Haunting Me (An Angel Falls Book 3)

by Jody A. Kessler

  “He can,” I defend.

  Marcus rubs his chin and eyes me speculatively. “I see we’re at odds. Nathaniel is having difficulty and that’s all I’ll say about it for now. I’m not the bad guy you think I am.”

  Spinning around, I resume my pacing. Nathaniel saved Jared’s life twice because of me. His actions have created a huge rift between him and his mentor. It’s my fault and I’m not sure how to fix it, or if it can be fixed.

  “I’d like to have a clearer understandin’ of what was in this house earlier, Jules. Don’t get any foolish ideas while I’m away. I’ll be right at Jared’s side if he needs me.”

  I stop wearing a track in the floor and look up at him. “I’m going to make my brother well,” I state clearly. “If you think I’m being foolish, so be it. If you or Harmony would fill me in with what the hell is haunting me, I would greatly appreciate it.”

  Marcus dips his head in a tiny bow, then vanishes. My shoulders sag, and I close my eyes as a wave of exhaustion overtakes me. I force the fatigue to the far recesses because there’s still more to do. Pausing outside the bathroom door, I listen for any sounds, but it’s completely silent.

  “J, are you doing all right?”

  When he doesn’t answer, I knock on the door. He doesn’t respond.

  “If you don’t say something, I’m coming in,” I warn.

  Sudden panic makes me turn the knob without waiting. The first thing I see is Jared’s head under the water.

  I burst forward. “What! No!”

  It’s too late of course. I overreact before I can stop myself. The stress and lack of sleep catch up with me at last. I trip on the bathroom rug as Jared rises up out of the water. My body does something quite peculiar that I can’t totally explain. One part of me is overwhelmingly relieved Jared isn’t drowning and another part of me is trying to save myself from severe injury as I crash to the floor. Both responses make my heart leap inside my chest and cause my limbs to become useless.

  My body tips toward the bathroom counter and my forearm catches on the edge of the countertop. Pain zings through my arm as my knee smashes into the cabinet below the sink.

  Jared looks at me with sunken, red-rimmed eyes. “Get out,” he groans. I see him reaching to close the curtain.

  As I attempt to shake it off and right myself, my own self-perpetuating humiliation isn’t over. My foot is still caught on the rug and as I try to stand, I fall again. This time my already aching arm slips across the countertop and my hand practically punches the innocent blow dryer.

  It’s a slow-motion horror show as the blasted dryer shoots out from under my hand, careens across the countertop, hits the toilet, and keeps going. I land on the sink with a grunt while reaching for the snaking cord, but my reflexes are slower than snot. The blow dryer spins off the top of the tank, seemingly propelled by some magical force, and slips between the curtain and the wall and into the tub with a splash.

  Jared has the curtain closed by now and doesn’t see the blow dryer coming straight for him. Somehow I have involuntarily and freakishly put upon my own brother an electrical death sentence. An image of my future flashes in my mind. I’m going to be the girl who electrocuted her brother. It’s unbelievable, and yet I see it clearly.

  A sound like a gagging wretch erupts from my throat as I fall and scream simultaneously.

  I hear Jared say, “Bloody brilliant, Jules,” as I moan in agony on the floor next to the toilet.

  The shower curtain rustles and slides open a few inches and the water logged blow dryer plunks down next to my head.

  Jared leans out over me, mild interest mixed with annoyance plastered across his flushed face. “You tryin’ to kill me or something?”

  “Urrggg,” I groan as water drips on me.

  “Yeah. My sentiments exactly,” he says as he disappears behind the curtain.

  Pushing myself up, I grab the effing dryer, wondering why Jared isn’t dead. I groan again, this time from astonished disbelief. “Holy crap. It wasn’t even plugged in.”

  “Seriously, Jules. Even if it was plugged in, there are safety switches built in so asshats can’t electrocute themselves.”

  Stunned, I sit there for an undetermined amount of time digesting this little revelation. Then, like a percolating of awareness, I wonder how bad the bruises on my arm, shoulder, and hip are going to be, what with falling not only onto the counter but also the toilet and the floor. And, I realize Jared sounds more alert and his face looked ruddier than before the bath. His voice is hoarse, and I can tell his energy is drained, but I think his fever has broken.

