The Ghost Host: Episode 2 (The Ghost Host Series)

by DelSheree Gladden

  Bracing myself for whatever I might find, I twist the handle and push the door open quietly. Tucked against Kyran’s chest, spoon style, is a sleeping Echo. Fully clothed. I sigh in relief.

  Walking around to her side, I sit on the edge and press my hand to her cheek. “Echo,” I whisper, “time to wake up. We need to talk.”

  Her face scrunches and she pulls away from me. Her movement wakes Kyran, though, and he yawns before focusing on me. “Hey, man. What’s up?”

  “More questions and a hell of a lot more confusion.”

  Kyran snorts. “So, nothing new, I guess.”

  I scoff. Pretty much.

  Kyran isn’t particularly thrilled about having to get out of bed, but he understands this can’t wait. Brushing Echo’s hair back from her face, he leans so his lips are just above Echo’s ear and says, “Time to wake up, Echo. We have work to do.”

  She groans and turns into the pillow. “No…homework,” she mumbles.

  Kyran chuckles. “Ghost work, not homework.”

  Echo bolts upright, clipping Kyran’s chin with her head on the way. She gasps and turns to him, pressing a hand to where she hit him. “Sorry. You okay?”

  He smiles. “I’m fine.” I’m almost positive he’s forgotten I’m here. Then he sighs and tilts his head toward me. “Griffin’s found something new.”

  Turning, Echo’s cheeks flush in embarrassment. “Hey, Griffin. How are you feeling?”

  “Like shit,” I say, “but we need to talk. Everyone’s in the living room. Come join us when you’re ready.”

  I stand and walk to the door. I almost leave but think better of it and gesture for Kyran to join me. Echo is still a broken mess and she’s walking a fine line between wanting Kyran and needing him. Kyran seems to know that, but still is put out by having to drag himself from the bed and leave her behind. When I close the door to her bedroom he scowls at me.

  “You suck.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Deal with it.”

  Kyran snorts, but smiles for a moment before it falters. “She’s not doing very well. Last night…she thinks it’s too late for her to escape all the bad things she’s seen and done.”

  “She hasn’t done anything worthy of her guilt.”

  “I know, but you can’t convince her of that.”

  “I can’t,” I say, “but you can. You have to, okay?”

  He sighs and shoves his hands in his jeans pockets. “I’m trying, but…”

  “Just keep trying.” I squeeze his shoulder, then start back toward the living room.

  Dad is already laying out what the hospital sent over. The rest of the group is all hovering around him. So much for not including more people than is absolutely necessary. Or maybe we’ve just reached the point where everyone is absolutely necessary. I flop down next to Zara in the only empty space on the couch and close my eyes. Dad won’t start until Echo’s out here. I press my fingertips to my temples and rub slow circles. It doesn’t really help, but it’s a small distraction.

  “Here,” Kyran says, tapping my left hand with something hard.

  I force my eyes open and look at the mug. I’m not really a coffee person, but I take it from his hand. The second I get it near my face, I realize it’s definitely not coffee. It smells horrible. I take a swig anyway. It tastes almost as bad as it smells, and it feels weird as it settles in my stomach. I take another drink, and another. I’m halfway through the weird liquid when I realize the pain is slowly ebbing away.

  Glancing up at Kyran, I hold the mug up and demand, “What was in this?”

  He smirks. “Kava kava and sage mostly. Works on neuropathic pain and cleanses spiritual energy.”

  Dad’s gaze moves between Kyran and me. His eyes narrow, then widen in surprise. He looks over at Kyran again, considering him. I’m too amazed by my lack of pain to think of anything else.

  “Can you get me more of this?” I ask.

  “Sure, man. I’ve got more back at our apartment.”

  Kyran definitely has some skill with interpreting, but that can’t be his only gift. Maybe once Echo is stabilized, I’ll be able to figure him out. For now…Echo approaches the group and sits down next to Dad.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Kyran was right that Francis’s spirit has moved on. He’s not the one trying to kill you. Lucy Coulter is. She already killed Noel Glasscoe, though no one seems to know why, then killed herself immediately after—rather unexpectedly about a month ago. When Noel tried to warn you about her, she killed him a second time. How, I have no idea. We’ll figure that out later. For now,” Dad says, “I want to know everything you know about Noel Glasscoe.”

