Tortured Souls (The Orion Circle)

by Wheaton, Kimber Leigh

  Though the phantom mist puts up a fight, it isn’t long before the unending stream of birds knocks the mask from his spectral grip. It falls to the ground several feet away. Before I can get the message from my brain to my legs to run, Logan snatches the mask from the ground and tears off toward the barn.

  The spectral mist abandons its fight with the crows and descends on Logan. Yardley’s spirit plows into him, sending him skidding toward the barn. I watch in horror as he slides along the ground on his back, losing his grip on the mask when his arm slams into the gravel. It flies through the air, landing just a few feet from me. Yardley’s spirit races toward the mask, but I snatch it up, hugging the foul thing against my chest. Logan rises from the ground, shouting at me to get the mask to the burn barrel.

  After only two or three steps, something grabs my arm, stopping me. Silver mist winds around my body, squeezing the air from my lungs like some ghostly boa constrictor. I fight against it, but my hand passes through the mist. There’s nothing to grab, no way to stop the phantom as the mist tightens around my entire body. The crows swoop around me, but even they realize there’s nothing they can do to stop this ghost from squeezing the life from me.

  Glancing up, I see Logan running toward me. Yardley will not get this mask. He can kill me, but he won’t exist afterward to harm anyone else. Drawing on the last of my strength, I curl my arm toward my body and throw the mask to Logan like a macabre Frisbee. He catches it in one hand, his gaze darting between me and the fire. Go, my mind urges him. After one last look at me, he turns and races toward the burn barrel.

  I fall to my knees, gasping for breath. Black spots dance in my vision until I see more black that anything else. When I suck in a tiny breath, the phantom tightens his hold. It’s a vicious cycle repeated over and over. Tears fill my eyes, spilling over my eyelashes. My hands scrape against the rough gravel as I fall forward. I try to call out to my friends, to anyone, for help. My plea comes out a raspy wheeze as I collapse to my side.

  I lift my head in time to see Logan throw the mask toward the dancing flames. Blue sparks fly and loud crackling pops fill the air as the fire engulfs the demonic relic. The Foxblood Demon roars in fury, and his hold around my neck tightens. Darkness washes over me. I give in to it, floating away to a safer place within myself.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Reflections & Revelations

  My latest brush with death put Gavin into overprotective mode again. It’s been three days since that awful night. I was told I almost died, that Logan saved my life with CPR. My memory is patchy at best, and I think it’s better that way. I remember saying goodbye to Ellie and watching the children move on… but everything after that is foggy. Black feathers, silvery smoke, and pain. Crushing agony. A shudder courses through me, and I shut down that train of thought. Every time I try to remember, it’s the same torment, like my brain is melting or something.

  Sweet Gavin has hovered over me for the last three days, acting like a mother hen. The theater room is just down the hall from my room, maybe twenty or thirty steps. And yet Gavin insists on carrying me like I’m some sort of invalid. Arguing accomplishes nothing so I keep my mouth shut. He places me on the chaise end of the sofa and fusses with my blanket. Rolling my eyes, I allow him to tuck the blanket around my legs. I have no intention of rocking the boat in any way.

  It’s been two days since I last saw Logan. I was in and out of consciousness—I remember him holding me in his arms but that’s it. I know Gavin snuck him into my room against doctor’s orders. That alone is reason to put up with my brother’s hovering.

  “You comfortable?” Gavin asks in a muted tone.

  “Gavin, I’m fine,” I reply with a bright smile. “Really. I promise,” I add when he stares at me with a raised brow.

  Kodiak jumps up on the sofa and settles at my side as Gavin leaves the room. My faithful Goldendoodle hasn’t left my side for more than a few minutes since I returned from the hospital Sunday morning. That includes trips to the bathroom. Between him and Gavin I’m beginning to feel stifled. Kodiak’s behavior doesn’t help my case with Dad or Gavin either. They assume the dog is overprotective because he can sense something they can’t.

  Dr. Hayes explained in detail what happened to both Dad and Gavin, but not to me. I haven’t seen anyone from the Circle since I regained consciousness yesterday—doctor’s orders. This afternoon, everyone is coming here for a meeting. So many questions are circling my mind like hungry vultures.

