Ghost Academy: Book One

by E. C. Farrell

  Without thinking, I reach toward it. It’s in pain. I can feel it writhing through the air, so intense tears fill my eyes. For some reason, I’m not scared. More curious. The shadow screams again and tumbles in my direction.

  Landon grabs my upper arm and hauls me away from it, swearing as he runs. I still don’t have a ton of control over my body — or spirit, I guess — so all I can do is let him drag me along, the toes of my shoes skimming the ground. He doesn’t stop until we reach the main building. Slamming the door shut behind us, he grabs both of my shoulders.

  “What in the realm of the dead were you doing? You can’t interact with one of the Twisted, they’re dangerous.” His fingers tighten, pinching my skin, his eyes haunted.

  “How?” I’m not sure why this is my first response, but the question pops out of my mouth before I can think it through.

  Landon’s brows crush together. “They’re destructive. If you get too close, they can suck you inside their own torment so you can’t get out.”

  “So... they turn you into one of the Twisted too?” I look over my shoulder, trying to get a glance out the window.

  Landon lets go of my shoulders and crosses his arms. “Might as well. Get sucked inside, and nobody ever sees you again.”

  “We don’t actually know what happens,” Kaz says, approaching from our left. As usual, he wears a smile and a sweater vest, looking like the star student at any academy he might attend.

  I purse my lips, wanting again to ask about Haya’s roommate, but holding back for now. No one’s been super forthcoming about it, so maybe it’s too soon to poke that particular beast. I’ll have to do a little quiet snooping on my own. Maybe Rafe will want to join.

  “Did you two see one out in the forest?” Kaz asks.

  Shoving my fists into the pockets of my jacket, I nod. “Is that normal?”

  Kaz’s grin falters. He and Landon glance at each other, but break eye contact fast. “Not much is normal around here,” Kaz says. “But on occasion, one of the Twisted does find its way to Locklear. Best to avoid them just to be safe.”

  “Has anyone at Locklear ever gotten twisted before they moved on?” I ask, not sure if this is a push too far considering the way they’ve been acting.

  Kaz speaks quickly, his words half running together. “Very rarely. But we’re late for dinner. Don’t want all the pizza to be gone, right?” He strides forward and Landon follows, his expression no longer sour, but fearful.

  Are they trying to avoid scaring me? Because not answering questions has the opposite effect. Maybe something more sinister is going on? I realize I know very little about this place or the people, ghosts, in charge. When they said they’d teach me, I accepted it without much question. This might not have been the smartest decision in the world.

  Then again, maybe Locklear is the best place for me to find answers. I’ll have to be careful about who I talk to, but as my fellow newbie, Rafe seems like the best place to start. Together, we might be able to figure out what in the realm of the dead is going on.

  Chapter Seven

  The incident in the woods shakes me less than Kaz and Landon’s reactions to my question. Their insistence that students “very rarely” get twisted at Locklear does less than inspire confidence. In fact, it weaves worry into my chest and stitches it up my throat so I can’t think as clearly as I’d like.

  I try to breathe it out as I wobble to dinner, all kinds of ready for a little comfort food, and super jazzed about the fact that I can eat in the afterlife. Maybe pizza or mac and cheese will make me feel better. Plus, calories can’t possibly count since I’m a ghost, right? Kaz said eating too much would make me feel like trash, but a little comfort food in moderation won’t hurt.

  This, of course, has me curious about how other things affect me now that I don’t have a body. Obviously, I can touch other ghosts, but what else can I still do? What are my limitations? Kissing, for instance. Or…

  “Hey, Billie, wait up!”

  I jump a little and turn to see Yasmin sprinting toward me, waving as she runs.

  I pause, holding the door open and working up a smile.

  “Uh, can I sit with you at dinner?” She asks, tugging on the bottom of her striped shirt. “I’ve been sitting alone the last few days. My roommate, Melissa, says her table’s full.”

  “Psh, she sounds lovely. And yeah sure, we’ve got plenty of room.” I snort. “As long as you don’t mind one person in our group being a bit cranky.”