  “I’m getting out so would you leave already?” he finally says.

  “Yeah,” I mumble. “You sweating yet?”

  “Yep. Your crazy cure may be helping.”

  I limp out of the bathroom, take one look at my bedroom door, shudder, and turn to go down the stairs only stopping when I make it to the couch. Lying down becomes an instant necessity.

  “Nathaniel Evans,” I whisper into the cushions. “I need you. I don’t deserve you, but please come.” And then I fall into a heavy dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Twelve: Innocence

  Juliana

  The smell and the sounds don’t compute. Turning over takes a little effort from all the sore muscles, but I manage, and then bury my nose between the couch cushion and the pillow. Unfortunately, I can’t turn off my ears. I silently plead for the people in the house to shut up. More sleep would be welcome like ice water in Hades.

  “I believe she must have brought it into the house with her,” I hear a male voice say.

  “Do you think it was intentional?” my grandmother asks. Her honey sweet voice is unmistakable.

  “But what could it be?” Mom whispers.

  They’re in the kitchen and it’s hard to hear everything. I flop over onto my back. The smell of cooking food rushes into my nose and makes my mouth water. I snort and cough as another smell sticks to the back of my throat. Burning sage and sweet grass mixed with something else like sweet metal. It’s the odd scent that clings inside my nose and throat. The mixture overwhelms the senses and I cough again. I push myself up and throw off the blanket someone had thoughtfully placed over me. For a moment, I wonder if I’m getting Jared’s flu. My body feels stiff and my head is foggy. I stubbornly decide I’m not getting sick. I shouldn’t have slept on the couch and I definitely didn’t get enough sleep.

  Wandering into the kitchen, barefoot, and in my pajamas, I’m shocked to see Chris Abeyta sitting at the table with my mom and grandma. I wish I could say I was past caring about what I look like, but when I see Chris watching me, I can’t help but be a little self-conscious. I cross my arms over my chest, making a not-so-subtle move to hide my lack of a bra beneath my snug fitting tank top.

  “Hey,” I say, mostly directed at Chris.

  “Why were you sleeping on the couch, sweetie?” Mom asks.

  There’s a smudge pot burning in the center of the table. The thin stream of smoke rising into the air would explain some of the smells. I look at their three coffee mugs and over to the stove for the tea kettle. I walk over to get some. If I could answer coherently — without the sleepy brain fog — I’m not sure I would. What has already been said before I woke up? Has Chris been sharing anything about my life over the last few weeks? He’s in the know more than any of my family, except Jared. I bite my lip and lift the kettle to see if there’s any more hot water. It’s about half full and steaming.

  “How’s Jared?” I ask temporarily ignoring my mother’s question.

  “He can’t keep food down and he’s asleep,” Mom says.

  “Are you going to take him to see a doctor?” I ask.

  “We’ve done all we can do. He needs a lot of rest,” Grandma says.

  “I’m monitoring him at home for now,” Mom says. “It looks like the flu.”

  “Hmm,” I say. I have to trust my mom and grandma know what’s best for Jared, even though they don’t know about Marcus. I f
ind a teabag and a cup and hope the tea will revive my brain to at least one level above zombie.

  “We’re concerned about you, and what happened in your room,” Mom says. She’s starting to sound less worried and more impatient.

  “Umm,” I stall. “Can I wake up for a minute?” I ask. This is going to be difficult and I don’t need the third degree when I can’t think clearly.

  Mom frowns at me. Chris raises his mug and takes a drink, sets it back down and rises from his seat.

  “I have much to do, starting outside. When you’re ready to talk, someone come get me.”

  Chris leaves the kitchen and I hear the front door open and close.

  “How long has he been here?”

  “Not long. I called him, Julie. He was eager to help,” Grandma says.

  I have a pretty good idea why Chris would be willing to come over. He’s been helping me understand the extent of my paranormal abilities and he’s the only one who understands everything that has been happening to me this summer. He’s also a skilled shaman and ghost hunter.

