White Spirit

by Amy Ravenel

  Tristan noticed his breath puff out in tiny clouds. He shrugged into his jacket, bracing himself for what was coming.

  “I’m going to have to let you go again, Lily. It’s time to move on and find peace.” Cameron’s voice grew stronger with every word.

  Everything plunged into darkness. Cold air kissed Tristan’s face. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. She was coming. He knew the signs by heart. He concentrated on making his psychic walls impenetrable.

  “Should I…should I keep talking?” Cameron asked.

  “Yes. Don’t be afraid,” McKenna answered. A reassuring calm fell over the room.

  “Lily, I miss you every day. I wish to God I’d handled things differently.” Cameron’s voice rang through the darkness. “Forgive me and be free, please.”

  A white glow appeared to Tabitha’s right. She stumbled back as she raised her EMF detector. Tristan wasn’t sure what the numbers indicated, but Tabitha seemed pleased. The light reshaped itself into the familiar form of The White Lady. Her features were impassive as her eerie green eyes studied the room. She moved from Tabitha to Cameron in the blink of an eye.

  The older man gasped but held his ground. “Dear God, it is you.” He seemed to pale in her unearthly glow.

  The White Lady cocked her head to the side. “You have to pay.” She clutched his shirt and lifted him off the ground.

  Tristan didn’t think. He threw the contents of his salt bag at the ghost. White grains fell through the air. She dropped Cameron and separated into fragments. The white wisps swirled and reformed behind him. She grabbed him once again.

  Cameron whirled around and held up a hand. “No.” He kept his eyes on the ghost. “I always wondered where you went. Why you left. I was going to make it up to you. After you graduated, I was going to come back.”

  She didn’t give any indication that she understood his words. Her eyes flashed red. “You have to pay.”

  Salt flew from all directions. The grains stung when they hit Tristan’s skin. The White Lady screamed. She split apart and loosened her grip. Cameron fell to the floor.

  “Dr. Cameron!” Tristan rushed forward, but the older man waved him off.

  “I’m all right.”

  The ghost reformed at the other end of the room. Her cold eyes swept the area, landing on Tristan.

  “Sir, did you have anything to do with her death?” Tristan asked. He helped the older man to his feet, but his gaze was glued to The White Lady.

  Cameron watched the ghost. “No. I didn’t even know she was dead. I swear.”

  “Sarah said Lily had gotten a letter the day she died. Did you send one?” McKenna asked.

  “No. No, I never sent any letter.”

  The White Lady bared her teeth and blinked away. Darkness and silence were left in her wake.

  Tristan searched the room, barely able to see anything. “Is that it?” Before anyone could answer, a block of ice plunged into his back. All the breath left his lungs as the cold spread through every part of his body. Walls! He had to steady his walls. His control slipped, and with it, all of the bricks of his mental shield tumbled down. She ripped through his mind as if he were made of paper. The pulling sensation started. No, yanking. This time, The White Lady had no patience. Tristan hit his knees, his vision going dim.

  Everything happened at once. Aaron shouted orders, but the words sounded like gibberish. Small grains hit his back. No effect. The White Lady had taken most of his energy.

  Tired. He was so tired. If only they’d let him sleep. Please, let him sleep. He slumped on the floor. Cold. So cold.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Drew charge the ghost. He tried to yell, to warn his friend. The ghost plucked Drew out of the air. She held him suspended for a moment. It seemed so much longer. She then slammed him through the coffee table with a loud crash.

  “Drew!” McKenna’s voice rang out. She moved to help. The ghost sent a gust of wind and pushed her back against the wall.

  “More, now!” Aaron barked.

  More salt rained over him, covering his back and hair. The ghost screamed. The block of ice pulled out of his back. Tristan fell forward, and his eyelids slid closed.

  A steady, loud-pitched sound pushed its way through Tristan’s consciousness. He blinked open his eyes and a bright, white world came into view. Objects came into slow focus. A streetlight shone through the window to his right. A machine beside him with a black screen and green squiggly lines beeped. A small instrument pinched his forefinger while a slender tube sent liquid into his arm. Inane chatter came from the TV above him. His back was nestled into a soft mattress. He pulled the sheets and a blanket up to his chin.

