flew out of my head, and I bolted down the hall. I didn’t even look behind me, not until I’d reached the bottom of the staircase. I tripped on my way down, broke one of the stairs, scraped up my knees. And when I did turn around . . . there was nothing behind me. The freaky Ghost Tess had vanished.”

  “Wow,” I said, bits and pieces floating through my head and starting to connect—just a little. “So you also interacted with a ghost, in a way. Just like Shelby. And does your ‘echo ghost’ vanishing mean Clementine passed over?”

  “I don’t think so,” Tess said. “Because people have still reported hearing her pacing around. And I didn’t know all of what happened to Shelby—or even who she was. Julie and I kept trying to get more information on the other student who had officially reported an interactive encounter, but Provost Glennon blocked us at every turn. I was so excited to finally meet her on our Taco Bell night.”

  “Provost Glennon is a real piece of work,” Aveda muttered.

  “And Leonora tried to discourage your investigation as well,” I coaxed.

  “Yeah,” Tess said. “Julie pushed back hard—she was confrontational with Leonora, wouldn’t let it go. That’s why Leonora kicked her out. And she told me if I kept pursuing this, I would be too. She . . . I mean, like I said, she convinced me I’d imagined the whole thing, I’d just been too excited about the idea of seeing an actual ghost. But now . . .” Tess frowned, meeting my gaze. “Julie was on the verge of something big. She wouldn’t tell me what it was, but . . .” Tess’s eyes filled with tears again. “Her being in the hospital has something to do with all this, doesn’t it?”

  “We think it might,” I said, giving their knee a comforting pat. “We believe Julie had her own ghostly encounter, and it seems to have harmed her in some way.”

  “I . . . god.” Tess buried their face in their hands, their shoulders slumping. “I should have pushed harder with Leonora. Why did I just give in? Why did I let her make me believe . . .” Their voice broke and they trailed off.

  “Hey,” I said, making my voice gentle but firm. “This is not your fault, Tess. Leonora’s manipulative. She’s one of those people who imposes her will on others, and gets away with it. And she’s in a position of power over you guys—she’s the faculty advisor, the professor, the leader. She’s supposed to help you, not gaslight you into doubting yourself. I’m sorry she did that. And I believe you—every word.”

  “I . . . thank you.” Tess raised their face from their hands and gave me the smallest of smiles. “Thank you, Eliza.”

  “If I may,” Aveda said, raising an index finger. “Tess, dear, how do you think the change in the hauntings happened? I know you said it’s about demonic energy fusing with ghostly energy, and about the walls between worlds becoming thinner recently. But wouldn’t there have to be, I don’t know, some kind of extra step to make that happen? Or do you think it was an accident, these two energies colliding all of a sudden?”

  Tess paused, thinking it over. “I don’t think it was an accident—and I think the how and the why of it were the big questions Julie was pursuing,” they finally said. “The dangerous thing she was on the verge of uncovering. The thing that was so dangerous, she wouldn’t tell me about it . . .” Their voice broke a little, their eyes shiny with unshed tears.

  “Tess,” I said, twisting around to give them the most determined look I could muster, “Angelica and I are going to get to the bottom of this, okay? Let’s go see Julie. We won’t leave until we know she’s okay—and we’ve gotten answers.”

  “Okay,” Tess said, nodding as they reached up to scrape a hand over their eyes. I was grati
fied to see their shoulders relax, their expression mellow out a bit.

  I turned back around and faced the road, a million thoughts circling through my brain.

  “See, Eliza,” Aveda murmured, too low for Tess to hear. “You’re not so bad at the mom thing, hmm?”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe not,” I said softly, looking down and touching my stomach.

  And I was surprised to find that just for a moment, I actually believed it.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THE ALAMEDA SPECIALTY Clinic and Treatment Center was a squat two-story building in a desolate area, tucked well away from any kind of city bustle. It was painted a sickly green, reminiscent of doctor’s scrubs, and scraps of hazy light flickered from the grid of tiny windows on both stories.

  “This also looks kind of haunted,” Aveda hissed, as we passed through the whoosh of the sliding glass doors. “What the hell? Do you see anyone who looks like Julie Vũ?”

  Bea had informed us that Julie’s sister was named Jessie, and I thought it would be best to try to connect with her directly. Of course that plan was immediately foiled by the officious-looking receptionist at the front desk, a tall, rail-thin blonde with a scraped-back, too-tight ponytail. She was wearing a sour expression that made it appear as if she was suffering from a perma-headache.

  “May I help you?” she squawked at us as soon as we set foot in the hospital lobby.

  “Um, yes!” I said, trying to put on my brightest, most people-pleasing smile. “We’re friends of Julie Vũ, one of your patients here, and her sister, Jessie. We were actually hoping Jessie was around—”

  The receptionist’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Like I said, we’re friends—”

  “Friends?” a voice behind us interrupted. “You’re friends of Julie’s?”

  We all turned to face a young woman who was the spitting image of Julie Vũ. Just a couple years younger—she appeared to be in her late teens.