Coldhearted (9781311888433)

by Matthews, Melanie

  It was early Sunday morning.

  When the group entered his room, he was awake, watching cartoons on TV. He was wearing a hospital gown, sitting up with his back against a set of pillows, and the lower half of his body was stretched out under a thermal blanket that rose to his hips. He was sipping what appeared to be apple juice through a straw and seemed to be enjoying every bit of it.

  He greeted them with a grin. “Hey, gang, what’s up?”

  Gunnar, Rory, Bree, Amee, and Jules crowded around, each giving him a hug, careful not to pull on his cords. He looked over Jules’s shoulder while she hugged him, staring at Edie, as she stood awkwardly at the end of his bed.

  When he let go of Jules, he said to Edie, “Don’t blame yourself; this wasn’t your fault.”

  She’d been holding back her tears, but now they fell.

  “Come here, baby girl,” he entreated in a soft voice.

  She approached and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She had to sit on the bed at his side to prevent from falling over his body. Gently, she felt the top of his forehead, where a white bandage had been placed along the ridge of his hairline.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, just a little bump on the noggin,” he said, and then gave her a don’t-worry-about-it kind of smile. “No big deal.” He turned toward Gunnar. “I only wish we’d gotten it on film.”

  Gunnar squeezed Quinn’s shoulder in a manly way; the gesture didn’t last very long. “Yeah, well, I’m just glad you’re okay. We got Edie’s EVP and I’m sure if we were to check the footage that shadow man would be on it. So…all in all”—he smiled—“the investigation at Grimsby Sanatorium was a success.”

  “But Edie didn’t find out how to rid herself of Tristan,” Jules reminded him.

  Edie shrugged, still being held by Quinn. “I might as well accept that Tristan Lockhart’s in my life for good. He’s way too strong. I might as well give in. Besides I don’t want to see anyone else get hurt.” She playfully tugged on Quinn’s earlobe and smiled.

  He wasn’t smiling. “No, Edie, you shouldn’t suffer because of some punk-ass poltergeist. We’ll find a way.” He turned toward Gunnar and the others. “I’m fine, really. Why don’t you all go home, get some rest, and do some research, yeah? Figure out how to help Edie.”

  “Okay, but we’ll be back, all right,” Rory said, and then gave Quinn another hug, brief and manly.

  Quinn slapped him on the back, reciprocating the gesture in his own tough guy way. “I’m good. Now get lost. Don’t you have a midterm to study for?”

  Rory sighed. “Unfortunately, yes.” He turned toward Edie. “We’ll see you later, all right, Edie? Hopefully, we’ll come up with something to get rid of your poltergeist. Until then, hang in there, all right?”

  She nodded and thanked him, along with Gunnar, Bree, and Amee. The twins and Edie exchanged phone numbers, promising to call each other and not just about paranormal activity; they encouraged Edie to visit them on campus and take a tour.

  After they’d left, it was just Edie and Jules. Jules went and sat on Quinn’s other side.

  He smiled. “This is great. I should get attacked by a lovesick ghost more often.”

  Edie sighed, aggravated. “I’m telling you, Tristan isn’t in love with me!”

  “Yeah, he is,” Jules said, agreeing with Quinn. “That’s probably why he attacked Quinn. Tristan sees him as a rival threat.”

  Quinn folded his arms behind his head, relaxing against the pillows. “Well, if he were alive, I’d kick his ass. But…considering he’s a ghost…” He stared into Edie’s eyes. “We’ll find a way,” he repeated. “‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way,’ right? I don’t like to accept defeat. I always get what I want.” He grinned. “But of course you know that.”

  Edie gave him a look. “Snatching up a girl from another guy isn’t the same thing as snatching up a ghost.”

  He cocked his head. “Maybe it is. I mean, I only snatch up girls who are tired of their guys, but aren’t willing to make the break with them. Also it’s the excitement of doing something bad and the possibility of being caught. It’s a thrill. Your ghost is the same. He seeks the thrill. He wants to be bad.”

  “So what’re you saying?” Jules questioned. “You’re going to offer to be his partner-in- crime?” Her tone was full of skepticism. “And then turn in him? I don’t think there’re ghost cops.”