  Where am I? How did I get here? He struggled to remember the events leading up to this. Freezing cold. All of his energy drained out of him. The White Lady ripping him apart and knocking down his friends with ease.

  “Drew? McKenna?” He bolted upright. Pain exploded in his head and he sank back down against the pillows.

  “Tristan, I’m right here.” McKenna appeared beside the bed, her eyes impossibly blue. A black and blue bruise bloomed on her cheek.

  He caressed it. “You’re hurt.”

  She touched his hand. “I’m okay. She went after you first.”

  “Everybody else?”

  “Aaron and Tabitha were able to get Dr. Cameron out. They’re all fine. Drew tried to jump between you and The White Lady. She cracked his ribs.” The memory of Drew crashing through the coffee table came back to him.

  Dread pooled in his stomach. “Kayla?”

  “She’s fine. She has a few scratches that she’s been showing off to the hospital staff.” McKenna settled into a chair. “We used up all of the salt we brought, but we managed to take the ghost down.” She laughed a little. “I’ve never seen anyone attack the way Kayla attacked that ghost. That woman has no fear.”

  As if on cue, Kayla peeked into the room. “Is he awake?”

  “Yeah. His color is coming back.”

  Kayla walked in and pushed up the sleeve of her shirt. Scratches covered her arm. “I gave her as good as I got,” she beamed.

  Tristan opened his mouth to answer her, but no sound came out. The room shifted and changed around him. He sucked in a breath through his gritted teeth when images of past visitors of the hospital room assaulted his brain. An accident victim with painful head trauma who didn’t make it. A little girl wailing with a broken arm. A man with something sharp stuck in his foot. He shut eyes and grabbed his head.

  Cool fingers touched his forehead, and he relaxed. The people faded into the background, their voices muting. The simple touch kept the images from overwhelming him. “Think about your wall, Tristan,” McKenna said evenly.

  He pictured the brick wall, the familiar mental structure sliding into place. The visions receded along with the pain in his head. With McKenna keeping him relaxed, he strengthened it with ease. The shadows of the past vanished.

  Air whooshed out of his lungs as he smiled. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Kayla cleared her throat. “Well, I’ll go check on Drew. Need any coffee, McKenna?”

  “No. I’m good.” McKenna continued to look at Tristan.

  With a wave, Kayla left the room.

  Tristan held McKenna’s hand, not wanting to let go. “Look, I’m sorry for snapping at you. I shouldn’t have assumed…”

  “No,” McKenna interrupted. “When I think about something, I tend to push. I’m sorry for beating the dead horse.”

  “But you’re right. Tonight didn’t have to happen. If I wasn’t so damn afraid, Drew wouldn’t be in the hospital.” He took in the equipment surrounding him. “I wouldn’t be in the hospital.” The tube in his arm pulled as he tried to sit up. He started at the quick jab of pain. “Will the nurses let me see him?” More guilt to pile on to his conscience.

  McKenna patted his hand. “I don’t know. Let me ask.” She stood. “And stop feeling guilty. It wasn’
t your fault.” She touched his chin. “None of this is your fault.”

  After proving to the nurse he could sit without slumping over, she helped him into a wheelchair. Gripping the moveable metal pole that held his bag of fluids, Tristan settled into the seat. McKenna thanked the nurse and pushed him out.

  “Now, he doesn’t look so good, and I’m not sure he’s awake yet,” McKenna warned.

  “Doesn’t matter. I have to see him for myself.”

  A sliver of guilt stabbed him in the chest when he saw Drew lying in the hospital bed. Bruises covered his face. His right eye was swelling, and it would probably be black and blue in a few days. Tristan touched his friend’s hand. His fault. Drew wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t been in the room. The White Lady had gotten past his shields so easily. Why wasn’t he able to hold them?

