“Sorry,” Blake says, his voice dripping sarcasm. “I’m not our resident ghost expert.”
“It’s okay, Blake. It sounds like Logan’s overdue for his pain meds,” Rebecca says. I bite my tongue to keep the nasty retort at bay. Hell, she’s right… I am overdue for some pain relief.
“If she was cremated, then anything could be tying her spirit here,” Kacie says still eyeing the wall as though it contains lost secrets.
“It doesn’t really matter, though,” Rebecca says. “I think banishment through burning is the same as an exorcism. And I hate to think where she might end up if she’s exorcised.”
Blake shakes his head. “Wait, cremation is burning.”
“Thanks, Rebecca,” Kacie says before disconnecting the call. “Cremation sets the spirit free. If a spirit is tied to our plane and we force it to leave through burning, then it’s a bit different.”
“How so?”
“We perform a brief exorcism rite before burning an object we think ties a spirit here.”
“I don’t understand—”
I cut off the conversation. “We don’t have time for this bullshit.”
“He needs to understand,” Kacie says, laying her hand on my arm. “Whether a spirit realizes it or not, they are using dark magic or forces to tie their consciousness here. When we burn the thing tying them, it severs that magic. Rebecca’s doing some fascinating research on this. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to share.”
“Good enough.” Blake grins. “Now, can I smash through this wall?”
“One minute.” I pull out my phone to call Mr. Kincaid. When he answers, I don’t waste time. “We think there’s a hidden room. Can Blake tear down the wall?”
“Well? Can I?”
“You’re entirely too excited about this. Mr. Kincaid’s on his way up.”
As we’re waiting for approval, Blake sizes up the wall, making a big show of it… probably to annoy me. Damn but it works. I need to do a better job controlling my emotions around him. The last thing I want is for him to have any insight into my feelings. It’s hard to believe we were best friends five years ago. The memory brings images I’d prefer remain buried, and I clamp it down deep within me. I refuse to allow Tracy to use these memories against me…
Blake looks at me with inscrutable eyes. He knows what I’m thinking. His throat convulses as he swallows hard. I shake my head, and he goes back to his exploration of the wall. I feel a light tap on my arm. Glancing at Kacie, I try to ignore the question in her eyes. She saw the exchange, but I’m not ready to share—not yet, and certainly not here.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tear Down that Wall
KACIE
Such an odd exchange between Logan and Blake. Something big happened between them. But I can’t ask with a memory-stealing, emotion-abusing ghost lurking nearby. With the two of them working together so often now, it will come out—probably sooner rather than later.
Footsteps pound on the stairs making me tense for a moment. Our resident spirit has been quiet for a few minutes. Regrouping? Waiting? I release my aura, searching for anything unusual. Nothing. No cold spots or lurking shadows. My pulse races along with my vibrating bracelet. The only reminder that darkness lurks nearby. A breeze wafts down the hall, and I whip my head around looking for the source. Dark shadows dance on the ceiling for a second or two before disappearing. Were they even there? She has me jumping at shadows and wind.
Maybe Blake and Logan have the right idea. I’ve never seen anyone find a wall so interesting.
“What’s this about breaking down walls?” Mr. Kincaid asks as he rushes up, swinging a bright camping lantern. The light bobs with his steps, creating more eerie shadows on the walls and ceiling.
“The dimensions are off.” Blake makes a sweeping gesture at the wall. “I think there’s a room behind here.”
Now I watch three guys knock on the wall and scrutinize it likes it’s the most fascinating thing on the planet.
“You sure?” Mr. Kincaid asks.
“Only one way to find out,” I say, pushing Logan and Blake aside. “Hey, Tracy, I’m busting through this wall. How does that make you feel?” Before I can take a breath to taunt her again, something plows into me, sending me flying down the hall.
“Crap! Are you okay?” Logan asks when he reaches my side.
“Yeah. Rug burn doesn’t hurt nearly as much as road rash.”
Blake pulls me to my feet. “There must be easier ways… or do you just like getting tossed around, princess?”