  “Should be,” Quinn said. “Anyway, no, I wouldn’t offer to be his sidekick. I’d just play him, you know? Make him think I was on his side, and then, when he’s all deluded and vulnerable—”

  “You’d what?” Edie cut him off, finding his plan, no matter how absurd, to have some value.

  Quinn hesitated, and then said, “Well, that all depends on what Gunnar and the others discover. They’re the brains of this operation. I’m just the muscle.” He flexed his exposed arm, showing off.

  “And what,” Jules said, continuing to sound skeptical, “you’ll discover his weak spot and knock him ‘til he’s down?”

  Quinn nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Jules rolled her eyes but said nothing.

  “He’s a ghost,” Edie reminded Quinn. “I’ve seen him step out of mirrors.” She shivered at the memory. “And we’ve touched. Well, he wanted to touch, but his hand went right through mine. He’s so cold. And I don’t just mean his personality. When he was trying to hold my hand, it felt like ice cold water was coursing through my veins.” She shook her head. “I was sure I was going to die.” She looked back and forth between Quinn and Jules as she spoke. “So you see he doesn’t love me. I’m sure of it. He wants to beat me down, make me weak, fearful, and then when I’m finally broken, he wants me dead. That isn’t love. That’s hate.”

  It seemed as though she’d gotten through to them because Quinn and Jules didn’t argue.

  Jules excused herself to go to the bathroom. Edie started watching cartoons with Quinn, leaning back against his shoulder. He suggested that she stretch out her legs, considering she looked uncomfortable with them hanging off the bed. She did and lay beside him, relaxed and happy, joking around with Quinn.

  Not long after, the door opened and Mason entered the room.

  Jules had found another bathroom, not wanting to use the one in Quinn’s room, and now she came running inside, almost colliding with Mason. “Mason’s…here,” she said, trying to catch her breath, before she closed the door to the room.

  Obviously she’d been running to warn Edie and Quinn, but she hadn’t run fast enough. Although there was nothing going on between Edie and Quinn, it probably didn’t look good that she was in bed with him. It didn’t matter that he was suffering from a head wound that she’d partially caused by agreeing to go on a ghost hunt, knowing full well Tristan’s strengths and capabilities. Also Mason wasn’t supposed to know that she’d gone to the Grimsby Sanatorium.

  Well, now he did. Edie braced herself for his wrath.

  Edie wanted to explain, to apologize, but she found herself speechless. She was standing next to Quinn’s bed. Jules had come around to Quinn’s other side and was sitting in a chair, keeping a low profile. Mason remained standing far away, leveling a look of disappointment and perhaps hatred her way.

  There was a long stretch of silence before he spoke. “You lied to me,” he finally said. His tone was so soft, as if he were about to cry, but his eyes were completely dry.

  Edie finally found her voice. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, and then advanced toward him, but he backed away near the door in retreat. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I felt going to the sanatorium was the right thing to do. I thought I could break free of Tristan, once and for all, but you were right. He tricked me, made me think he was afraid of that place. He wasn’t afraid. He’s not afraid of anything,” she said solemnly.

  Mason had been keeping his eyes on her, never looking away once. “I was worried about you,” he said in a hard, emotionless tone tha
t betrayed his statement. “I thought you were really sick. When you weren’t answering your phone this morning, I went over to your house. Your car was gone. Your uncle came out and said you were at the hospital. I-I...” He paused, now visibly shaken, and then continued, “I feared the worst. I thought you’d gotten pneumonia. I was so scared.” He clenched his jaw, resolved not to show any more emotion. “Then I found out the truth: you’d gone to the sanatorium. There’d been an accident.” He turned toward Quinn, lying in bed, silent. “Your uncle said a good friend of yours was injured.”

  “He was—I mean, he is,” she corrected. “Tristan tried to kill him.”

  Mason wasn’t looking at her, instead staring hatefully at Quinn. “How many more girlfriends of mine are you going to steal?”

  “Whoa,” Quinn and Edie refuted in unison.