  The pain of losing Zack returned. Tristan fought back the tears that sprang to his eyes. With everything that had occurred over the past two weeks, Tristan and Drew hadn’t had a chance to reconnect. Drew had always been there for him, always stood up to the bullies, and kept an eye on him when he started seeing visions. He was a friend who was the first to act. Hell, if he had had the psychic powers, Drew wouldn’t have hesitated.

  He didn’t look like himself lying silently in the hospital bed. His Duke hat was missing, and he wasn’t running his mouth about a computer or a piece of equipment. God, Tristan wanted him to wake up and start telling him what an idiot he was.

  He glanced around at Aaron, Tabitha, Kayla, and McKenna. No one said a word, but he was pretty sure they were all thinking the same thing. How could this happen? Dr. Cameron was the key. He was the only connection they had to Lily. But the man only made her angrier. He may not have killed her, but the ghost must have thought he sent her the letter. A letter that possibly led to her death. He was one of the three men she sought.

  Three men. Mr. Martin and Dr. Cameron knew each other. If Mr. Martin was one of the three that made two that were identified. But who was the third? Tristan thought back to the professors he spoke to. He remembered the picture in Dr. Smith’s office. Both Mr. Martin and Dr. Cameron were in that picture. The killer could have been in that picture, too. But who was it? No more leads appeared. He was at a dead end.

  He slumped in the wheelchair.

  “Tristan?” McKenna’s hand slipped into his. Without saying a word, he pulled her into a hug.

  “You’re reading me again, aren’t you?” he whispered in her ear.

  “Kind of hard not to. I told you to stop feeling guilty. It’s not your fault.”

  He let go of her. No matter what she said, it felt like it was his fault. The ghost had used him to kill one of his best friends and attempted to kill another one. He had to do something. He had to stop this. No more being afraid. Dr. Cameron had been a dead end, but someone had sent that note to Lily all those years ago. Someone had killed her. And finding that killer was the only way to stop this. He looked into McKenna’s eyes. “I have to see something. Tonight.”

  “Tristan, you have to stay the rest of the night. It’s okay. Drew is safe.”

  He studied the sleeping body of his best friend. “And the poor guy who could lose his life next?” He gripped the arm of the chair.

  “It’s better if you’re not in the apartment.” Aaron pushed away from the wall.

  “We don’t know that. She took a hell of a lot of energy. She may be ready tonight. Hell, he might already be dead.”

  Kayla turned away from the window. “He’s right. It doesn’t look like she cares about a pattern anymore.”

  Tristan tightened his grip on McKenna’s hand. “Come with me. Teach me how to connect with the bow. You said it might work if I have an object to focus on. I’m ready to try.”

  They were quiet for a moment. McKenna glanced around the room, but no one protested. She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. She didn’t have to agree to do this. He was thankful she was there at all. It made everything a little better.

  “Tonight’s the night,” he tried again.

  “I’ll make you a deal. Rest tonight. In the morning, I’ll take you back to the apartment, and we can try.”

  “We might be too late.” He took a deep breath, the fear creeping up the back of his neck.

  “Tristan, it’s almost morning. Rest for a few more hours. You don’t have the strength right now.”

  He scowled. “In the morning then.” Kayla’s dark eyes watched him, and he nodded to her. “This has to end.”

  23

  In the breaking dawn, Hidden Forest Apartments had a larger than life feel. The brick building was eerier and more intimidating than it had been the night before. It rose out of the woods, tall and imposing. A couple of people dotted the parking lot, climbing into their cars or heading into the building. No police cars were among them. Tristan blew out a sigh of relief.

  He stood at the threshold of the outer doors. He rubbed the back of his neck, his breakfast threatening to spill all over the sidewalk. Both Karie’s house in Wilmington and Zack’s apartment sprang to his mind. What if this didn’t work? What if he lost control again?

  Then that would be it. The White Lady would kill someone else. Ten years would go by, and three more men would die. The cycle would keep going. If Tristan’s sight failed him, then he would fail her future victims.

  “Where do you want to go?” McKenna’s voice was soft.

  Tristan swallowed. “She died here when it was only woods.” He faced her. “Let’s go into the woods.”