  As we float to the counters for our trays, Yasmin chuckles. “Landon is a prickly pear, isn’t he? Kind of cute, but broody.” She uses tongs to fill a bowl with salad greens. “There’s a rumor he was a model when he was alive. Maybe starving himself to keep his girlish figure built up a lot of resentment that carried over into the afterlife.”

  I snicker. “That would make anybody angry. Or, hangry, I guess. Maybe he died doing some kind of fad diet.”

  Yasmin and I grimace at each other, and she adds a couple of boiled eggs to her salad. “Feels weird to be so casual about death, huh?”

  “Very.” I spoon some awesome looking mac and cheese onto my plate. “I figure it helps not to tiptoe around it.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” Yasmin releases a heavy sigh. “I got hit by a car. It took a corner too fast and, well, the end of that story’s obvious, I guess. I’m pretty sure my unfinished business is a friend of mine, Rosa.”

  When she doesn’t expound, I nudge her with a shoulder, add some roasted chicken to my dinner, then lead the way toward my table. Landon and Haya are already there, but Rafe’s nowhere to be seen. Disappointment curdles my gut. I brush it aside and glance at Yasmin.

  “I have no clue how I died.”

  “Seriously?” she asks.

  “Nope. Hoping my memories will come back soon though. Without them I’ll have a hard time completing my unfinished business.” We reach the table and I set down my tray. “Got room for one more?”

  Haya grins. “More than enough room. Have a seat!”

  As I introduce Yasmin to the group, Landon glowers, but doesn’t protest. Good. I’d be tempted to kick him out of his chair if he did. Yasmin and I settle just in time for Rafe to shuffle up with a freckle-faced kid he introduces as Quinn who carries nothing but a Styrofoam cup I’m pretty sure is full of smoothie.

  Why in the realm of the dead would anybody waste their afterlife on smoothies?

  They sit and I glance between the two, wondering if this is the less than stellar roommate he’d mentioned before. Based on looks, the kid’s kind of a wash, but not necessarily a nightmare to room with. Then again, basing anything on looks is complete crap. Landon proves this on a daily basis. His gorgeous face can’t make up for his garbage personality. And I’m definitely not into bullies.

  I focus in on Yasmin, who is all kinds of lovely. “Were you a supe?”

  “Yes, I could fly,” she says. “What about everybody else?”

  For the first time I realize I don’t know the answer to this. Apart from Rafe, I have no clue what everyone else’s powers are. I should have asked, and the fact that I didn’t fills me with guilt. This limits my ability to breathe. Even though I don’t need to do it, it still feels painfully necessary. Amnesia is no excuse for self-focus. I lift my brows and focus on the others’ answers.

  “Flying sounds awesome. It’s every human’s first answer in the question about what super power they could have.” Rafe nudges Yasmin, dimples at full power.

  Even Landon can’t quite dodge their effect. He offers a tight smile I can tell he’s restraining. “Fair point. What about you?”

  “Fox shifter. But not tiny like a fennec with giant ears.” Rafe flexes dramatically. “I’m huge. Very tough.”

  Yasmin laughs. “Me thinks he protests too much.”

  Rafe presses a finger to his lips. “Shhhh.”

  To my surprise, Landon answers next, albeit with a healthy dose of sneer. “Supe. I control and create fire.”

  “Appr
opriate, right? I often wonder which came first, the fiery personality or the power. Age old question of chicken and egg.” Haya giggles, then wiggles her fingers. “I’m a straight-up psych. Nothing like the Paranormal Princess. The Enforcers never would have even considered giving me a call, but I was nothing to spit at. Or whatever the phrase is.”

  I snort, but before I can answer for myself, Quinn steps up. “Vampire.”

  We all stare, but he doesn’t give any more information, and the pinched look on his face doesn’t invite answers. It’s a ridiculous reaction, especially since we’re all dead. I guess prejudice and the fear that comes with it don’t die easy. My skin prickles, begging me to speak up as he squirms under the group’s stares. I figure redirecting their attention is the only way to save him. Good thing I’ve got a pretty weird story.