  Echo glances over at Malachi, then back to Dad. “It’s not much. He showed up about a month ago and just hung around.” She twists her sweater between her fingers. “Yesterday, he tried to strangle one of my teachers and I think…he might have been the one who’s been talking to me in my sleep.”

  Dad stares at her. Her explanation is lacking, but he decides against pushing her. “The hospital can’t explain why Coulter killed Noel. They didn’t know each other, but before she attacked him she shouted that he had no right to spy on her and that he couldn’t stop her. In her room they found incomprehensible writings and sketches of symbols they can’t identify.”

  “Can I see those?” Kyran asks.

  Pushing a stack of papers toward him, Dad continues. “The only straightforward, useful information in the file was that Lucy Coulter hated Echo and blamed her for being locked up. She frequently mentioned trying to kill her in sessions with her doctors and therapists, but since she was locked up…then dead…no one at the hospital thought the threats would come to anything. They still don’t, for obvious reasons, but they’re clearly wrong.”

  “But,” Echo asks, “what does Noel have to do with any of this?”

  Dad hesitates. It very well could be that Noel was simply the mistaken focus of a delusional and homicidal women. I have a hard time buying that, for some reason. His interest in Echo was too purposeful. I’m not adept enough at recognizing specific spiritual energies to say his attack from last night felt like any of the times I’ve witnessed Echo being visited by a ghost at night, but instinct tells me Echo and Malachi are right about them being one in the same.

  Maybe speaking to Echo in her sleep is nothing new. Archer was able to do it—though he wasn’t exactly an ordinary ghost. Even so, what’s even more troubling is that Noel was able to influence me as he did. Even from within the circle the link remained active. That certainly suggests there was something unique about him.

  “Why was Noel committed?”

  Pushing the laptop toward me, Dad says, “I’d like your opinion on that.”

  I suspect, just from that, that Noel shouldn’t have been where he was. Few things get under Dad’s skin to the point he would doubt his own objectivity. Mistreatment of those who are most misunderstood is one of them. I scan through the commitment papers and treatment notes. Noel was picked up for vagrancy, then sent for psychiatric observation when he kept causing disturbances in the tank, calling out who was lying, who was guilty of what they’d been arrested for and who wasn’t. He even unveiled information about cops who came by to quiet things down, including that one officer was sleeping with his partner’s wife.

  He spoke in whatever language the person he was speaking about understood, which either meant he was multilingual or his abilities were incredibly powerful. That doesn’t totally explain why he communicated during the séance using Portuguese unless…it was the first foreign language I learned, my favorite to speak in and one I occasionally find myself thinking in when I want to express complex ideas English doesn’t have the right words for. My thoughts lately have certainly drifted into different languages fairly often since arriving in Georgia. It’s an interesting bit of information, but I refocus on Noel and the report in search of answers.

  The man’s strange behavior continued during his psych hold and they eventually committe
d him when he was unable to explain himself. That leaves the impression that this man was very powerful, but never learned how to properly control what he could do. After being committed, medications seemed to help his control and focus. His outbursts were curbed, but the flow of information continued. He simply appeared to have better awareness of what he said while medicated. Staff were wary of him. They kept him secluded from the other patients most of the time—which was why Lucy’s attack surprised them so much. They had never even met before.

  After the murder-suicide, one orderly commented that he heard Noel tell Lucy that the black beasts were lying to her and she would never have her revenge on Echo. The comment hadn’t made any sense to the orderly. Lucy launching herself at Noel and crushing his windpipe with her bare hands made even less sense. The orderly was trying to get her off Noel when she got a pen from his shirt pocket and stabbed it into her own neck.

  I shake off the bloody image and push the laptop away. “He was a claircognizant.”

