She shrugs. “Nobody.” Her gaze travels over her friends’ faces in confusion.
I process that as I try to understand the emotions pushing at me. “Not living,” I say as something clicks in my mind. “Who else is here?”
Echo’s brows pull together in confusion, her gaze scouring me as she attempts to understand. “Ghosts? There’s a bunch. Standing room only. They’re probably all hoping I’ll call them into the circle. Why?”
“Is there one near me? One that stands out? Touching me, maybe?”
Suddenly, her eyes widen. Her gaze snaps over to Malachi, though he doesn’t know why. Echo turns back to me. “Noel. He’s right behind you and has his hand on your shoulder.”
Now, Malachi sees the significance, though I’m still in the dark. One thing I have figured out, though, is that Noel came here tonight for a reason. “Call him into the circle,” I demand. The pressure of his desperation is beginning to crush me. It’s heavy, forceful, unrelenting. “Now.”
Echo nods and hurriedly says, “We wish to communicate with Noel…Noel Glasscoe.” She seems startled by knowing his full name, but there’s no time to dwell on that right now. Her call brings immediate relief to me and a startling shift in the items at the center circle. Everyone jumps, Malachi more severely than anyone else, though Zara’s not far behind him.
“Noel,” Echo says, “why are you here?”
This time everyone is more prepared for some sign that the ghost is trapped in the circle. Zara still utters a few curses behind me as the planchette begins moving across the Ouija board. Echo doesn’t reach for the pen and notepad beside her, so I quickly grab it and begin jotting down each letter. At first, none of it makes sense. It’s a jumble, a string of letters with no meaning.
Beside me, Echo groans. “Please tell me that’s not French or something.”
I was so focused on getting the letters written down, it’s not until she complains that I look at the string more carefully and realize she’s almost right. “Portuguese,” I say before focusing on breaking up the letters into words and translating them. “I am here to warn you. That’s what he said,” I tell the group.
“Warn me about what?” Echo asks the ghost.
The planchette begins moving again and I scribble down his response. “There is no man, Francis. You are wasting time. She is cunning and will kill you if you do not stop her.”
“She?” several people ask at once.
Everyone turns to Echo, but she shrugs in response to the obvious question. “Who is she?” she demands of Noel.
Before he can answer, Echo bolts up from her spot on the floor and spins around with wide eyes. “They’re all gone,” she whispers. “They’re all gone. Where did they go? Where did they all go?”
“Who’s gone?” Malachi asks.
She spins around again, fear saturating her from head to foot. “The ghosts, they all just vanished.”
Confused, I don’t hear the scratching of the planchette until it’s banged against the board several times. As soon as he has my attention, Noel frantically scrapes out his message. “Release me!”
I reach for the salt circle, intent on breaking it, but Malachi yanks me back. I try to shove him off, but the fiery red blazing from his bare forearm holds me back. That’s why the ghosts split. Something is coming. For them, or for Echo? I haven’t even begun to puzzle it out when I realize I’m wrong on both counts. Echo scream pulls everyone’s attention to her, but a second scream stuns the room into inaction.
I can’t see anything, but the emotional carnage spilling out of the center circle buckles my knee. Agony, horror, desperation, terror all slam into me as the Ouija board bashes against the invisible barrier of the salt circle over and over again. I have no idea what’s going on, but I can’t bear up under the strain and collapse to the floor.
Echo falls a moment later, sobbing, arms and hands covering her face as she curls into a protective ball that will never be enough to save her from what she was just forced to witness.
24: A Dream
(Echo)
I’m determined not to shut down, not to be a coward. The images of Noel being ripped apart by the vengeful ghost, who somehow got into the circle uninvited, are on endless repeat in my mind and I can’t stop crying no matter how much I want to prove I am stronger than what I’m up against. There was no blood. He was a ghost. Somehow, watching his soul be torn apart without the gore was even worse. Instead of flesh being ripped apart, it was his memories, his identity, his essence being destroyed.
