Tortured Souls (The Orion Circle)

by Wheaton, Kimber Leigh

  “Can I give you a ride home?” Logan asks when I look up from my phone.

  He’s still seated on the sofa next to me, a solid rock at my side throughout the afternoon and evening. If possible I’m even more attracted to him now than before.

  “That would be great, thanks,” I reply, feeling shy and a touch nervous.

  He rises from the sofa and extends his hand to help me up. I take his hand and allow him to pull me from my seat. Logan pulls a bit harder than I was expecting, causing me to stumble and fall into his outstretched arms. My cheeks redden and I jump away as if burned, though I immediately regret my actions. Daniel, having witnessed the whole embarrassing incident, struts over.

  “Smooth moves, Romeo,” he says snickering.

  Logan runs a hand through his golden-brown curls and flashes a sheepish grin. My ire rises and I fail to keep my big mouth shut.

  “Bite me,” I growl at the pompous ass.

  “Thought you’d never ask, kitten,” Daniel purrs, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

  “Oh, please,” I mutter as I shrug his arm off my shoulder and push him away.

  A smirk curls my lip at Daniel’s shocked expression. I guess he’s not used to being shot down. Logan snickers before he grabs my backpack and winds the strap over my shoulder.

  “We should head out while there’s a lull in the rain,” he says. His gaze drifts from the windows back to me.

  I nod my head and follow him without sparing a glance for Daniel. As we pass through the door, several people shout goodbyes which we both return before allowing the door to close behind us. After bounding down the three flights of stairs, I’m dismayed when the shower of water picks up again just as we open the door leading outside.

  We walk through the darkened campus, sticking close to the building to avoid the downpour. When we reach the side facing the parking lot, we pause for a moment and watch the rain fall. It’s almost empty, only a few cars remain. Fat raindrops are reflected in the lights illuminating the parking lot, creating a beautiful, glittery wonderland. Who knew a vast expanse of blacktop bathed in yellow-orange light could be so enchanting?

  “Do you want to wait and see if the rain slows or make a dash for the car?” Logan asks, gazing down at me in the dim light.

  “A little rain never hurt anyone. Lead on,” I say, a bit breathless. He gives me a bright grin that makes my heart flutter. “I am a Pisces after all. I believe that makes me one with the water,” I add, averting my gaze in a desperate attempt to stop the flush spreading across my cheeks.

  He takes my hand, making my heart race even faster, and we dash across the parking lot toward his car. The raindrops splattering against my face are cool but not cold, making me feel energized. I’ve always been partial to the rain. So many view the rain as a spoiler of, well, everything. But to me rain is fresh. It washes away the accumulation of grime, wiping the slate clean, renewing and giving life. Normally I watch the rain from the shelter of our covered deck, but every once in a while I enjoy a long walk with the drops falling on my face. It leaves me feeling calm and refreshed.

  When we reach Logan’s car, I stop in surprise. Water drips from my damp bangs, and I brush them aside to stare at the beauty before me. With a wistful sigh of appreciation, I run my fingers down the side in a light caress. This is one gorgeous car. The Mustang is black, but not just any black, there’s glitter in the paint that makes it glow in the floodlights brightening the parking lot. It has been detailed with several chrome accents. Red racing stripes run across the hood to continue over the roof and end at the rear spoiler.

  “Logan, it’s beautiful,” I gasp in a soft whisper.

  Okay, I admit it, I have a thing for cars, and this is one fine automobile. Rain all but forgotten, I circle around the car wondering how he managed to nab such a sweet ride.

  “Would you like to get in out of the rain? The inside is pretty nice too,” he comments with a crooked smile while hitting the button to unlock the doors.

  I open the door and dive inside to escape a sudden gust of wind. It roars through the empty parking lot, blowing the rain almost horizontal. Once both doors are shut, we stare out the windshield at the impressive storm.

  “Guess we made it just in time,” Logan remarks as raindrops pelt the car from all sides. “Probably shouldn’t drive in this downpour, my Dad would kill me.”

