Wraiths of Winter (The Haunting Ruby Series Book 3)

by Joy Elbel

  “Goodnight,” I said quietly and got into Rachel’s car. When we left the Bantam, I thought driving his car would be quite a thrill ride. As it turned out, it wasn’t the horsepower that got my blood pumping.

  17. Anatomy of a Wraith

  Rachel could tell that something happened on the ride to Lucas’s house. I knew her well enough to see that the second I got in her car. The fact that she didn’t drill me for details was the shocking part. Instead, she spoke only of Allison and what I experienced earlier at the theater. And how any of it could help us find Crimson.

  “I don’t know, Rachel. The one thing I’m sure of is that I need to talk to Rita ASAP. I need to know what I’m dealing with before I go any further. I refuse to set foot in that theater again until I talk to her.” And even then I might still refuse.

  She nodded her head in agreement. “You’ve told me all the stories about what the other ghosts did to you but this time it kind of hit home. Seeing you there bleeding for no apparent reason, well, it was hard on me, too.”

  “I’m glad you understand. Going through all of that alone was the toughest part—knowing I have you helps.”

  Quickly, she blurted out, “And Zach, too. You have Zach.” Zach. I wanted to keep as much of it from him as I could. How else would I know whether he loved me or just loved saving me? But Rachel sounded slightly panicked, as if she’d heard every word Lucas spoke to me in the car. I knew that wasn’t even remotely possible but it made me feel guilty. So for her sake—and the sake of my conscience, I agreed.

  “And Zach, of course. I’ll always have Zach.” But in what way? I used to think he would leave me because of the drama. Now, I was afraid that my drama was his only reason for staying. Since the day I met Lucas, black had become white, up had morphed into down. I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

  Rachel seemed convinced—for now—that her brother’s relationship was still intact. “You’ll always have him and me, too. Don’t forget that. Let me know what Rita says, okay? And I’ll talk to Boone about getting some information out of Drake about what happened on Halloween.”

  “I will. Call me after rehearsal and I’ll fill you in.” I smiled so she wouldn’t see the confusion below the surface. But the second I turned my back, it faded. I walked back into Rosewood not quite the same person I was when I left it.

  Zach must have called me the second Rachel filled him in on the details. If I’d thought it was possible to convince her not to tell him about my encounter with Allison, I would have tried. But I knew it wasn’t, so the only thing I could do was downplay anything she told him. If he thought she was exaggerating—which she was totally guilty of in any situation—he would have less to worry about and less reason to don the superhero cape.

  “It really wasn’t that big of a deal, Zach. Trust me. Rachel blew it way out of proportion.” “She cut you, Ruby! How can you say it was no big deal?” His voice was full of worry and panic. Just what I didn’t want to hear.

  “It was more of a scratch, actually,” I said casually. A scratch that hurt like hell. I dabbed an alcohol wipe down the length of it as we talked, careful not to audibly wince in pain as it stung my skin.

  “Cut, scratch—whatever you want to call it, you’re bleeding,” he argued. “Maybe I should come with you to the theater tomorrow, you know, just in case you need me.”

  Okay, so that was the last thing I wanted—or needed—to hear. “I’m actually skipping rehearsal tomorrow night. Rita won’t be back from her weekend trip until Sunday. I want to talk to her about Allison before I go back into the Bantam.”

  The panic in his voice eased. “That’s a good idea. I’ll meet you at Something Wick-ed after work Sunday. I want to hear what she has to say.”

  Dammit! If he was there, I wouldn’t be able to tell Rita everything. There had to be a way to change his mind. “I was actually hoping you would pick us up some movies and then meet me at Rosewood instead. Tomorrow’s a school night, remember. If we don’t plan things perfectly, we won’t have a lot of time to spend together.”

  Zach hesitated. “Do you promise to tell me everything she says?”

  “Promise,” I agreed. After watering it down, of course.