I don’t understand it. How? How did it…she…do that? How did she eviscerate a soul so completely without being a Devourer?
Someone touches my face, I flinch away from the warmth, more tears pouring down my face.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re safe,” Kyran whispers.
I cry even harder. Noel isn’t safe. He’s gone. Forever. Because of me. Because he tried to help me. Just like Archer. Losing my battle to be strong utterly, I don’t resist when Kyran pulls me into his lap and wraps his arms around me. No matter what he says, the shame and revulsion cling to me. The guilt coats me like a second skin, sinking in more deeply every time the images of his second death flash through my mind until they are forever a part of me.
“I didn’t see anything, like in the alley,” Malachi says. The confusion in his voice barely pierces my fractured mind.
“Not a Devourer then?” Morton asks.
If Malachi responds, it’s silent.
Every speck of my conscious mind wants to keep hiding, not participate, not admit fault or discuss how I failed Noel. I want to use Kyran as a shield, protect myself from any more blame or pain or reality. Only the flickering desire to keep this from happening again demands I listen to them.
“I felt my mark flare, but got nothing from inside the salt circle,” Malachi says. “Is that normal?”
Morton grunts noncommittally.
Kyran says, “The circle of protection and salt circle are meant to keep the spirit from being able to exert any influence on the participants. You shouldn’t have felt anything.”
“But Griffin did. How…?” Malachi’s voice trails off.
Mention of Griffin pierces the fog of my own pain when I remember his, remember seeing him collapse half a second before I did. Suddenly noticing his lack of participation in the conversation, I try to push myself up quickly. Sluggish, at best, my movements do little and Kyran is forced to help me sit up. He tries to say something, but I turn away, searching for Griffin. I find him sitting up—in better condition than me—but slumped forward with his hands holding his head against his bent knees.
Seeing him like that returns enough of my energy that I crawl out of Kyran’s lap and reach for Griffin. His head stays down, but he extends a hand to me and says, “I’m okay.”
Taking his hand, I use his grip as leverage to pull myself closer to him. When I reach him. I collapse gracelessly next to him on the floor. “What happened?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” he says, wincing in pain and rubbing at his temple. “I’ll be fine, though.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Better than you,” he says, one corner of his mouth turning up. He grimaces when he moves, but slips his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer. “Don’t think I’ll be much help watching over you tonight.”
That makes me panic more than I want to admit, but I force myself not to let it show. “I’ll be fine,” I say automatically.
Griffin sighs, and I hate myself for being so weak. “No you won’t,” he says quietly, “but I can’t do anything to protect you like this.”
“I’ll stay,” Kyran says. “Me and Malachi.”
I feel Griffin nod, the movement of his head shifting his body slightly. Fear adds to my panic and I can feel it quickly turning to hysteria as I consider having them both here overnight. Griffin’s arm tightens around me, but he doesn’t say anything even though I know he can feel me trembling.
“I do
n’t know what I can really do,” Kyran admits, “but Malachi can at least use the mark if he needs to.”
“You can keep her from falling apart,” Griffin says quietly.
My trembling gets worse at his words. Terrible fear wraps its suffocating arms around me and my breathing rate jumps. All the ways this can go wrong begin piling into my mind, filling me with an unlimited list of scenarios. Mixed with the still present memories of Noel’s brutal end, I feel my fingers begin to go numb.
Moving quickly, Griffin suddenly has my face in his hands. He locks gazes with me, but says nothing. Steady, firm, focused. I feel my emotions scale back, but not enough. Dark spots flash in front of my vision as I continue to hyperventilate. Griffin’s grip tightens.
“You won’t do it again,” he says. His voice is hard yet compassionate. How he knows what I’m thinking, I have no idea. His words startle me enough that I gasp in a lungful of air and hold it. The cessation lasts barely more than a second, but long enough to let the message sink in.