  We both take a moment to text our families to let them know we’re still at school waiting for a break in the storm to leave. Sitting in companionable silence, we watch the fury of nature as she unleashes an amazing show of water, wind, and lightning. The lightning is close enough to light up our surroundings as if the sun was making a quick appearance through the black clouds.

  “I’m so glad we have four rubber tires protecting us from the lightning,” I murmur after another loud boom of thunder follows the flash of lightning too close for comfort.

  When I glance at Logan, he’s smiling—that smile Gavin uses when I say something cute and incorrect.

  “What?” I ask ready for a lecture though I’m not upset, I love to learn new things.

  “It’s simple physics really. It is safer to be in a car than out in the open but not because of the tires,” Logan says, eyeing me for my reaction. When I grin at him and nod he continues. “The vehicle acts as a Faraday cage—the lighting will travel along the metal of the car before traveling into the ground through the tires which keeps the occupants protected. If you’re touching anything in the car connected to the outside metal cage you could still be electrocuted.”

  With a shudder, I move from leaning on the door to leaning on the leather armrest between the seats. This puts me very close to Logan who’s also leaning against it.

  “This effect doesn’t work in a convertible or a car made of fiberglass, so no hopping into a Corvette during a thunderstorm.”

  “I thought rubber didn’t conduct electricity,” I say, a bit confused by what I always thought to be fact.

  “Rubber is an insulator and doesn’t conduct electricity, but lightning is so powerful that rubber tires aren’t going to protect you,” he murmurs.

  With every lightning strike I flinch a bit, glad when the time between flash and thunder begins to increase.

  “Will Friday night work for you?” At my blank expression he adds, “To check out the inn in the Queen Anne District. We could get dinner first along the River Walk if you’d like.”

  “Sounds good,” I reply, feeling a bit giddy.

  Can I consider this a date? No doubt Celia would since we’re having dinner together. Ghost hunting seems a bit odd for a first date. But what about my life has ever been normal? I don’t think most girls have to put up a barrier to keep from seeing dead people on a regular basis. Nor do they have to politely ask the spirits living in their house to move on to the next plane of existence. The idea of a ghost watching my private moments is disconcerting to say the least. I don’t know if I could shower in peace in a haunted house due to past experience.

  “You’re awfully quiet, what are you thinking about?” Logan asks, brushing my arm with his in a gentle nudge. The brief contact sends shivers down my arms.

  “We moved into our house in Cedar Bluffs when I was eleven,” I murmur, becoming lost in the memory. “It was already inhabited by a cowboy and several soldiers from Santa Anna’s army. They were all tied to the land the house was built on. I had to learn enough Spanish to send the Mexican soldiers to the next plane. Believe it or not that was the easy part. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the Mexican soldiers were protecting me from the cowboy. Once they were gone, things got very bad. The cowboy refused to leave and didn’t bother to hide his obsession any longer.”

  I lean my head against Logan’s shoulder when he places his arm around me, the comfort giving me the courage to continue.

  “I guess back in his day eleven was an acceptable age to marry, though the idea of marrying so young really grosses me out,” I say with a
dry laugh devoid of any humor.

  My body trembles as the memories resurface, unpleasant reminders of something I’d prefer to leave dead and buried. But Logan is the first person I’ve met who can understand the trauma I endured. I know I’ll feel better if I share with him. His fingers rub small circles on my back. Closing my eyes, I focus on the tingles caused by his touch.

  “It’ll be okay, Kacie,” he murmurs just inches from my ear. “You can trust me. You’ll probably feel better once you share your story,” he adds, echoing my earlier thought.

  “He’d watch me bathe,” I admit with another shudder. “I could always feel his eyes on me even though he didn’t manifest. After a while he became bolder.”

  Logan’s arms encircle my body, pulling me into a hug. I wrap my arms around him, clutching his t-shirt with my fingers. He doesn’t rush me, just waits in silence. Drawing strength from his silent show of support, I’m able to continue.

  “He started touching me while I was sleeping. It made me feel so violated and scared. I had no one to talk to, no one to help or even believe my story.”