“Why do you keep calling me princess?”
He bites his lip and gazes at me with a rather guilty expression. “Sorry… it’s just… that play you were in back in sixth grade…”
“I don’t remember you in sixth grade.”
“I didn’t go to your school, but I went to the play with Logan’s family to see Daniel.” He shrugs, looking rather sheepish. “You made quite an impression on twelve-year-old me as the fairy princess. Even now when I look at you, I see her.”
His frank admission leaves me speechless. I’m saved from commenting when the pictures Blake had removed from the wall rise from the floor and hover for a moment before flying at us. I duck waiting for impact. A loud crash of breaking glass and wood explodes around me, but nothing hits me. When I straighten up, Blake is shaking glass from his hair. He shielded me from the flying debris.
“Thanks.” I pick several long, wood slivers from the back of his flannel shirt.
“You okay?” Logan asks.
Blake chuckles. “It’ll take more than a few small pictures to hurt me.”
“Um, those weren’t exactly what I’d call small.” I kick at a thick piece of wood that landed next to my foot. “I think I’d be in the hospital.”
“You do wind up there a lot,” Logan says with a nervous laugh.
I glare at him. “You’re one to talk.”
“Let’s tear this wall down, shall we,” Mr. Kincaid says with a hint of glee in his voice.
Ugh. What is it with guys and destruction?
As they huddle together to discuss the most expedient way to break through, I wander the hallway, watching shadows gather and disperse in the lantern light. There’s a steady pattern to the ebb and flow, like a heartbeat or breathing. My footsteps crunch as I walk through the shattered photos, quietly watching for Tracy’s reaction to the impending destruction of the wall. Energy crackles in the air, making the tiny hairs on my arm stand on end. Adrenaline shoots through me. She’s about to manifest.
“Duck!” I shout.
Though I have no clue where the attack will come from, I do know it’s coming. They act immediately on my words and crouch down just in time. A door torn from its hinges flies over them, smashing into the wall just inches from their heads. Plaster and drywall dust fill the air, making it hard to breathe. I cover my nose with my hand, trying not to choke on the grit.
“What the effing hell!” Blake shouts as he picks up the remains of the large wood door and tosses it further down the hall.
“Language!” Mr. Kincaid snaps through coughs.
“I said effing not—”
“Stop.” Mr. Kincaid removes his glasses and cleans them on his shirt. “We need to focus, regroup.”
“There’s no time,” I cry, feeling the energy spiking again. “We go in now or get out of here. She’s coming back for more.”
Mr. Kincaid whips his phone out. “Marianne, I need you and the others to start with plan B. It should get the spirit riled up enough to leave us alone… or at least spread out her energy.” Silence fills the hall as he listens to her response. “No I haven’t seen anything, but she’s throwing stuff around here like a child having a tantrum. I think we found something and we need a distraction.”
LOGAN
I want to grab the phone from Mr. Kincaid, to make sure Mom is okay. She’s so open and empathic, I can’t help but worry a nasty ghost like Tracy might try to hurt her. But I retain my professi
onalism… somehow. Plan B involves the start of an exorcism ritual—sealing a bag of spirit-repelling herbs in the walls at the four cardinal points: north, south, east, and west. That will piss off Tracy, and hopefully keep her off our backs while we break down the wall. It isn’t safe for Mom though.
My fingers brush the phone in my pocket. I know I shouldn’t distract her, but I want to warn her. I don’t think she’s ever encountered a spirit as vicious as this one. She knows. Like a premonition or a vision, I feel the truth. By calling her I’d draw Tracy’s attention right to her. Unwise. I can tell the moment they start. The hallway warms up at least ten degrees, signaling Tracy’s exit.
“I need this,” I murmur to Kacie as I slip my leather jacket from her shoulders.
I hand the jacket to Blake. He shrugs it on without comment.
“Be careful,” Kacie calls out to Blake who turns and grins at her.
“The wall is no match for me, princess.”