  “I’m a witch who can see the dead, but that’s about all I can remember. On top of being life-deprived as Kaz says, I’ve also got crippling amnesia.”

  Yasmin presses a hand to her chest. “The horror. Were the Healers able to help at all?”

  “Not really. They said it would take some time.” I stab at my mac and cheese. “Because we have so much of that.”

  Haya squeezes my forearm. “The mind can be a very complicated machine. Even without the electric impulses which we left behind when we died. But maybe we can help? A round of rapid paced questions might jar something loose.”

  “That’s what I said.” Rafe’s grin hits full power.

  Landon snorts — his go to emotion — but then straightens a little in his chair. “That’s not actually a terrible idea.”

  I gasp and cover my mouth. “He approves. I’m in shock.”

  “It’s a better idea than the one you had in the woods.” Landon sneers and I roll my eyes.

  Rafe lifts his brows. “What happened in the woods?”

  “This genius was attacked by one of the Twisted,” Landon says. “She then decided to stand and stare stupidly at it instead of running. Even reached out to it like she had an after-life death wish.”

  Haya’s entire form flickers as her eyes go wide. “You were attacked?”

  I flick a strand of floating hair out of my face. “Not attacked. I really don’t think it wanted to hurt me.”

  Landon glares. “The Twisted don’t want anything. They can’t think. And the next time one gets anywhere close to you, grow half a brain and run.”

  Arms crossed, I return his narrow-eyed expression. “Right. So, we just leave them crying out in pain like that. Sounds like an awesome plan.”

  “Because you can help them?” Landon asks. Flames flicker off the tips of his fingers and red tinges his body. “I knew you were a stupid blonde, but I didn’t think you were that arrogant.”

  “Dude, back off.” Rafe’s jaw is tight and his dark brows low.

  With a growl, Landon pops up from his chair, hauling his tray up with him. “Whatever.” He jabs a finger at me. “But suggestions like that get people hurt. So do us all a favor and don’t talk about stuff you don’t understand.”

  Chapter Eight

  Since I couldn’t talk to Rafe at dinner with everybody around, plus all of the drama, I make it my goal to pull him aside some time today. It helps that because we’re both new, we have multiple classes together, including Corporeal Contact. Which I am currently running late to because I overslept. I never used to be a breakfast person — another fact that pops into my brain as I bolt downstairs — but bacon sounds extra good right now and I’m sad I’ve missed out.

  I tear down the hallway toward the back of the school, diving headfirst at the door, assuming I’ll slide right through. My skull collides with solid iron. Sparks fly across my vision and I stumble backward. If this were a rom com, I’d fall into the arms of a gorgeous, moody man-hunk.

  But this is the afterlife. So instead, I crash right onto my butt, feet flying over my head. At least I didn’t crash into Landon again. That would be way worse. The door I just battering-rammed my head with swings open and a massive group of ghost students stare down at me. A girl wearing an over large shirt, ripped skinny jeans, and her black curls pulled into a scrunchie smirks down at me, then schools her expression into a look of concern.

  “Oh dear, are you okay?” She steps forward and extends a hand. “You have to be careful with the Corporeal Contact door. It’s lined with iron for practice.”

  Based on that previous smirk, I don’t trust her, but I accept the help up anyway. Her grip is intense, strong and surprisingly callused. Not what I would have expected from someone with French tips. Or a piercing in one of her dimples. Probably a dumb assumption to make. As I brush off my butt — probably a worthless endeavor — I return her smile, hoping it doesn’t look as fake and stiff as it feels.

  “Got it. Don’t use my head as a battering ram when iron is involved. I now see my mistake.”

  “Yes, a very painful mistake.” The girl’s voice is still nice, but with her back to the other students, she rolls her eyes. She turns around, shooing the others away from the door with a flick of her wrists. When they’ve cleared out, she waves at the dark lines in the wood. “If you see these, you know the door isn’t safe to float through.”

  Without another word, she winks at me, then strolls back into the classroom. I shove my fists into the pockets of my jacket in order to avoid giving her a sarcastic salute. My spirits lift fast when I see Rafe weaving his way through the small group to meet me. That beautiful boy’s grin could turn any crap day around.