  “Okay,” he said, followed by a long pause. Silence after that meant only one thing. He was about to ask me what happened with Lucas. At least I knew Rachel couldn’t have told him that Lucas said he loved me because she didn’t know he said it. So I decided to skip the song and dance and tell him that I drove Lucas home.

  “Yeah, so a light fell on the stage and almost killed Lucas. He was a hot mess after that so I drove his car home for him.” There. That ought to do it.

  “Rachel told me. She also told me that you seemed different afterwards. Care to elaborate?” No, not really but I had to anyway. “Different? Maybe. Lucas was really upset by what happened. He was talking about how it felt to be so close to death. It made me think about all of the times I almost died. I got a little depressed I guess.” Good enough excuse? I certainly thought so. It was plausible, very, very plausible.

  And Zach thought so, too. “Getting pushed down those stairs was the closest I’ve ever come to death. I can’t even imagine how it feels to be you. Are you feeling better now?”

  “I am now that I’m talking to you,” I replied, happy that he wasn’t digging any further into the details of tonight. And I did feel better while talking to him. Even in my darkest moments, he managed to shine a light for me to follow. And I followed it extra closely now. As we talked, Lucas’s confession faded into the recesses of my brain, faded in the shadow of how Zach made me feel. When our conversation ended, I curled up in bed with Coco convinced that he loved me for the right reasons. I should have known another nightmare was on the horizon.

  I walked onstage at the Bantam Theater, the heels of my boots rapping rhythmically across the hardwood floor. The interior of the theater was pristine, every inch refurbished and gleaming in the glow of the chandelier. The mingled scents of lavender and lemon were a far cry from the usual odor of death and misery. I came to the edge of the stage and stood staring out at the grandeur. I had a sense of peace and satisfaction. This was how the theater should be.

  Then in the center of the theater, something began to change. It was like someone flipped the switch from color to black and white. The dingy velvet seats were draped in dust, the wood floor was all but rotted away. Two figures appeared—one just off stage to my left, the other at the far corner of the theater, just below the balcony.

  One by one, the tiny bulbs of the chandelier began to pop and explode. Bursts of blinding light escaped each one just before they went dark as though they were emitting their dying breaths. The sizzle of raw electricity hung in the air, wisps of smoke flew from the exposed wires. Wallpaper fell from the walls in sheets; the carpeting seemed to be unraveling itself. Flakes of plaster fell from the ceiling in ever growing chunks. The once beautiful Bantam was somehow destroying itself.

  I had to get out before everything caved in. But which way should I go? The emergency exits on both sides were blocked by falling beams. The main entrance at the back sat below the balcony that swayed precariously as the building shook. The figure at the back of the theater called out to me.

  “This way, Ruby! I’ll get you out of here safely!” Zach shouted, his hand extended toward me. “You have to trust me!”

  The figure to my left spoke up. “No, Ruby, don’t! There’s a better way—a safer way. Follow me!” Lucas cried, pointing backstage.

  I turned to see where he was gesturing. Off stage, the destruction was minimal. The only thing out of place was a crystal vase lying shattered on the floor. It seemed like the best way out. Why would Zach want to lead me through the chaos when all I had to do was slip out the back door?

  “No!” Zach screamed over the sound of splintering wood. “There’s no such thing as an easy way out! You have to believe me!”

  “He’s wrong,” Lucas instantly chimed in. “There’s always an easy
way out—let me show you.” He took a step closer and held out his hand. I couldn’t decide which way to go. Going with Lucas made sense but I couldn’t ignore Zach. What if he was right? What if the easy way out wasn’t so easy after all? As they both pleaded with me to follow them, I held my ground. Figuratively, but definitely not literally. The boards beneath my feet rocked back and forth, slowly at first, then wildly like a rowboat in a typhoon. Before I could decide, the stage swallowed itself and me along with it. I fell into an endless pit of darkness a split second after finally knowing which way I should have gone.

