Wickedly They Come (The Wickedly Series Book 1)

by Cathrina Constantine

  The rustic Dutch colonial reminded Jordan of the classic movie Amityville Horror, which was not what she needed to think about right now. They trekked to the doorway as the threatening clouds split, pelting them with icy pebbles. Thrill clutched Jordan’s arm, carting her swiftly into the house. They chuckled while brushing ice bits from their head and shoulders.

  “Here, let me take your coat.” He draped her wet jacket over a chair sitting in the entryway. Like an adoring fan, Jordan watched as he pulled the fleece over his head. His T-shirt rode up, revealing firm skin above his belt, and flexing broad muscles. With a blitz of flush stealing up her throat, her eyes rebounded to anywhere besides his body.

  Barking laughter boomed through the hallway, and Thrill ushered her forward. A pestering chill struck Jordan, alleviating her recent flush, and a cryptic quiver chased along her spine.

  Numerous candles of differing heights were scattered throughout the kitchen. Their flickering flames sent exaggerated silhouettes over the room. The thought of her warm jacket crossed her mind while chafing cold hands. However, the lacquered Ouija board centered on the table distracted her.

  “All right, our new member has arrived,” Ronan announced. She hooked her arm over Jordan’s shoulders and led her to a chair. “Have you ever played with an Ouija board?”

  “No…never had the opportunity.” She kept her tone level and controlled.

  “Then you go first,” Paisley suggested.

  “No. No, why doesn’t someone else go? I don’t know what to do.”

  “We can all play, but I’d like to see your abilities,” Ronan said.

  Sneaky, Ronan. “I don’t understand—my abilities?” She decided to play dumb, since it was the only way to see how advanced the other girl was in the mystical realm.

  “It’s easy,” she said. “Just hold on to this.” She stroked a heart-shaped piece of wood, imprinted with strange symbols as if it was a precious item. “It’s called a planchette or an oracle, because it can tell the past, present, or the future.” She then added, “Jordan. Sit.”

  Jordan sat opposite of her while Paisley and Cayden each settled in a side chair. Thrill and Rolly hovered around the table, observing.

  “Place your fingers lightly on the oracle. Now we speak to the spirits. Go ahead ask a question—anything.”

  “The s–spirits,” Jordan said. “This is a joke, right?” Uneasy, she remembered her father’s book and the consequences of playing spirit games. Communicating with the dead might create an opening for possession.

  “Come on,” Paisley said, annoyed. “Lighten up, it’s only a game.”

  Her reluctance aggravated Ronan, whose eyes narrowed. She complied and positioned her fingertips on the planchette.

  They waited and waited.

  The air suddenly felt electric, oppressive, and silent. The only distinguishable sound was their breathing. Ronan shut her eyes and drew in an extended breath, then parted her lips and exhaled. In a melodramatic voice, she asked, “Are the spirits with us tonight?”

  Astounded, Jordan watched the oracle creep to the word YES. Ronan must be better attuned supernaturally than she’d realized.

  “You’re moving this thing, right?” She asked, doubtful.

  A low snicker went round the table. Ronan glared and hushed everyone. Again, she pinched her eyelids tightly, concentrating. “Do you like our new friend?”

  The oracle spelled V-E-R-Y.

  A tingling sensation in Jordan’s fingertips produced a surge of goose bumps along her arms. She considered releasing the oracle, but wary of Ronan’s scorn, she unwillingly held on.

  “Can you help us?”

  YES.

  “What’s your name?”

  The oracle dragged to the J, A, then C, and lastly K.

  “Jack,” Paisley said. “Jordan, wasn’t that your father’s name?” Heated excitement showed on her plump face, as she stole a glimpse to Ronan.

  “No—” Jordan bolted, tripping over the chair.

  Thrill detained her in a two-armed embrace. She buried her head into his chest. She felt ashamed of her outburst, but her mind whirled. Is Dad trying to tell me something? If anyone could make contact, he could.

  “You’re all right.” Thrill hugged her in a more-than-comforting way.

  “We should’ve warned you,” Ronan said. “Cayden told us your father died. Sometimes they break through and speak to us.”

  Paisley backed her up. “People pay good money for psychics and mediums to contact their loved ones. They want closure or something. Really, Jordan, it’s okay to be scared, but we do this all the time and nothing terrible has happened. It’s awesome to speak to the dead.”