  Dad sighs and nods in agreement, but Malachi is confused. “A what?”

  “Someone who knows things, usually truth from lies, or secrets, without any logical or rational reason for knowing,” I explain.

  “So he knew what Mrs. Coulter was planning just from being near her?” Echo asks.

  I nod, but something else is poking at the edge of my thoughts. “That doesn’t explain his interaction with me.”

  Kyran frowns. He glances over at me, considering his words before speaking. “Death changes a lot of things, especially for people with spiritual gifts. They intensify, for one, because you don’t have a body holding you back, and they can more easily create connections with the living who also have spiritual gifts.” He holds my gaze, waiting to see what my response will be.

  Pretending not to notice the others all looking at me as well, I simply say, “That’s interesting.”

  Dad redirects the conversation by saying, “The more important questions are how Coulter was able to get into the circle to destroy Noel, and what connection she has with the devourers.”

  “And how she made that connection,” I add.

  “They’re recruiting,” Kyran says. “Noel isn’t the only one more capable of reaching out to others like him. So are they. I know that’s not all of it, but it’s more likely than Lucy Coulter knowing about them and how to reach out. Everything with Timothy proves something much bigger is going on with the Devourers over all. I’ve haven’t got the faintest idea about what that might be, though.” He glances down at the writings from Lucy Coulter and frowns. “Maybe this stuff will provide some answers but…I’ll look at it after classes today.”

  Echo groans. “What time is it? I’ve got classes today too.”

  “You’ve still got an hour before you need to get ready,” I tell her. Turning my attention to Dad, I ask, “Any chance we can put out some kind of alert to psychiatric facilities?”

  “About what? Patients acting unusual? We’d get either get thousands of reports a day, or zero, because they’ll ignore it as ridiculous.” He shakes his head. “I agree they’ll go after the institutionalized first, but it’s just too big of a pool to track.”

  He’s right, but we have to try something. “What about attempted or actual murders, at least? Maybe we can at least start to establish a pattern of who they’re going after.”

  Dad considers that for a moment then nods. “It’s a start.”

  His gaze sweeps around the group. When he first told me about Echo and attempting to work with her and work around her group of friends, there was never an absence of weariness in his voice. They grated on his patience, at times, and there were moments he felt frustrated at having to work with a bunch of teenagers. Technically Malachi and Kyran aren’t teenagers anymore, but when I first arrived and had to put up with their petty arguments and jealousies, I could definitely sympathize.

  This case has impacted everyone involved. It’s not surprising to see him look over the group with a burgeoning respect rather than forced patience. “Why was Coulter able to disrupt the séance? I’ve never seen that before.”

  No one answers immediately. Surprisingly, Malachi is the first to offer an experience. “He never spoke her name. He did mention her, though. He was talking about her. Maybe that was enough to give her access.”

  “Or it could be because she killed him,” Zara says. “The Devourer who killed Archer had that weird tether to him right? Maybe she had some sort of link.”

  Holden seems surprised by his cousin’s suggestion—or the completeness of it anyway. Either way, he has his own. “It’s also possible that power from the Devourers simply makes it possible for her to bypass the protections we used.”

  Interrupting with a grunt that expresses his disagreement, Kyran keeps his gaze on the pages he’s studying as he speaks. “It’s probably not the last one. No offense, Holden. If Devourers had an innate ability to hijack séances, they’d do it all the time. Holding a spirit in a circle would be like putting them on a platter. Devourers would never pass that up. I think it’s either the link or Noel mentioning her.”

  “How do you know Devourers don’t hijack séances?” Zara asks, intrigued.

  Kyran snorts. “Trust me, I know.” He doesn’t elaborate, but Echo and Malachi both understand the meaning behind his words. I can guess at what he means, but I’m interested in knowing more. Later.

  “Holden, can you take the lead on researching that?” I ask. I don’t want Kyran distracted from Lucy’s writings or the ferryman’s book. Holden nods, and Zara surprises him by offering to help.

  “Whoa,” Kyran says suddenly.

  When he doesn’t elaborate, Dad barks a sharp, “What?”