  But as often happens with dreams, I awoke unable to recall the revelation I had as I plummeted into the depths. It wasn’t my usual brand of nightmare. No, this one was much different. Memories of the theater collapsing around me weren’t the worst part of it. The recollection of how torn I was between Zach and Lucas was what frightened me the most. If only I could erase the sound of the words “I love you” coming from Lucas’s lips. But I couldn’t and I had the unmistakable sense that something changed forever last night. I was at an emotional crossroads and there was no turning back now. A tough decision lay before me regardless of how I looked at it. Falling back to sleep was impossible so I pulled out my laptop and wrote until morning arrived.

  I must have checked my phone a billion times on Saturday hoping for a text from Lucas. But what did I want that text to say? Did I want him to take back that heartfelt confession by claiming it was the shock that made him say it? Or did I want him to confirm it, to profess his undying love for me? Either one would have been better than hearing nothing.

  I turned down Zach’s offer to join the Masons for dinner in favor of working on my term paper for Mr. Raspatello. He was disappointed but understood perfectly well that school had to come first. What he didn’t know was that I finished my term paper during study hall on Friday. Instead, I isolated myself in my room with my laptop and worked on my book until I couldn’t stop my eyelids from closing. Writing seemed to be my only escape from the mixed feelings I was having, the only way to recapture a less tumultuous time. In the morning, I reread what I wrote, amazed at what I found hidden between the lines.

  Rita was due back in town at six so I closed the shop and hung around to wait for her. I read every file in her cabinet while dealing with Garnet but nothing in there even remotely matched the description of what I was experiencing with Allison. Shades, phantoms, spirits—all were mentioned but bore no resemblance to what was happening in that theater. Allison was definitely in a class all by herself but what if Rita had never even dealt with something so malevolent? I knew the accident on the bridge that day would stick with me forever but I never anticipated how greatly it would change my life.

  I was lost in thought and the sudden sound of Rita’s key in the door startled me. Geez, you would think my nerves could handle more than that by now. I emerged from the office to help her bring in her bags and gave her a start, as well. Some ghost hunters we were.

  “Ruby, I didn’t expect to find you here. When I saw the lights on, I just thought you forgot to turn them off.” Rita bustled into the back of the shop with suitcase still in hand. She looked the same as always but there was something different about her. It must have been a good investigation because she looked incredibly happy.

  “Can I talk to you about something—something paranormal?” I sat down in the seat by the desk and she made herself comfortable in her leather desk chair. It felt oddly like a psychiatrist/patient relationship. Hmm, was there such a thing as a paranormal psychiatrist? If not there should be— there was a definite market for it in this town.

  “So what’s going on? Didn’t you take care of that ghost at school months ago?” “I did but there’s a new ghost in town.” I paused to admire Rita’s new amethyst ring and the perfect French manicure just below it. She never got her nails done—what inspired the new look? There were more pressing issues at hand so I stifled my curiosity about her change in personal grooming habits and continued on. “This time I know who she is and how she died. What I really need to know is who murdered her.”

  Rita listened intently as I described the details of Allison’s disappearance and murder then moved on to my encounters with her. The further I plunged into my account the more worried she looked. When I got to the part about my arm being sliced, she began to tap her fingernails sharply against the desk. I couldn’t let her ruin that fabulous new mani on my account so I flattened my hand against hers to stop the rhythmic rapping.

  “So that’s everything. What am I up against here?” I asked cheerfully, all the while knowing the answer wouldn’t be anything to cheer about.

  Rita sucked in a slow breath and held it momentarily before exhaling. “Well, I’ve never actually encountered one myself but it sounds like a wraith to me.”

  What a relief. One of Rita’s earlier case files told the story of a playful yet slightly impish entity in a college dormitory in West Virginia. It was one of the first files I read, so she must have forgotten about it. “Yes, you have! I remember reading about it in one of your files. It was one of the funnier cases you investigated so I remember it well. This shouldn’t be a problem at all.” Finally, a little bit of good luck for a change.

  “No, Ruby. What I encountered on that college campus wasn’t a wraith. That was in my early days as a ghost hunter before I realized there was an organized hierarchy of ghosts. Back then, I gave my cases names that sounded good with total disregard for accuracy. What you’re facing is something very dangerous.”