He smashes his elbow into the drywall several times. Once there are some new holes, he grabs pieces in his hands and wrenches them from the wall. Piece by piece a small mound forms at his feet.
“I need a hammer or a crowbar,” he mutters, looking over his shoulder.
“How about we not introduce a deadly weapon with a sadistic ghost hanging around?” My words come out sharper than I intended.
“Logan?”
I glance over my shoulder at Kacie. Her face is scrunched into that adorable pout she gets when she’s confused about something. My shoulders slump and I hold my arms out to her. She buries her face in my neck as she cuddles in my embrace. I draw from her quiet strength while breathing in the light scent of vanilla in her hair. A few deep breaths later and I’m much calmer.
“Sorry.” I release Kacie and step forward to help Blake. “You think we can pull these boards off, the two of us?”
He nods. “We may end up with splinters, but I suppose that’s better than a flying crowbar to the head.”
Kacie grabs my arm. “Wait, you’re injured… or have you already forgotten?” Her voice is teasing but her eyes serious.
“I’ll do it,” Mr. Kincaid says as he rolls up one sleeve then the other. “I’m not much use for anything else.”
Loud thumps explode from the stairs leading down to the main floor. Chunks of the wooden railing scatter across the landing. Crap. We need to finish this and fast before Tracy tears the house down.
“Hold that end while I pull this one,” Blake says, grabbing onto a board blocking the hidden door.
Mr. Kincaid pushes on the board while Blake yanks on the other end. The wood splinters and cracks as the nails are pulled from the doorjamb. Once the board is off, Mr. Kincaid steps back, running a hand over his forehead.
“Maybe you were right,” Mr. Kincaid says in a strained voice. “Perhaps a crowbar—”
“Nah, I got it now.” Blake yanks two more boards free. “Now that they aren’t blocked it’s much easier.”
Pieces of wood fly as Blake continues pulling planks away from the door. He grunts and strains but the boards are no match for the brute strength of a werewolf. The last board is freed and he staggers back, falling on his ass. He blows the hair out of his eyes before tossing the last piece aside. Laughing, he leans back on his elbows.
“That was more of a workout than I expected,” he says, huffing a bit. “Someone really didn’t want us getting into that room.”
Kacie stares at him with wide eyes. “I had no idea just how strong you are.” She tips her head, studying him with an odd expression. “It’s… disconcerting.”
“I’d never hurt you, princess.” He rises from the floor in a fluid motion, more like flowing water than human. “A werewolf is good to have around,” he adds, handing my jacket back to her.
“I’m beginning to see that,” she murmurs, her eyebrows raised like she hasn’t decided yet. She takes the jacket and busies herself by sweeping off the plaster dust with her fingers. After she slips it on, she meets my gaze, unsure and nervous.
“We’re stalling,” I say, holding my hand out to her. “Ready?”
She nods, placing her chilled hand in mine. I push her behind me and lead the way through the mysterious doorway.
KACIE
I don’t know what I expected… but this isn’t it. The room is musty, tickling my nose with the stale copper aroma of blood. I sneeze several times and rub my nose with my hand. The flashlight beam bounces around the small room revealing two twin beds, a dresser, two nightstands, a bookcase—standard college room fare. A torn Rolling Stones poster droops from one wall. The carpet is shag, either cream or white, hard to tell in this light. What isn’t hard to see? A massive dark stain on the carpet in the middle of the room. Based on the smell, it must be blood. Tracy’s.
“My God,” Blake says in an odd nasal voice. When I glance back at him, he has his nose pinched shut. Werewolf senses. Almost forgot. It must smell awful to him. “Didn’t they even bother cleaning?”
Mr. Kincaid steps through the doorway and does a quick scan of the room. “It looks like they just boarded it up rather than trying to clean.”
“Eww.” My stomach roils with my words. It’s just sick on so many levels. “Why?”
“Better question,” Logan says, skirting around the dark stain on the floor. “Why is this room the only one in the house not wrecked?”