  “Are you going to tell us what happened in your bedroom, or not?” Mom says. “This is really starting to worry me. And where did the old clock show up from? I thought your dad got rid of that thing. It never has worked right.”

  I swirl the teabag around in the water with my spoon and take the first sip. Mom looks as tired as I feel. She’s also waiting expectantly.

  “Jared brought the clock in from the shed. I think he likes it,” I say, answering the easy part first. “And, believe me, I’m already weirded out enough for both of us. I slept on the couch because I’m too scared to go into my room.”

  I hate being forced to talk about it. What if they don’t believe me?

  “You’re confirming all my suspicions, Julie. Your room is not right with the spirit world. We’ll work together on this, but you have to tell us everything.”

  “I have nothing else to tell you,” I say defensively. “I don’t know why this is happening.”

  The look Mom gives me says she doesn’t fully trust me. I drink the tea and hide behind my cup.

  “We need to get Chris. He has questions and he says he can help.”

  “Grandma, do you think it’s safe to go into my room for clothes?” I ask.

  “I think so. I was in there earlier trying to figure out where the darkness was coming from. I repotted your poor plants while you were asleep. Most of them should survive.”

  I try to smile at her, but it feels forced. “Thanks,” I say, and head upstairs.

  When I enter, I do a double take. Is this even my room? It looks like it, but it feels like a foreigner’s room. Most of my clothes and the contents of the fallen boxes are scattered across the floor. Everything on top of my trunk has been disturbed. The lamp is knocked over and the stereo is askew. My CDs and candles are strewn across everything. A knot of anxiety wedges itself neatly into the base of my throat. Even with the daylight streaming in my window, I feel extremely uneasy. As I grab something to wear, I force myself to remember that Harmony removed the demons. With clothes in hand, I scurry out of the room like a scaredy-cat.

  Jared is barfing in the bathroom again, so I duck into mom’s room to change. I don’t look for Marcus. He’s either here somewhere, or he’s not. It makes little difference. I’m going to help Jared no matter what Marcus says. After changing out of my pajamas, I check on my brother.

  “You feeling any better?”

  “You know it,” he says sarcastically into the bowl.

  He looks like death warmed over. I try not to cringe, but I can’t control my face. His cheeks are hollow, and his eyes are bloodshot, sunken and have dark bruises underneath them. Somehow his dark tanned skin looks doughy and off color. His whole body looks thinner.

  “Working on the dead sexy look, eh?” I say, trying for a joke.

  He closes his eyes as his chest heaves. Nothing comes up this time.

  “Sorry,” I say. “Want anything?”

  “Tell Marcus to come back next year. I’m not leaving yet.”

  “Okay,” I say. “He’s not here right now, but I’ll tell him.”

  “Great,” Jared says and turns back to the pot and retches once again.

  I back out of the bathroom and blow air from my nose trying to expel the sour stench of his puke.

  I wonder if Nathaniel could help Jared recover, like when he healed my swollen ankle with his amazingly warm hands. I shake my head trying to expel the stupid gene from my brain. Duh. Nathaniel can’t help Jared, again. That’s what all the hostility between Marcus and Nathaniel is about.

  When will I even see Nathaniel again? I can’t help but wonder. I was so mortified about what I did when I was possessed we didn’t talk about when we would see each other again. His sweet kiss on the front porch would imply he’s coming back, but what if it was a kiss goodbye? Like forever? I flinch at the thought. Maybe I don’t deserve to have Nathaniel as a boyfriend. I obviously had no control of my actions when I was possessed. What if something like that were to happen again? I can’t trust that it won’t. Especially with all the weirdness around here lately.

  Before I leave the landing at the top of the stairs, Jared walks out of the bathroom, looking droopy and beat. He has a tin of salve in his hand. It looks like something from Grandma. My guess, it’s her flu balm. It helps with body aches and nausea. I take the salve from his listless hand.

  “I’ll put it on your back for you,” I say.

  His lip curls slightly at the suggestion. “Star wasn’t sick, was she?” he says as he slowly lowers himself to his bed.