  McKenna’s brow wrinkled. “I thought you said your visions were weaker outside?”

  “They are. But you mentioned trying to connect to an object, right?”

  “I did.”

  “Then I’m taking the bow to the woods.”

  McKenna pulled the yellow hair accessory out of her bag and handed it to Tristan. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise.

  She shrugged. “I grabbed it on the way out of your apartment. Thought we might need it.”

  Leaves and sticks crunched under their feet as they left the sidewalk and walked into the woods. Sunlight peeked through the trees, burning off the morning chill. Cars rumbled down the street behind them while birds sang in the trees. Tristan ignored the sounds and concentrated on the task ahead of him.

  He clutched the bow in his hand, careful not to break it. It was a link now, a link to a scared, heartbroken young woman. He tried to recall what she looked like in the visions he had had in his office. She had been happy, intelligent, and full of plans for the future. He held onto that image when they reached a clearing.

  “Here,” he said.

  “Okay.” McKenna stood at the edge.

  He squeezed her hand before stepping into the center of the small space.

  “If anything goes wrong, I’ll be here.” McKenna wrapped her jacket tighter around herself. “Focus on the bow, nothing else.”

  Tristan stopped halfway across. The bow seemed to vibrate in his hand. This was right. He winked at McKenna, and then closed his eyes and concentrated on the bow. Smooth fabric rested in his palm, the ruffled edges rough to the touch. The back clip was smooth and cool, a light metal. He thought about Lily—the picture of the smiling young woman and the terrifying spirit with a blank expression. Dark hair fell past her shoulders. Her large green eyes were the same in both incarnations. Tristan opened his mental brick walls.

  He was coming. Lily read over the words in the letter one more time, her heart pounding. The circle of light from the flashlight in her hand shook.

  ‘Dear Lily, Meet me in the woods tonight at 10.’

  No signature. That was fine. She knew who wrote it.

  She threw her hand back and laughed, a delighted sound that echoed off the dark trees. The crickets and frogs answered her with their steady chirps. She twirled, the leaves crunching under her feet. She wanted to dance, to sing, to shout from the treetops. Everything was going to be all right. She crushed the note to her chest.

  When Ian ha
d broken up with her, she thought she’d never laugh again. Without him, there was no joy, no love, nothing. She was a crumbled mess. But he was coming back to her. Against all the rules, he was coming back to her.

  Maybe they wouldn’t have to stay in Asheville? Maybe Ian would take her by the hand, and they would run away together. Go somewhere where no one knew them. They could start over, get married, and have a family. A fancy white dress and a big ceremony weren’t important. What mattered was that he wanted her as a wife.

  Closing her eyes, she could almost see their future. A big green house out in the middle of nowhere. Kids with Ian’s hazel eyes and her dark hair running around in the yard. Maybe they would play with a dog. No, two dogs.

  She smoothed her hair and straightened the simple blue dress she had chosen. She hardly ever wore it, only for special occasions. And this was a special occasion.

  A twig snapped. Lily jumped, her whole body alert. She whirled, running towards the sound. “Ian!” She skidded to a halt when someone stepped into her circle of light.

  Not Ian, but another one of the professors. She couldn’t remember his name. He had started working at Blackwood the year before, but she never took any of his classes. She had run errands for him when she ran errands for the other professors, but they had never been alone together. His blue eyes brightened. She took a step back.

  “You came?” He inched closer.

  “You’re not Ian.”

  He shook his head, shaggy blond hair swishing with the movement. It was lighter than Ian’s. His chin was covered with blond stubble, a light trace of a beard. “No, I’m not. But you came anyway.”

  Her hope vanished. Her stomach twisted with nerves, but she refused to show it. She clutched the flashlight. “You wrote the letter?”

  “I did. You see, Lily.” He took another step towards her. His build was stockier than Ian’s. Oh, who was he? “I’ve been wanting to talk to you since last year.” He rubbed his hands together. “I watched you whenever you were in the building. I love the way you light up a room when you walk into it.” He touched her hair.