  Disentangling from Thrill’s arms, Jordan reminded herself of why she was there. She needed to know how involved the girls were in paranormal activities. The main instigator appeared to be Ronan. Will I be able to stop her from conjuring unwanted spirits?

  “Hey, I know.” Cayden looked eager. “Let’s ask something silly…like, will Ronan dance with that new guy, Mark, at the Winter Ball?”

  “That’s good,” Ronan said, appeased. Her almond shaped eyes skipped to Jordan. “You ask, Jordan.”

  Jordan wanted to tell them about the risks in testing paranormal spirits, but they’d probably laugh, ridicule her, and boot her butt out the door. Be patient. Time will come when they’ll listen to me. She replaced her fingertips on the oracle, and as instructed, asked, “Will Ronan dance with Mark at the Winter Ball?”

  She felt the dawdling movement toward the No.

  “Will Mark dance with Jordan?” Ronan chimed.

  YES.

  Ronan’s face registered distrust mixed with envy before she masked her expression, gracing Jordan with upturned lips.

  “I’m not even going to the dance.” Jordan pried her gaze from Ronan to Cayden.

  “I thought that was all settled. You’re going with us,” Cayden stated matter-of-fact.

  “No, it was never settled.”

  Strong hands came to rest on Jordan’s shoulders, and Thrill’s handsome face touched her cheek. “Come with us, please?” His polished tone was convincing.

  With everyone staring at her, the mortifying heat spread to her cheeks. She managed to say, “Maybe, all right, probably.”

  He squeezed her shoulders, making her heart flutter.

  “Great.” Cayden changed the topic by asking, “What does everyone think of the new guy?”

  “Man, he’s to die for,” Paisley gushed. Her eyes shot to Thrill as if she were trying to make him jealous.

  “Mark’s body is divine to the max,” Ronan added. “But it’s his eyes…

  “Yeah, his eyes,” Cayden concurred. “Like you lose yourself in them…almost…like…”

  “Like he can read your soul,” Ronan finished.

  Both Paisley and Cayden nodded. “Yeah, that’s it.”

  Rolly and Thrill groaned with exaggerated eye rolling.

  “We’re out of here,” Thrill said.

  “Where you going guys?” Cayden asked. “The night hasn’t even begun.”

  “These games suck,” Rolly snapped, indicating the Ouija board. “And listening to y’all getting hot and bothered over some guy was not what I had in mind. I’ve got better things to do.”

  “Are you guys going to The Watering Hole to meet up with Jen and Hilary?” Paisley asked snidely.

  Rolly’s expression brightened. “That sounds like a good idea. Thanks, Pais. Definitely better than this.” Rolly clapped Thrill good-humoredly on the back. “Now why didn’t we think of that sooner? A little drink, a little dance, a night of…whatever.”

  Amidst boisterous chuckling, the boys donned their jackets and left through the front door.

  “Good riddance.” Paisley banged her fist on the table. “Thrill’s so conceited. He’s probably mad ‘cause the girls have someone new to check out.”

  “Jealous, Paisley?” Cayden goaded her.

  “Not in the least. I hate him…som
etimes.”

  “Now back to Mark,” Ronan said, taking command. “He’s plain gorgeous, like, out of this world.”

  Jordan couldn’t contain herself. She burst out laughing, startling the fawning girls. “Mark’s okay. Kind of nice-looking. Yeah, you’re right,” she admitted, wondering what Markus would say about a bunch of teenagers ogling him.

  “Did I mention he’s in my earth science class?” Ronan wiggled her shoulders and a fervent smile touched her lips. “I’ve spoken to him a few times. Something’s different about that boy. I can’t figure him out.”

  Ronan turned back to Jordan. “I heard you were walking to school with him.” She sounded argumentative. “What’s that all about?”

  Caught off guard, she didn’t know how to respond except to be honest. “I was surprised to see him. He walked up from behind me and just started talking.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Er–um–mm…nothing important. I can’t really remember.”

  “Rumor has it that he’s living with Beth Schaffer’s family,” Paisley confided.

  “Oh snap.” Ronan’s nose crinkled. “Now I really despise her. She’ll be rubbing him in my face all year. Are they together, like, you know?”