  “God, Kacie, I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss on the top of my head. “I can’t even imagine what you must have felt.”

  The steady beat of raindrops pelting the car echoes through the quiet interior. Outside the fierce storm begins to die down, but Logan makes no move to leave. He brushes his fingers through my damp hair, distracting me from the unpleasant memories.

  “What happened?” he asks, breaking the lingering silence. “You did get rid of him, right?”

  “I found a Comanche tribal elder on the internet. He came out and did a smudging with sage,” I reply in a flat voice. “It didn’t work. The cowboy was a powerful spirit and totally obsessed—a bad combination. The elder returned with reinforcements—six additional elders from several different tribes, and they were finally able to force him to cross to the next plane. But they did warn me that it can be difficult to banish evil permanently. There’s always a possibility he’ll return. But he hasn’t in four years, so here’s hoping he’s gone for good,” I say with a weak smile, looking back up to meet his eyes.

  His expression is soft, turning my insides to mush. My cell phone rings, breaking the mood, and reminding me once again why I’m starting to despise the damned thing. A quick glance down shows it to be Dad so I can’t just ignore it. I assure him we’re on our way, and I’ll be home in fifteen minutes or so.

  “Guess we better head out then,” Logan says, starting the car. The engine comes alive with a throaty roar that vibrates through the interior.

  Chapter Seven

  Mother

  Buckling my seatbelt, I lean back against the soft leather seat and try to relax. As Logan maneuvers down rain slick streets, my mind races with the new discoveries of the day. It’s hard to believe that in one day my life could undergo such a drastic change. I’ve felt alone with my ability for so long, it’s nice to finally have people who understand. Rain splatters the windshield, the steady rhythm of the wiper blades soothing—kind of like a metronome lulling my heart into a steady beat. When he pulls up to the gate of Cedar Bluffs, I snap awake. My nerves resurface and I drum on my leg with my fingers.

  “When did you move to Cedar Bluffs?” I ask, wondering how I managed to miss seeing him around the neighborhood for four years.

  “We moved here from the condos down the street right before school started,” he explains as we pass through the gate. “Mom is pregnant and we needed more room than the two bedroom condo could provide.”

  “Where’s your house?”

  “Rolling Glen, at the back of the neighborhood,” he replies. “It’s one of the newest houses,” he adds as he drives down the dark street. Our community has few streetlamps making the streets pitch-black at night. “My house was devoid of ghosts when we moved in. I was somewhat surprised since the previous owner died on the property.”

  “Was it a violent death?” I ask though I’m sure gossip would run rampant if that were the case.

  “She died of lung cancer, but I don’t know how long she lasted or how much pain she was in,” he says as he turns onto my street.

  When we reach my house, the headlights reveal two cars parked in the driveway, both Dad and Gavin are home. Logan pulls up alongside the curb and stops the car. Someone remembered to turn the outside light on. Our house faces a canyon on two sides and there’s no streetlight at our end of the street. When the outside lights aren’t on, the property is blanketed in darkness. By the time I grab my backpack and open the door, Logan is already out and on my side of the car holding the door open. He walks with me to the front door, and I decide it’s only fair to warn him of what may be lying in wait.

  “You may want to reconsider walking me to the door,” I murmur, glancing at the windows on either side of the door to see if any shadows are lurking within. “You may get stuck meeting my brother or worse my dad.”

  “I think I can handle your brother and your dad,” he says chuckling. “I’ll just tell them I’m a psychic medium. I’m sure they’ll love that.” I know he’s joking but part of me still cringes at the potential scene it would create. “You know most abilities run in families. If you thought your mom saw the ghost you were talking to, I’m guessing she’s clairvoyant… whether she wants to admit it or not.”

  It’s something I’ve considered more than once in the past. Deep down I know it’s probably true. It just hurts so much. He doesn’t say anything else as we reach the porch. I dig my key out of the front pouch of my backpack. When I look back up he reaches out, running a light caress across my cheek with the back of his fingers.

  “Thank you for everything, Logan. I’ve felt lost and alone for so long.”