  Kodiak lifts his head a bit, and his tail thumps against my leg. Moments later Logan enters the room with a relieved smile on his face. He flops down on the sofa beside me as Kodiak wiggles out of the way. His arms wrap around me, pulling me against his chest. The hungry look in his eyes makes my stomach flutter. He captures my mouth with his, parting my lips with a gentle sweep of his tongue. I throw my arms around his neck, burying my fingers in his wavy hair.

  “God, you scared me, Kacie,” he murmurs against my lips. “I’ve been so worried.”

  “I’m fine,” I reply, leaning my forehead against his. “Thanks to you I hear.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he says as he pulls away to gaze at me with serious eyes. “I knew you were fighting Yardley’s possession, and I left you to do it alone.”

  “You kn-knew?” My voice catches in my throat. His words bring a sliver of memory to the surface, but it dances away before I can remember anything.

  He nods. I stare at him while trying to process this new information. Tears burn at my eyes, but I refuse to break eye contact.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “You know the answer,” he replies with a sad smile.

  It suddenly hits me. “You had to destroy the mask.”

  “It just about killed me to leave you like that,” he whispers between kisses along my cheekbone. “I had no way of knowing if the mask was the right object. His spirit was so strong. I kept picturing the others he tried to possess…”

  “You did the right thing, Logan.” I pull him into another kiss—slow, tender, and sweet.

  “I have something for you,” he says, brushing the hair from my forehead. “Close your eyes, I didn’t have time to wrap it.”

  “You didn’t have to get my anything.”

  “Just close your eyes already,” Logan says, putting his hand over my eyes.

  Grabbing his hand, I push it away playfully. Kodiak thinks we’re playing a game, and he jumps to his feet. The dog sticks his face between us before giving Logan a big lick on the nose. I try to keep my laughter at Logan’s shocked expression in, which turns out to be a very bad idea. My unladylike snort makes Logan double over with laughter.

  I push at him, knocking him over on his back. Before he can move, I pounce, pinning him to the sofa. His lips beckon me, and I close the small gap between us. A warm, fluttering feeling starts in my stomach, spreading like flames through my limbs. I tilt my head to deepen the kiss, and he responds with a deep moan. He cups my face in his hands as his tongue tangles with mine. When he pulls away, I whimper.

  “Don’t you want your present?” he asks with a lopsided grin.

  I nod. His fingers brush a caress along my cheek before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black velvet bag. I dump the contents into my hand, gazing in awe at the beautiful silver medallion. On one side there’s an image of an angel etched into the silver. The other side features an image of a crow.

  “Michael the Archangel,” he says, pointing to the angel side. “I also brought a card with the prayer for you to memorize. It could help in the future if any other spirit tries to possess you.”

  “What about the crow?” I ask as he clasps the medallion around my neck.

  “Hmm, you haven’t looked outside recently have you,” he remarks, pulling me from the sofa. “Come on.”

  He leads me to the next room and to the window overlooking the canyon on the side of the house. Dozens of crows sit in the trees watching the house.

&
nbsp; “It’s not uncommon for a witch to have a familiar,” Logan says as we head back to the theater room. “It seems you have not just one crow but a whole murder of them.”

  “Can we just call them a flock?” I mutter, exasperated by his word choice.

  “Well yeah, but that kinda takes all the fun out of it,” he jokes, nuzzling my neck with his nose.

  “So I really am a witch?” I ask, though I already know the answer. “I don’t know the first thing about being a witch.”

  My fingers play with the silver bracelet on my left wrist. It comes off now, meaning the danger has passed, but I feel wrong without it, like something’s missing.

  “Don’t worry, you have a great teacher,” Logan says, lacing his fingers with mine. “We postponed the coven meeting until tomorrow night. Mom already okayed everything with your dad. She’s really looking forward to teaching you everything about our history, and also looking into yours as well.”

  “You postponed the Samhain coven gathering just for me?” I ask, a bit awed that Mrs. Finley would do that.