  Startled by his voice, Kyran looks up. “Huh?”

  “What did you just find?” Dad asks. He spent most of the night making sure I was all right and didn’t get much sleep, so his patience is at a minimum.

  “Oh. It’s just that this is the same group of symbols from the book. Just this one section.” He whips the paper off the stack and slaps it down on the coffee table to point at a grouping that is clearly Egyptian.

  It’s a jumble of poorly drawn symbols, each one different. Studying language necessitated at least a basic familiarity with early forms of language. I’m not nearly as knowledgeable as someone who made that their specialty, or even as Kyran with his apparent interpreting ability. I know enough to pick out the origins of at least half the symbols even though I have no idea what they mean.

  “I don’t know what any of the groupings mean, not for sure, but I’m pretty sure they all mean the same thing,” Kyran says.

  Echo leans closer. “Aren’t those the ones from your chart?” She glances at Malachi before turning back to Kyran. “The one you said you thought was supposed to be me?”

  “Yeah,” Kyran says. “What that means, I have no clue, but if I can figure out what even one of these symbols means…it’ll be like a Rosetta stone. Maybe. I’ll know what this one means in the ferryman’s book and some of the individual parts might help me decode more of the book.”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Dad reaches for patience. “What chart?”

  “I have it in my backpack. I just didn’t really get a chance to show you what I’ve figured out from the book last night.”

  Dad sighs. “Before you leave for class, I want copies. Add this to what you’re studying as well. We need progress on this as fast as possible.” He tosses a manila folder onto his lap.

  Opening the folder immediately, Kyran’s eyes widen to scan the newest translations from the FBI Egyptologist. He checks out of the conversation and is quickly flipping through her work. Hopefully it will help. We desperately need it.

  “If there’s nothing else,” Echo says as she stands, “I’m going to go take a shower.”

  That’s the signal for everyone to disperse. Malachi has to drag Kyran out of the apartment, his fingers still flipping through the pages of Lucy’s notes an
d the translations as they walk out. Dad and I are suddenly the only ones left in the room. He looks like he’s asleep, but I know better.

  “She’s going to figure it out,” he says without opening his eyes.

  “After what Kyran said…yeah.”

  “You might as well just tell her yourself. Maybe she’ll be less upset.”

  My jaw clenches, and I know it doesn’t need to be said, but I say it anyway. “You’re the one who told me to keep it to myself.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  He offers no apologies or excuses. I get it, I do. He made the choice based on the circumstances at the time. It was a tossup and could have gone either way. I’m the only who’ll take the brunt of the consequences, though. Pushing up from the couch, I say, “I’ll talk to her tonight,” and walk out.

  27: Between

  (Echo)

  We have got to deal with Lucy Coulter and the Field of Reeds issue soon or I’m not going to survive this semester. I sigh as I shove my books back into my bag. I know there are way more important reasons than that to lock up the Devourers and put down a vengeful ghost. Right now, with another lab report to write up and no time or mental energy available to actually do it, it sure feels like the most pressing reason.

  Chemistry is my favorite class this semester, but I struggled to concentrate all morning and nearly ruined the experiment for the whole group when I left the solution over the heat too long. How can I stay focused when I’m scared of Lucy attacking me at any moment, or a Devourer bursting out of the spiritual plane and consuming me? And what the hell is going on with Griffin?

  He was gone when I got out of the shower this morning. I got text midway through my first class saying he had a few things to run down and would meet me at my place after lunch. That sounds fishy, but whatever. I need to help Kyran go through everything Morton dumped on him this morning anyway. How he has time to work, do homework, research stuff for the case, and play videos games, I have no idea.

  I’m the last to make it back to the apartment. Everyone is there amid various piles of papers, books, and lunch paraphernalia. Cerise looks like she’s building a fort on the coffee table with all the books stacked there. Someone must have cleaned out the library of anything even remotely related to symbols and hieroglyphs. At the rate Zara is highlighting lines from Morton’s printouts, we’re going to need to invest in Sharpie.