  So much for good luck. Wraith. about it, it was a scary sounding word. Now that I thought It brought to mind

  ancient stone castles with hidden torture chambers and horrors beyond belief. So minus the castle part, it fit my situation perfectly.

  But I had to stay positive. “What can you tell me about them? How do you get rid of them?” I rummaged through my bag for a notebook and pen. Something told me it would be advantageous to take notes this time.

  “When I was living in Texas, a colleague of mine encountered one and included his findings in the paranormal research guide he was writing.” Rita pulled a book from the shelf and searched for the right page. “Here we go.”

  She pointed out a paragraph and then slid the book across the desk to me. “I’m afraid I don’t know any more about them than what’s written here. They’re incredibly rare.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be the showpiece of my ghost collection then, won’t she?” I was joking of course but Rita failed to crack a smile—discomforting to say the least.

  Reading through the passage, I grew more troubled with each word. “Unbridled fury” and “soulless revenge” are phrases that should never be contained within one sentence. I came to one conclusion—things didn’t look so good for me.

  Unable to finish reading, I handed the book back to her. “Just break it down for me—what exactly is a wraith?” “A wraith is the ghost of someone who died in a severe state of terror and rage—murder victims mostly. Something about that extreme emotional turmoil at the time of death seems to take away their humanity and ability to direct their anger appropriately. They simply find an innocent victim and exact their revenge as though that person were their tormentor. They’re very powerful and they distort your senses. They’re forever tied to the locations of their deaths. Without a doubt, she was murdered in that very theater.” Rita leaned forward in her chair and whispered gravely, “If I were you, I would never set foot in that theater again. Wraiths aren’t something to mess with for even the best of investigators. You don’t have enough experience to take her on—even both of us together wouldn’t be enough.”

  Not what I needed to hear. In essence, she just handed me my death notice. Was there nothing I could do to help Crimson now? If she died because I was too scared to help her, I would never forgive myself. There had to be a way to fight Allison’s power and find out who killed her.

  “Isn’t there some way of getting through to her, of finding out who murdered
her?” I asked hopefully. Rita shook her head. “Wraiths have no desire to communicate. Their only purpose is to seek revenge on anyone who crosses their paths. They’re unable to perceive the living except for those of us with the power to see them. She knows you can see her—she has you in the crosshairs.”

  I made a decision, albeit an unadvisable one. “I have to go back, Rita. The police are no closer to finding Crimson. If there’s even the slightest chance I can save her—”

  Rita interjected, “There’s more than a slight chance that you’ll be the next one who needs saving! I’ll ask my friend in Texas for advice but please, in the meantime, stay away from the Bantam.”

  I made her that promise and headed home. Until I saw his car in front of the mansion, I’d forgotten that I invited Zach over to watch movies. He could never find out the kind of danger I was putting myself in. I had to convince him that everything was okay, that Allison was nothing more than a harmless lost soul. Maybe I should have tried out for the part of Kira—I was about to pull off the greatest acting performance of my life.

  I put on a stellar smile and pretended nothing was wrong. No ghost issues, no Lucas, no nightmares that questioned our relationship. As soon as we were upstairs in my room, Zach wanted details. True to their twin-like nature, Rachel called at that very moment to get the story as well. And they got it—just not as in depth as it was given to me and dramatically less dire.

  “Good to hear, Ruby!” Rachel said. “Boone’s visiting Drake Wednesday night so I’ll fill you in when he gets back. I’ll let you go now but can you put Zach on for a minute?”

  “Sure,” I said and handed him the phone. “She wants to talk to you.” Their conversation seemed tense, as though she were trying to convince him to do something that he didn’t want to do. She was probably asking him to lie to their parents so she could spend more time with Boone again. Zach was obviously uncomfortable so I went to fix my hair and let him fight with his sister in peace. When I returned, he was in the kitchen unpacking the snacks he brought.