  Mason chuckled, but there was no humor in it. He finally looked at Edie. “You’re even using the same expressions. What’s next? Finishing each other’s sentences?”

  Quinn threw off the blanket and sat up, perching himself on the edge of the bed. Jules came by his side, ready in case he fell. He waved her off, then stood, and slowly walked toward Mason; well as far as his attached tubes would let him. Mason didn’t move, feet planted on the floor, but his fists were clenched, ready to fight.

  “Dude, you got it all wrong,” Quinn said. “I didn’t steal Edie. Yeah, I stole Rochelle from you, and well, I’m sorry.” He pointed a threatening finger at Mason. “But don’t you dare come in here and accuse Edie of betraying you.”

  “SHE DID!” Mason barked, wide-eyed. The raw, emotional turmoil that he’d been restraining was now let loose. “SHE LIED!” He angrily raked his fingers through his hair, and then relaxed, looking at her, heartbroken. “The things I said to you on the phone. The things I almost said. You don’t care about me. You never have,” he finished in an anguished whisper.

  She rushed toward him, but Mason held up his hands in a halt motion, telling her that she’d better stop now. She did. They were standing three feet apart, but it felt like three miles.

  Edie was crying. “Mason, please! I’m sorry! I hated lying to you, but…”

  “But what?” he spat, not able to keep his anger in check.

  “I-I thought I could end it all. I thought going to the sanatorium last night and talking to the other ghosts would help me to get rid of Tristan, once and for all. I did it for us! For us! So we could be together, happy and in peace, knowing that some unseen, malicious force wasn’t spying on us, playing tricks, making our lives miserable. But it’s not only just us. Tristan’s haunting and hurting anyone who he wants. I had to find a way to stop him! Please, Mason. Please forgive me. I’ve learned my lesson. Please!”

  Mason had been looking down, and Edie thought that he’d been considering her plea, but now when he looked up at her, she realized that he’d made up his mind and it wasn’t in her favor. His eyes were cold and hard, once again.

  He finally opened his mouth to speak. “That’s what Rochelle did.”

  He glanced at Quinn, and then he leveled a sharp stare at Edie, with hurt, hazel eyes. His dimples that she loved so much had yet to make an appearance. And Edie feared that they never would.

  Mason continued, “She wanted to get back together. I gave in but it wasn’t the same, and when I’d finally ended it, she begged me for another chance.”

  “This isn’t the same,” Edie said, desperate for him to understand. “I didn’t cheat on you.”

  “But you lied to me.” His voice was soft, heartbroken. “How can I ever trust you again?” He turned and left, nothing more to say.

  Edie wasn’t giving up on him. Quinn and Jules’s pleaded for her to stay, but she took off and chased Mason throughout the hospital. He was moving fast and soon she’d lost him.

  She stopped and spun around in a circle, trying to figure out where he’d gone, but as she scanned her environment, she realized that she was in an unfamiliar part of the hospital; the old part of the hospital. It was still functioning with nurses and patients, but the walls, carpeting, and equipment weren’t as clean and shiny as the new section. She’d chased Mason on the other side of the building and hadn’t even known it. She wouldn’t give up. She’d chase him across the country, the world, the universe, and time, to beg for his forgiveness. She couldn’t lose Mason. She just couldn’t.

  I won’t.

  She set her feet and started walking down the hall toward the stairwell when she noticed that someone was standing in her way. Well, she was already full-steam ahead and didn’t have working breaks, so she didn’t stop and passed right through her obstacle.

  She came to a halt, shocked and cold, and then slowly turned around to face the transparent ghost, who was wearing an old-fashioned, three-piece suit. He was tan with dark, brown hair, cut short and styled neat, and dark, blue eyes, staring into her lighter shade of blues.

  “You can see me?” he asked, excited.

  Slowly, she nodded, having lost her voice. When she recovered, she finally asked, “Who are you?”

  He gave her a sweet smile. “I’m Adrian, Adrian Lockhart.”

  Chapter 22

  “Lockhart?” Edie repeated in disbelief.