It’s only then that I feel his hands shaking against my face. Whatever Noel did to him, it wasn’t pleasant. The impact affected him more than he’s letting on and my weakness is draining him even further. Focusing everything I have on slowing my breathing and calming my very real fears, I force myself to nod. It’s not that I believe him. He knows that. I trust him. I trust that he understands me better than I understand myself half the time. I trust that he believes in me even when I don’t.
Griffin pulls me into an embrace and holds me for a few seconds before practically falling away in weariness. His dad is behind him a moment later, helping him to standing. I stumble up to my feet, fighting back panic with every movement, and resist the urge to cling to him when I’m finally upright. Kyran’s arm slips around my waist, stabilizing me. Morton is doing the same for Griffin, but looks pained at the idea of leaving.
Glancing at Malachi and Kyran, then Holden and Zara, he sighs. “Call if you need anything. We’ll figure this all out tomorrow.” The promise feels empty, hopeless. He shifts Griffin so his arm is around his shoulder. “Everyone stay safe,” Morton barks before turning toward the door. Zara hurries forward to open it for them.
“Come on,” Kyran says once Zara closes and locks the door behind Morton and Griffin. I can’t help feeling abandoned when they disappear from view. The feel of Kyran’s arm around me tempers the sting, but I still freeze at the idea of moving from this spot. Not understanding my hesitance, Kyran asks, “Are you up to walking to your room?”
Physically, I’m recovered enough to get myself to my room. My emotional strength is another thing altogether. Griffin said it would be okay. Is he right? “I don’t know, I…” My thoughts jumble as I try to explain myself.
Kyran misinterprets my words as an answer to his question and doesn’t hesitate to sweep me into his arms. I panic instantly, wanting to be put down, and he freezes. “No, no,” I beg, “I can’t…you have to…”
I don’t notice his approach, but Malachi’s hand catches mine as I try to shove away from Kyran. There is so much pain in his expression, but he says, “Let him stay with you. I’ll be on the couch. I’ll come if you need me.”
His offer tears at me, and I know he doesn’t have the same faith in me that Griffin does. He shares my fears, is afraid I’ll try to fix my own pain by using Kyran. It’s killing him to imagine the possibility, but he doesn’t take back his words. The realization stabs into me and, for a split second, I’m angry he thinks I would do that, but am infinitely grateful at the same time that he is willing to take on that pain in order to keep me from breaking.
Despair that I am a horrible person, undeserving of the friends I have, spears straight through me. I don’t know what to say. When Malachi’s hand slips from mine and Kyran turns away from him, all I can do is hang limply in his arms. I don’t say a word as Kyran lays me on my bed and turns away to close the door. When he comes back, he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at his shoes.
“I can sleep on the floor.”
I don’t say anything. Guilt for wanting him next to me and fear of hurting Malachi even more than I already have suck the feeling from my body.
“That’s what Griffin and Malachi were talking about, right?” he asks quietly. “Griffin said you wouldn’t use me like you think you did Malachi, and Malachi was telling you it’s okay.”
Tears pour down my face and fall soundless to the pillow beneath my head.
“I know I treated Malachi worse than anyone after you two slept together, but I understand what happened that day, and why it happened.” Kyran lifts his head and lets his gaze settle on me. I look away, embarrassed I’m crying again and too ashamed by everything else to face him. He sits on the edge of the bed, and when I try to roll away from him he stops me with a hand on my shoulder. He doesn’t pull me back to face him and I refuse to do it voluntarily.
“You can’t command me,” he says. “Anything that happens between us will be because we both want it. It won’t be tonight, though, regardless. You won’t let that happen and neither will I. I’m willing to give you whatever you need, whatever you want, but we both know sex doesn’t fall into either category right now. I trust you enough to hold you all night, if that’s what you want. If you don’t trust yourself, or me, I understand that and I’ll sleep on the floor. You don’t have to prove anything to me, Echo.”
Still unable to face him, I stare at the darkened corner of my room. “I have to prove it to myself.”
His hand runs gently down my arm. “I know.” His fingers leaves my arm and brush tears from my cheek. “I’ll get a pillow and blanket from Zara and be right back, okay?”