  I can’t seem to look away from his mesmerizing eyes like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. He takes a small step forward. His hand moves from my face to my hair then down to rest against the nape of my neck.

  “You have beautiful eyes,” he says in a husky murmur. “Green with little flecks of gold. I’ve never seen anything like them before.”

  My breath catches in my throat as my gaze moves to his full lips, willing him to lean down and kiss me. When he’s only inches away, loud footsteps sound from inside the house. Logan groans before stepping away to a more respectable distance. The door flies open, banging against the wall with a jarring thud. It’s Gavin, not Dad, and I blow out the breath I’d been holding.

  “I heard the car arrive,” Gavin says, meeting my eyes with a silent apology. “There’s a phone call for you, Kacie. It’s our mother.”

  I stiffen at his words. She hasn’t spoken to me in six years. Not one single word. Ever. What could she possibly have to say now?

  “Be strong,” Logan whispers in my ear. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Otherwise I’ll see you tomorrow.” He starts walking toward his car, and I race over to him.

  “Can I have a ride to school in the morning?” I ask, remembering Dave can’t drive me tomorrow.

  “Sure, I’ll pick you up at eight,” he replies, glancing at me over his shoulder.

  He gets into his Mustang, and I release a heavy sigh, knowing I have to deal with the phone call now. Has she been waiting this whole time? Strange. Holding my head up, I steel my shoulders and stroll into the kitchen to grab the phone.

  “Hello?” I say into the receiver, hoping she hung up since it took so long.

  “Kassandra, it’s good to talk to you,” she says in a saccharin tone making me gag a little. “How have you been?”

  “Is this a sick joke?” I ask, unable to believe her gall.

  The woman can’t even bring herself to call me Kacie like she did before she left. She doesn’t speak to me in years and suddenly calls out of the blue and asks how I’ve been.

  Unbelievable!

  “What do you mean, baby?” she asks.

  How dare she call me baby!

  “I’m not your baby,” I snarl thro
ugh gritted teeth. “What do you want?” There’s a long silence on the other end.

  “I’ve been having disturbing visions of your future,” she says in a theatrical murmur. “I wanted to warn you and to make sure you were okay.”

  “Wait a minute,” I gasp in shock. “You’re having visions? You’re psychic and never told me?”

  “It’s not something I like people to know about me,” she replies in a dismissive tone.

  “You abandoned me, left Dad thinking I was a liar or insane for seeing spirits and having visions!” My voice is high and cracks with emotion. “How could you do that to me and then call one day like nothing happened, only to tell me you’re clairvoyant too?”

  Dad sits at the table, his mouth hanging open in shock at my words, while Gavin stares wide-eyed from the counter.

  “I admit I’ve made some mistakes…”

  I wait for her to continue, to apologize, to beg my forgiveness. She remains silent, waiting for me to say God knows what.

  “Mistakes? Sure, we all make mistakes. Leaving my homework at home, forgetting to set my alarm, letting my friend cut my hair… those are mistakes.” My tirade tapers off as I’m overcome with emotion. Somehow I manage to continue through the hard lump in my throat. “Abandoning your child is criminal, not some simple mistake. It was a choice you made to protect yourself. Well screw you and your ridiculous visions. I’m fine without your concern, thank you!”

  I end the call and slam the phone down on the table. Tears stream from my eyes blurring my vision. I race away from my family to the solace of my room. Six years. She left six years ago and hasn’t spoken a word to me since. Why now? Why today? Throwing myself down on the bed, I allow the tears to fall, uncaring as they soak my pillow. The phone rings again, and I know it’s her. It doesn’t take any psychic power to know. Neither Dad nor Gavin call me to the phone, and I choke out a beleaguered sigh.

  When the doorbell rings I almost scream in frustration. Was she calling from a cell? Did she fly here from Arizona? Please don’t let it be her at the front door. I pass several nerve-wracking moments waiting to see if someone will call for me. Relief floods me when it doesn’t happen. A light knock on my door has the fear rushing back full force.