  “Everyone is looking forward to meeting you and Raven,” Logan says, kissing the back of my hand. “After what you’ve been through, one day won’t make any difference. It’s not like we were planning any spells or rites. Some of those need to be performed on certain days.”

  “It’s all so confusing,” I murmur, leaning into his shoulder. “I can’t wait to learn everything!”

  “Ow,” Logan hisses through gritted teeth. He shifts my head to lean on his chest rather than his shoulder.

  “You’re hurt!” I exclaim. When I try to sit up to inspect him, his arms tighten around me holding me captive.

  “I’m fine,” he says, stroking my hair. “Just lots of road rash. My right shoulder got the worst of it. Stop squirming,” he orders when I try to pull away. “It’s still bandaged so you can’t see it.”

  Voices echo from down the hallway as our guests begin to arrive. Kodiak joins the voices with his joyful barks. Daniel is the first through the door.

  “Hey, Cici,” Daniel says, giving me a one-armed hug. “Good to see you conscious. Did you know you have crows lining the railing on your porch?”

  “And in the trees and on the cars in the drive,” Raven adds, hugging my other side. I can feel her shaking with laughter.

  “What are the neighbors going to think?” I ask, closing my eyes and sighing.

  “Some crow outside just attacked me!” Carl screeches as he enters the room.

  “What did you do to it?” Rebecca demands, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

  “Why do you assume I did something?” Carl asks, his face a mask of mock innocence.

  “Because everybody else managed to make it inside without a bird attacking!” Rebecca yells back.

  “I might’ve called it ugly and maybe stupid,” Carl says, shrugging his shoulders. “But last time I checked birds don’t speak English!”

  “Carl, these crows are Kacie’s familiars,” Logan says, biting his lip to keep from laughing. “The bird sensed your hostility.”

  “God, I’m queen of the crows,” I say with a deep sigh.

  “I’m sorry I insulted your bird, Kacie,” Carl says looking rather contrite.

  “It’s okay, Carl,” I reply.

  “No it isn’t,” Rebecca insists, dragging Carl away to berate him some more.

  “That’s a match made in heaven,” Daniel says, watching them continue to argue across the room.

  “You got your afterlife destinations mixed up,” Raven comments. “Hell is more appropriate.”

  “All right, everyone, quiet down,” Mr. Kincaid says as he enters the room with Mrs. Kincaid at his side. “Kacie’s dad needs to know what types of pizza to order.”

  Shouts fill the room, and more arguments break out over topping choices. Kodiak thinks it’s a fun, new game. He races from one person to the next, adding his barks to the excited shouting.

  “Enough!” Dr. Hayes shouts into the deafening din with an extra dose of her compulsion spell. The room falls silent. “Not another word or every pizza will be anchovy and pineapple.”

  “You aren’t pregnant are you, dear?” Mrs. Kincaid asks, her eyes wide. “Strange cravings and all…”

  “What? N-no of course not,” Dr. Hayes sputters while shaking her head. “I just picked what I thought was the most vile.”

  “If you say so, dear,” Mrs. Kincaid says with a knowing smile.

  “I’m NOT pregnant!” Dr. Hayes yells just as Dad enters the room.

  “Good to know, Tammy,” he says, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

  A broad smile lights his face. As much as I hate the idea of another mother, it is nice to see him so happy. Perhaps it’s too early to worry about that. They’ve only been together for two weeks. And yet the way they gaze into each other’s eyes makes them look like two love-struck kids.

  “I’ll order an assortment,” Dad says without breaking eye contact with Dr. Hayes. “No anchovy and pineapple, though. Sorry.” He ducks out the door before she can respond to his comment.

  “All right, settle down,” Mr. Kincaid says, herding everyone to the folding chairs scattered around the room. “Take your seats. Let’s get this meeting over with so we can celebrate. Michelle, your report on Sue and Frank Anders.”