I nod and close my eyes against seeing him walk away. The second his fingers leave my skin, cold loneliness sweeps over me. I want Griffin back. I want him to shield me from myself and my fears and the nightmares I know are awaiting me. I want the safety of being with him. I want to rely on him and be weak for tonight. I don’t want to have to survive without him. I’m not sure I can. I’m so tired of trying to hold myself together. Maybe falling apart would be better. Easier. Less terrifying.
The squeak of my bedroom door says Kyran is back, but I can’t look at him. Even with the lights off, I’m sure he’ll see through me in one glance. He and Griffin think I’m strong, but maybe Malachi is right. Maybe I’m only capable of surviving by leeching strength from the people around me.
Kyran pulls a blanket up around my shoulders and I press my face into the pillow. I’m being childish, maybe, but he pulls back once I’m covered and settles himself on the floor without comment. Silence reigns heavy in the room. It’s stifling. I glance around the dark room seeking distraction, but the ghosts are still gone. Not a single one wants to be near me after what happened to Noel. As many times as I’ve wished they would all go away and leave me alone, their absence is terrifying. I pull the blankets up around me and squeeze my eyes shut against the possibility that they might not come back.
Slowly, a fitful sleep claims me. I know I’m asleep, a clear indicator that it won’t be restful or pleasant, but I’m helpless to change anything. Thoughts and images flit around the edges of my subconscious, waiting for me to turn my back so they can assault me. I run from the nightmares I know are coming. Frantically, I push my thoughts in any direction that will take me away from Noel or Kyran or Malachi. I think of the twins’ tears when they had to leave after I got out of the hospital, of how tightly my mom hugged me, even of my dad’s lingering anger that Malachi had bullied him into leaving me alone. I throw everything I have at the nightmares to slow them up, but I don’t have nearly enough in my arsenal to escape their relentless march. When they finally catch up to me, the terror of watching Noel’s destruction envelopes me in a wave of well-deserved blame, and I break under its onslaught.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Kyran whispers as his arms slide around me and attempt to calm my thrashing. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m right here. It’s just a dream.”
&nbs
p; But it isn’t just a dream, I think, as I sob in his arms. None of it is a dream.
25: Darkening
(Echo)
The nightmares don’t return. Even asleep, I can feel Kyran’s arms around me. I hate nights like this where I linger in this sleep-but-not-sleep haziness. They’re usually the worst nights, never-ending and continuously torturous. For whatever reason, Kyran makes a difference. It isn’t anything supernatural. He isn’t like Malachi, or even like Griffin—though I still haven’t figured out what Griffin is, exactly. Kyran is simply comfort, safety, acceptance…home.
I breathe in, both physically and spiritually, wishing this strange respite could last, wishing it were a physical place I could visit when I need refuge from reality. Then I exhale…and everything changes. I stumble back, confused by what I’m seeing and completely lost as to how this has happened. I know it’s not another dream on instinct. It feels different, somehow familiar.
Slowly, I turn and survey my surroundings. The strange flat landscape holds nothing at all. It’s not…anything. I look above me and find the same thing. Flat, grey emptiness. It’s frightening to be surrounded by so much nothingness, but it’s also strangely comforting. There isn’t anything here that can hurt me. There’s nothing that can’t hurt me, either, which is a strange thought.
“Echo?” a small, familiar voice asks.
I spin around, startled by the sudden sound. I’m even more startled when I find myself staring at Timothy.
“What are you doing here?” he asks. “Agent Morton called my mom and told her I shouldn’t bring you or Malachi here tonight unless it was a super bad emergency.”
“Here?”
“Yeah. The Field of Reeds.” He frowns. “How’d you get here by yourself? I didn’t bring you, I promise. I’ve just been hiding, not even trying to find a soul to save ’cause it’s not safe without you and Malachi.”
The Ghost Host: Episode 2 (The Ghost Host Series) Page 21