  He nodded and approached. Edie took a step back. She wasn’t afraid. He seemed by all appearances, friendly. She was cold, which wasn’t something new, but it was more than her shivering bones that’d made her retreat. It was the knowledge that she was meeting another ghost with the same last name as Tristan. Were they related? Or was it a mere coincidence?

  She didn’t think so. His lapis lazuli eyes, so unique, were the exact color as Tristan’s.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Adrian said, smiling. He took a cautious step forward.

  Edie stayed still, not wanting to seem uncivil. She’d been raised a good little southern girl, manners and all.

  “I’m so glad you can see me,” he continued, and then his face fell, saddened. “You’re not dying, are you?”

  “Well, not that I know of…I mean, I seem healthy, but my granny died of a tumor in her brain that she didn’t know she had so...” She shook her head. “No, I’m fine.” She took a step toward him, despite the chill that he was giving off. “Can you do that? Can you sense when people are about to die?”

  “No,” Adrian said, shaking his head. “I just thought, considering you could see me, that perhaps you were about to pass...” He waved a dismissive and transparent hand in the air. “Ignore me.”

  Edie gave him a smile. “Sorry, but I can’t do that. You’re the second ghost I’ve encountered.” She paused, nervous, and then asked, “Um, Adrian…do you know Tristan Lockhart?”

  Adrian actually gasped, and then retreated, as if she were going to hurt him. “Tristan?” he repeated, barely a whisper. “Is he here with you?”

  “You can’t see him?”

  Adrian shook his head. “What little I know of the spirit world, ghosts can’t see each other. Well, I can’t see other ghosts. How-how...?” He could barely form a coherent sentence.

  Feeling exposed in the hallway, she gestured for them to enter a vacant room and shut the door. Despite the two chairs in the room, they remained standing, their nerves on edge.

  Edie told him about Lockhart Manor and everything else that’d happened since then. She even told him about Russell being possessed. She needed intelligence on why Tristan could possess him and no one else. Adrian had no answer for her on this inquiry. She could tell that he was distraught at the news of how much sorrow and pain Tristan had caused. Adrian hung his head and closed his eyes.

  “How are you two related?” she asked, giving him only a few seconds to process everything.

  Adrian lifted his head and opened his eyes, but he didn’t look at her, staring instead at a vase of dead flowers on the windowsill. “He’s my brother.” Edie wasn’t shocked. In fact, she thought that she’d known all along. He paused, and then said, “I may be dead, but I feel faint. I need to sit.”

  Edie
watched as he walked over to the bed and sat, making a small depression into the mattress. His suit was so clean and pressed.

  “Is that what you were buried in?” she asked, changing the subject to something a little less macabre than his brother’s evil deeds.

  Adrian gave her a small smile. “No. Actually, I don’t know what I was buried in. I died wearing a hospital gown. When I realized I was a ghost, wandering the halls, trying to talk to people who couldn’t hear me, I made the best of it and decided if I were going to be trapped here, I’d look my best.” His lips made a small twitch. “Not too long after I’d died, a relative of mine was brought in suffering from a heart attack. He died in his Sunday clothes.” Adrian tugged on his vest. “After I’d mourned his death, I wished I could wear his garments, to be clothed in such finery, even in death, and…viola! I was wearing his suit.”

  Edie grimaced. “You didn’t literally take his clothes? He wasn’t naked was he?”

  Adrian shook his head and gave her a little smile. “No, he still retained his Sunday best. Although I’m sure later when they prepared his body for burial, the suit was removed,” he added as an afterthought.

  Edie went and sat next to him. She liked Adrian. He didn’t scare her like his twisted brother.

  She appraised his young face. “How old are you? I mean, how old were you when you died?”

  “Twenty,” he replied. “Tristan…Tristan was three years younger than me.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking: how’d you die?”

  Adrian didn’t hesitate. “Tristan killed me.”

  She almost fell off the bed. “What? Why?”

  “Well, I guess it was all about a girl.” His lips twitched into a small smile that gradually became wider, reminiscing. “Her name was Arianna Worthington and I loved her so much. Still do, in fact. I was planning on asking her to marry me.” His smile faded.