  “Deacon Schaffer wouldn’t let that happen. Under his roof and all. I hear he’s strict and old-fashioned.”

  Jordan couldn’t handle any more ludicrous talk about her angel. “What does everyone wear to the Winter Ball?”

  The dialogue flipped to whether evening gowns should be long, short, slinky, or strapless and on to pedicures, manicures, and hairstyles. Then, there was a heated catfight between Paisley and Cayden, both intent on wearing a French twist. Next, the speculating trio gossiped about who was taking who to the dance, and eventually, they lost Jordan’s interest altogether.

  She surveyed the crusty kitchen, crumb-covered plates and filthy smudged glassware. Blooming from dual sinks was an avalanche of pots and pans. So unlike her grandparents’ kitchen, which was scrupulously scrubbed and polished.

  Ronan distributed soda and tore open bags of chips and pretzels. They were munching on snacks when she suddenly leapt from the chair. “It’s time. The witching hour.”

  They tagged behind Ronan into the parlor. Like the kitchen, it was in shambles with couch cushions awry, dirty plates, and half-filled glasses dotting the coffee table.

  “Cayden and Jordan sit on the floor. Pais come with me.” They walked up the staircase, and within minutes, reappeared carrying lit candles. Under her arm, Ronan held what looked like rolled parchment or cloth. Paisley arranged candles on the floor and switched off the lights.

  Jordan reckoned they were in for more tantalizing spooks. Watching as Ronan unrolled the cotton cloth, a qualm tore through her at the sight of an intricate pentagram—a design that promoted satanic worship and the summoning of the devil. She should’ve been prepared, but she’d never guessed Ronan’s psychic abilities went so far beyond teenage games. Instinctively, her fingers groped for her holy medal, but it was missing. She then slipped her hand into her pocket, and she remembered the holy water was in her jacket at the front door.

  Her confidence slowly ebbed. “I’m really not into devil stuff.”

  “Don’t be such a dweeby-geek,” Ronan scoffed. “A séance is a cool rush. We usually end up scaring ourselves.” Then pantomiming a stage magician, she raised her hands, crisscrossing them in front of her face. “It gets us in the mood,” said in a low monotone voice, “like watching a scary movie.”

  Paisley and Cayden giggled at her interpretation.

  Jordan’s bravado returned, especially after the dweeby-geek comment. “Let’s do this thingy.” She sent out an internal call for Markus.

  “Everyone hold hands. Whatever happens…if anything happens,” Ronan’s black pupils skirted their faces, “stay connected. Now close your eyes. Keep them closed and concentrate on the atmosphere around us.

  Paisley and Cayden practically crushed Jordan’s hands and shut their eyes. Jordan obliged, peeking every now and then.

  Minutes passed.

  Nothing

  Breathing

  Jordan liberated a suppressed giggle, releasing stress. Paisley mashed her hand like a nutcracker, putting an end to her chuckles.

  “Feel their presence,” Ronan breathed. “The spirits are nearby. Make yourselves known. Come, come and join us.”

  She began to mumble some gibberish under her breath. Jordan thought it might be Latin, but wasn’t sure. In her own head, she repeated, Dad, don’t come. Don’t come. Dad, don’t come.

  A convincing clairvoyant, Ronan’s hypnotizing voice sealed them into a mystifying state. A cool draft skimmed Jordan’s forehead and heavy footsteps approached. Her eyes flew open.

  Their faces looked ghastly in the candlelight, like the walking dead. A stiff wind whisked around them, and flimsy images started to develop. Jordan glanced at the girls, whose petrified eyes observed the increasing nightmare. Muffled murmuring mingled with their strained breathing, and the hair on Jordan’s body stood on end.

  Please, Dad. Don’t be an evil spirit.

  “We know you’re here.” Ronan sounded so sure of herself. “Can you communicate with us?”

  Jordan froze. The voices became more discernible. Her short-lived bravado was dissolving, and her eyes were glued to the blurry gray forms.

  “As you can see, we have added someone to our circle,” Ronan crooned. “Our new friend is Jordan Chase. We believe her father, Jack, is with you. Don’t be afraid to speak to us.”

  Jordan’s stomach somersaulted. Evidently, Ronan’s task was to contact her father.