  He glances at the door and winces. “That had to suck.”

  I grin. “Like a vacuum cleaner. Please tell me you made the same mistake and I’m not the only one who tried to plow through this monstrosity.”

  “You’re not the only one who made the mistake of trying to plow through that monstrosity.” Rafe gives me a big cheesy smile and I laugh.

  “Aw, thanks for lying.” I clasp both hands to my chest as I follow him inside. “That’s the sweetest fib anybody’s ever told me. I think.”

  Rafe’s face twitches a little, but he hangs on to the happy. “Well, it’s not a total fib. I did crash into the bathroom door last night, so I got to learn the error of my ways in private instead of in front of the class. Well, relatively private. Scared the crap out of poor Quinn.”

  We sit on a pair of mats near the back of the classroom. It looks a little like the Discovering Your Unfinished Business classroom. The only difference is that there are no desks and the front of the room is full of various objects, presumably for us to practice handling with our ghosty hands.

  Quinn sits a few rows in front of us. I’m a little surprised to see him here, but then again, I don’t know that much about the kid, not yet anyway. I give him a little wave and he offers me a small smile. I’m pretty sure I misread his shyness before.

  Yasmin floats in and snags the empty spot next to him, a grin with almost the same wattage as Rafe’s lighting her face. Quinn looks mildly overwhelmed as she immediately starts chattering at him, but he nods and even mumbles a few times in response.

  They would be so cute together...

  A woman wearing an obnoxiously bright green polo drifts through the open door. When she reaches the front of the room, she gives us a smile. “Good morning.”

  The entire class responds in unison, repeating her greeting in a sort of dull drone. I suppress a laugh. We sound dead even for the life deprived. Maybe I’m not the only one who missed my morning coffee.

  “My name is Ms. Troges and I will be your Corporeal Contact instructor. In this class, you will learn how to interact with objects still in the land of the living. All of them are unspelled.” She gestures to the balls and books behind her. “Once you have mastered the first part of this class, you can begin your combat training. Both of these skill sets will be necessary for completing your unfinished business and eventually passing on.”

  Ms. Troges squats to pick up a frisbee. “This class can be tricky, as those of you who have been here for a fe
w weeks already know. Because we are not technically on the same plane as these items, our forms essentially pass by one another.” She smiles and tosses the frisbee to Quinn.

  Automatically, he throws up his hands, but it sweeps right through him like he’s not much more than smoke. It then pings off a wall and slides across the ground next to my mat. Everyone laughs a little. Without really thinking about it, I reach down and grab at the edge. Though I don’t get a grip, the frisbee does move, scraping about an inch toward Rafe.

  “That’s a good start, Ms…?”

  “Martin.”

  “As I said, touching objects in an opposite plane is difficult. But not impossible,” Ms. Troges says. “It simply takes concentration and practice. There is no exact science to it. Something you will learn when we cover our unit on telekinetic contact. Any of you who wished to have this ability while you were alive are in for a treat. Now Ms. Martin, why don’t you give it another try?”

  I squint at the orange disk. This feels like a trap. If she uses me as an object lesson, I will be most annoyed. I’ve already banged my head against a door, I can’t be used as an example of what not to do again.

  Eyes still narrowed, I reach down a second time, concentrating on crossing over planes. That phrase slides through my mind as my fingers make contact. “Score.” I pick up the frisbee and wave it for the whole class to see.

  Rafe starts a round of applause that Ms. Troges joins until I throw it back to her. “Excellent work, Ms. Martin. Tell me, what was your thought process?”

  I wind a strand of hair between two of my fingers. “Well, there was this phrase that popped into my head. Crossing over planes? I’m not sure exactly what it means, but it helped. When I was alive, I was a witch with medium abilities, so maybe that’s why I knew it?”

  Ms. Troges’ brow lowers a bit, but she nods. “That is a possibility. Though that phrase is...specific. We can discuss it later. For now, I want everyone to partner up. I will bring you each an object from the front of the room to practice with. Keep what Ms. Martin said in mind. It is excellent advice.”