  “No,” I say.

  “She’s chill, Jules,” he mumbles. “She wants to work on a song with me.”

  “Really?” I say, not wanting to commit to any opinion about Star. She’s a little wacko in my book. She was all excited when those demons trashed my room. Jared must have it bad for her though. He’s never told me a girl was “chill” before.

  Jared pulls his tank top over his head and just sits there, staring at nothing, and looking truly miserable. He must be really sick. He would never let me do this otherwise. He teeters, flops over, and rolls onto his side with his back to me.

  “Get it over with,” he says.

  I open the tin of herb infused jojoba oil and beeswax and begin to rub it into the muscles of his back.

  “J, do you remember the night we went to The Edge?”

  “Errrff.” He sort of half moans and half grunts the response.

  I take it as a yes. “I’ve turned into a mutant worrier. It’s a complete and utter takeover of my emotional state of being,” I say and stall for a few seconds. “Umm, concerning my behavior that night.”

  His head rolls slightly to look over his shoulder at me. I can’t tell if he’s judging me for what I did, or if he’s incredulous that I’m bringing up my night of table dancing, drug ingesting, and whoring when he is dying before my eyes. I cringe deeper and look at the smooth muscles of his back, unable to meet his eye.

  He turns back to his pillow, not speaking.

  “You know it wasn’t really me, right?”

  “Hmmph.”

  He makes a slightly different sound this time. He knows. Jared was the one who saved me from Travis the warlock’s binding ceremony. He carried me to Chris’s front door and stayed the entire night while I was being exorcised.

  “Well,” I start. God, what if I’m pregnant? I hadn’t considered that before. My hands stop working in the salve. I swallow a mouthful of stomach acid and try not to vomit. What if I’m pregnant! I don’t even remember the guy’s name! My mind instantly tries to calculate the days since my last cycle. Errr…I can’t think.

  “Jules, spit it out.”

  “What was your friend’s name? That night in the car?”

  “I tried to tell you, you were going to hate yourself.”

  “I can’t remember everything so well. My memories are really scrambled after that whole incident,” I say.

 
; “You were about to scratch my eyes out if I didn’t let you smoke with me.”

  That part I do recall. Getting high had been like nothing I could ever imagine. I couldn’t feel my body or my brain. Whatever had been in Jared’s pipe was potent. I had a few drinks that night, too. Thank the saints and angels I even lived. Although if I’m pregnant, I may take it back.

  “What was his name? Not Patrick, but your other friend in the car with us?”

  “He’s not my friend.”

  I feel Jared’s body tense beneath my hands.

  “What?” I ask, wondering what Jared is thinking.

  “No friend of mine would do that with you right in front of me.”

  “What were we doing?” I ask again. The details inside the car, after we left the nightclub, are too fuzzy. I think it’s because I was so high, but also because being possessed by a succubus played havoc on me. The succubus’s needs and wants were overpowering.

  “You don’t remember?” Jared says dryly. “I almost crashed the car because of you two. And that elk in the road. Shit, Jules…”

  He doesn’t finish his sentiment.

  “I only remember pieces.”

  “Good. Forget about it. Now get out. I’m getting pissed just thinking about the f-tard.”

  “But Jared, I need to know what happened after we got back home.”

  “No, you don’t because nothing happened.”

  His body tenses even more and he rolls away from me.

  “I’m gonna be sick.”

  With that, he pushes himself off the bed and dashes for the bathroom.

  Feeling a little sick myself, I head back downstairs and update Mom and Grandma about Jared. Not sure what to think about the conversation I just had with my brother, I stand and blink my eyes a couple of times like this may have some magical effect on how I see my world. When nothing appears any different I decide some fresh air may help. I step outside and see Chris’s pickup truck parked next to our cars.

  I take a shaky, but deep, breath. For now, I’m going to leave crisis one and two inside the house. I can’t do anything about possibly being pregnant, and Jared is being taken care of by the two most capable women I know. For the moment, I need to deal with crisis three. The residual demon energy inside my bedroom.