  There was a temporary silence.

  Bang! Bang! The girls jumped in place, their shrieks cut off. Jordan felt a cold hand touch her shoulder, and a cry wedged in her throat.

  The floating gray matter gradually congealed into a hazy figure of a man. His stature dominated the room, and he seemed to be surveying the girls before him.

  He glided like smoke in the wind, coming precariously near Ronan. Jordan thought her eyes were playing tricks, but as implausible as it seemed, the shadow melded with the girl. The bond was immediate. Her eyes protruded, and the reddish membranes pierced Jordan. A tinge of fright then calculated fury disfigured Ronan’s face.

  “Rooonannn…” sighed a sluggish, throaty voice.

  Ronan moaned. Her body convulsed then became stiff. Rolling eyes tipped back into their sockets, and her head lolled from side to side. She expelled a deep, gurgling breath. Then, with an unnatural twist, her head jerked up. A diabolical tale of suffering escaped those red-rimmed eyes. Ronan, or whoever it was, drew near.

  Her mouth, disfigured by the spirit, opened to speak. A tang of fetid breath entered Jordan’s nostrils. Paralyzed, she was helpless to flee the toxic demon.

  “Jack Chase betrayed us.” A foul, guttural voice resonated in the room. “Seeley, snatched him away. Jordan is Mine. We want retribution.”

  “No–o–o–o!” Jordan’s spine-tingling scream broke the trance. She crawled on hands and knees away from the riled demon.

  A gust snuffed out the candles, leaving the room in total darkness. She heard gasps and pleas as her fingers fumbled until she felt the wall. And then, oddly, the gasps turned into the girl’s giggling like a bunch of lunatics. Someone scurried to the lamp and light returned.

  Ronan lay prostrate on the floor. Paisley and Cayden crouched on either side of her. Each seemed to be waiting. For what, Jordan didn’t know. Ronan’s shoulders began to heave. She broke into hoarse, almost hysterical laughter. Jordan recognized relief in Cayden and Paisley’s faces. They vented in a fit of giggles, rolling on the carpet in some kind of euphoria.

  Gathering her wits, Jordan held the wall for support. She rose guardedly, expecting to see Ronan’s red eyes and the contained demon. Cautiously approaching the girls, she inspected her Ronan’s laughing eyes, which seemed perfectly fine.

  Paisley snorted gracelessly. “Wasn’t that awesom
e?” She lay sprawled on the floor, looking up at her.

  The girls stood and extended Ronan a helping hand. It was then she perceived a diluted shadow flee Ronan’s face.

  “Somebody don’t like your daddy,” Paisley said in a southern vernacular.

  “Maybe Jack was warning Jordan earlier,” Cayden suggested.

  Jordan fell silent, her brain revolving a thousand miles a minute. She heard the tiniest hint of a whisper in her mind, Warn them.

  The words stiffened the weak space between her shoulders. With courage, she said, “These…games…they’re not what you think. One day, maybe even the next time you play, something bad, something really bad could happen to any one of you. These things aren’t your friends.” Her tone sounded unimpressive, even to her.

  Their heads tilted, puzzled.

  They totally didn’t get it.

  “You act like an expert on psychic phenomenon.” Ronan swiped the bangs from her forehead. “But you know what I’ve learned, Jordan? These spirits help me more than any person.”

  More than frustrated, Jordan elaborated. “These spirits are hellish beings oozing from the abyss and materializing into despicable fiends.” Seeing Ronan’s puckered grin, she added, “I’m serious.”

  “Wow,” Ronan said caustically. “I guess you’ve read your father’s book from cover to cover. Do you really believe what he wrote? I found it quite instructive, although probably not in the way he expected. I’m quite the psychic myself, if you haven’t noticed.”

  Jordan felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. Inhaling jaggedly, she glimpsed Cayden, who hid her beet-red face.

  “You know what?” Ronan said. “I think we can help each other. You know more than you’re letting on, and there’s some big reason why your father’s trying to make contact. You must be curious?”

  “I think you’re wrong.” It would be a mistake to reveal family secrets.

  With arms akimbo, Paisley and Cayden hung on every word.

  “Ronan’s never wrong,” Paisley interjected full of spite. “She has special powers. You better be careful what you say—”