  “They’ve been charged with eight felony counts including fraud, attempted kidnapping, and drugging a minor,” Michelle says with a wicked grin. “They were arraigned last Thursday and will stand trial. Currently they’re out on bail but still under house arrest due to the severity of the crime and fear of potential retaliation.” I cringe a bit, and Logan pulls me closer to his side, draping his arm over my shoulder. “Their business license has been revoked. The assistant DA will be in touch with us shortly to take statements and decide who will be used as witnesses in the criminal trial.”

  “Remember this is strictly non-supernatural. No mention of anything paranormal other than our investigation of the house for a potential haunting,” Dr. Hayes says. She makes eye contact with everyone in the room before continuing. “Let’s keep our ‘abilities’ quiet. They aren’t relevant to the DA’s case and have the potential to hurt it. The last thing we need is the defense using our abilities against us.”

  “What about their source for the witch’s bane?” Mr. Kincaid asks.

  “Mrs. Anders won’t talk, says they’ll kill her,” Devon replies. “It looks like we may have a new player in the San Antonio paranormal underworld. Signs show it may be a vampire.”

  “We’ll need to tread lightly with this investigation,” Mr. Kincaid says, not bothering to hide his worried expression. “Vampires are not something to mess with.”

  “I volunteer,” Raven says, raising her hand. “I have lots of experience vampire hunting. Dad moved us here because he thought the coven that killed my mother fled here when we had them on the run. I have some connections in the vampire community.”

  “Not alone, Raven,” Mr. Kincaid says in a stern tone. “We have a new member, Blake, arriving next week. He’s a werewolf and will be very helpful in a hunt for vampires.”

  “I don’t care if werewolves are good against vamps,” Raven bites out. “I’d rather not work with one. I’ve had a, uh… bad experience with a werewolf in the past.”

  “I’m sorry, Raven,” Mr. Kincaid says. “But we don’t allow personal prejudice to get in the way of our ability to hunt. You know that full well. Besides, Blake might be your only defense if the vampires turn on you.”

  “You’re right, sir,” Raven says, hanging her head. “I’m sorry. I’ll be happy to work with our new recruit.”

  Though her voice sounds contrite, I notice the hard gleam in her eyes. Whoever this new werewolf is, I pity him. Raven is not one I’d want as an enemy.

  “I have good news regarding Bob Carter,” Dr. Hayes says, looking up from her iPad. “Just got word from the hospital. He’s been officially upgra
ded from critical to stable, and they’ve completed the move from ICU to a regular room. I’ve diagnosed a stroke, although we all know it was a minor possession. The damage to the brain is consistent with a major stroke.”

  “Will he recover?” I ask, remembering the bizarre state he was in at the shelter.

  “We won’t be able to ascertain the extent of damage for quite some time,” Dr. Hayes says, shaking her head. “He may never regain memories or function as an adult again.”

  “That’s so sad,” I reply, burying my fingers in Kodiak’s fur when he jumps up beside me. “How could Yardley do that to his own son?”

  “You can’t psychoanalyze a psycho,” Daniel says with a snort of disgust.

  “I’ve been reading his journals,” Mrs. Kincaid says shaking her head. “I understand the importance of thirteen in some rituals, but he took it to the extreme. The ritual he laid out was so diabolical and complicated. Thirteen children aged one to thirteen kidnapped on each of the thirteen days prior to Halloween. The night of their kidnapping, each child had one rib removed in a dark ceremony.”

  She pauses, falling into Mr. Kincaid’s arms. He wraps his arms around her and coos softly for several minutes. After blowing her nose and wiping her eyes on a tissue, she continues the horrible tale.

  “He thought this macabre necklace would grant him immortality,” she says with a sad sigh. “Even Halloween was important because not only is the thirty-first an inversion of thirteen, but the veil between the spirit plane and the living realm is the thinnest. He’d been planning this for several years and chose 1969 because of the multiples of the number three. He was truly demonic in every sense of the word, except he wasn’t possessed. What he did to those children… well, Yardley was one sick bastard. He loved every minute of it. When the police began their standoff on October thirtieth, Yardley used the rib necklace to trap the children’s souls to him and our plane.”

  “For a while anyway, I suppose he was somewhat immortal,” Mr. Kincaid says while stroking his wife’s hair.