“You’re right.” I follow him to the dresser and sift through the papers on top. Nothing but concert posters and ticket stubs. These girls liked music. “You’d think Tracy’s anger would be focused on this room, yet she hasn’t touched it… why?”
“She can’t come in here,” Logan says his eyes darting around the room.
“Again, why?”
Logan shakes his head. “She’s the only one who can answer that.”
“Uh, I think…” Blake trails off, motioning his head toward the open doorway. “Here’s your chance.”
Her energy is cleaner, less murky—due to the start of the exorcism or our discovery of the room, I don’t know. She floats, a gray misty shape, watching, waiting. Our gazes lock as her form slowly bobs up and down in time with my breathing. Whatever I say or do next is critical. She’s on the cusp, hovering between good and evil. Confusion is apparent in her fathomless eyes.
“Come, in, Tracy,” I say, beckoning her forward with a wave of my hand. “Please, let’s talk.”
She shies away, and I pull back, lowering my hand to my side. Is this the same girl who pinned Raven to the ceiling and broke my boyfriend? Her energy wavers, beginning to fade.
“Wait!” Logan says, taking a step toward her.
I grab his arm, holding him beside me. “Please, wait.”
“They’re exorcising me,” Tracy says in a small, plaintive tone so unlike her prior attitude.
“What did you expect?” I ask, shrugging. “We warned you, begged you to cross over, to move on.”
“But… but…”
Blake leans forward, his words a whisper. “It’s a trick.”
He reveals the truth my mind wanted to hide. Like the words held magic, now I can see the sneer on her face, the plotting behind her eyes. I wanted to help her so badly that it blinded me. Maybe it was the vision, my desire for her to finally be at peace.
“Come join us,” Logan says in a pleasant, even tone. Points for him, I want to scream at her.
Blake chuckles, yet there’s no humor in the dry laugh. “Can’t, can you. Barred from your death site?”
“You know nothing!” Tracy spits out the words as her form solidifies. One moment she’s an ethereal gray mist, and the next she looks alive. “You aren’t even human.”
Blake blinks several times. “Was that supposed to be an insult?” He stares at her for several seconds. “You got a little…” He points at the bloody stains covering her clothes.
“Animal!” Tracy screams, her hair flying around her.
“You have no idea,” Blake says with a cruel smile.
“Want to see it?” she asks, staring at me, reading my mind.
“No.” I swallow around a hard lump forming in my throat. “I saw enough in my vision. I know you suffered terribly, and I am so sorry.”
“You. Can’t. Even. Begin. To understand. My pain.” She emphasizes every syllable, her bloodshot eyes never leaving mine.
LOGAN
I sense movement, and in the next moment Tracy throws herself at the barrier, a screaming, howling banshee. She fights against the magic barring her. Static electricity sparks through the room, zooming around, visible in the darkness. I push Kacie behind me as the manic ghost continues her relentless assault on the barrier. A deafening boom reverberates through the room, followed by a wave of energy. I push Kacie down, falling on top of her to shield her from the ghost’s wrath. Pain lances up my back like thousands of cat claws, making me cry out both in shock and pain. I glance back—Samson and Delilah hiss their displeasure at Tracy, their claws digging into my back.
The claws retract when I yell at them, and all the other pain surfaces. Ignoring the throbbing in my ribs, I roll to my side to free Kacie, sending the cats leaping away. Tracy lets out one last anguished wail before slumping and falling to the floor. My familiars circle her prone body, mouths open, scenting the air. The heaviness in the air lessens, but I continue to take in shallow breaths to keep from aggravating the pain. I watch Tracy, searching for… well not signs of life, but existence? Her form flickers like an old movie, and I wonder if she’ll just wink out of existence.
“Is she…” Blake trails off, pushing himself up on his elbows. “That was quite a blast. You both okay?”
“Yeah,” Kacie says, rubbing her head. “Where’s Mr. Kincaid?”
“Out here,” Mr. Kincaid says from the hall. “I got out just before the explosion.”
Twisted Sisters (The Orion Circle Book 2) Page 15
