A Strange There After (8 page)

“Voodoo? Catherine?” As hard as I tried, I
couldn’t picture her caring about anything as trivial as religion.
Then, an image of her sticking pins in a voodoo doll and giggling
surfaced. No, I totally saw it. “What if Catherine found a way to
practice on her own? Maybe she called some big baddie to help her
and couldn’t control it.”

“I think, with her, anything is possible.” He
almost sounded proud of her. “But, frankly, this started before she
was even born. Although, it would not hurt to investigate the
voodoo angle. Whatever you do, take care of yourself.”

My mouth dropped open, not only at what he
said, but because it came so freely. Naturally, I grew suspicious.
“Why are you being nice?”

His lips lifted in amusement. “I am
capable.”

“Surprise.” I couldn’t stop the sarcasm. “So,
these things are linked to Catherine?”

His mood soured as he considered how to
answer. Eventually, he said, “The female’s history is entwined with
the boy’s. A story filled with grief and hatred.”

I waited for more but got nothing. I groaned
in frustration. “Do you mean George? And what do you mean
entwined?”

“It is not my place to say.” He stared
blankly at the wall.

“Okay, can you tell me anything about the
male entity?”

“Don’t provoke him.”

“You are so damn frustrating,” I bit out,
slapping the mattress. “Why can’t you get over yourself and talk to
me?”

“What difference will it make, Quinn? Why
does my interpretation of another person’s story matter? How does
my sad tale help?”

“It keeps me from feeling so alone,” I
answered quietly. That was what it all boiled down to.
Realistically, I didn’t expect a miracle. My existence, and my
future with the person I thought I loved, wasn’t mine anymore. But
I wasn’t ready to give up. I would fight like hell not to end up as
one of the sad spirits wandering around town. As long as I tried, I
stayed connected to everything I lost. Giving in to the crushing
loneliness would kill me for real.

Unbidden, the desire to see Boone manifested.
I felt so normal in his presence, which was about as strange as
strange could get after such a short period. I stared at Jackson,
consoled a little by the sorrow in his expression. Boone wasn’t the
only one I counted on to see me.

“It’s nice to not be invisible,” I told him.
“I’m sure you understand what it’s like.”

“You always saw me.”

“Kinda. I mean, when I was younger I sensed
someone there, but it took me a while to actually notice a person.
The ability grows with me. I don’t know why I was born with this
so-called gift to see spirits and communicate with them. Mama
talked about ghosts so much I used to assume it rubbed off on
me.”

“You inherited it from her.”

Breath whooshed from my lungs in shock. “Did
you...did you ever talk to her?”

“A couple times, nothing compared to you and
me.” A tiny smile played at his lips. “Your father was a Roberts,
so it’s a strange coincidence she married into a family with
history such as yours when she had the power to observe us. Meant
to be, in a sense.”

He paused, and I thought he was done. An ache
bloomed in my chest, hearing about my mama, but it also felt
wonderful.

“Not long after you were born,” he continued,
“I passed by the doorway to your nursery. Your mother, Diane, held
you in her arms, and I lingered for just a second. She stared at
you with such tenderness. It made me long for all the things I
missed out on.”

I sighed, pushing the non-existent air past
the lump in my throat. “I wish I’d known her longer.”

“The ones we love never truly leave us.” He
said, sounding a lot like a cheesy greeting card.

“Thank you.” Then a memory assaulted me.
“I’ll never forgive Catherine for what she did, for hurting
her.”

“It wasn’t Catherine’s fault.”

I shot him a glare, snatching my hand back.
“She tried to possess her, like with Marietta. Mama fought so hard
she had a brain aneurism and died. Who else am I supposed to
blame?”

“Whatever controlled Catherine.”

“But she let it in,” I ground out. “Which
makes her responsible.”

“All you know is who she is now. If you’d met
her—”

“
You’re supposed to be on my
side.”

“I’ve helped you!” He struggled to regain his
composure. “You might not believe me, but I don’t enjoy seeing you
suffer.”

“Then, for God’s sake, do something about
it,” I mumbled. “I’m so sick of these see-sawing emotions.”

“
You’re new, give it a chance.
Eventually, all these raw emotions you’re feeling will
fade.”

“I don’t want them to fade. I miss Jason.
He’s slipping from me.”

“Don’t let him be your sole reason for
fighting. If you let it, living up to the expectation will be
impossible for him. Part of accepting this form is to let go of all
the things you once dreamed of.” Jackson stood abruptly, his
expression guarded, and cleared his throat. “If you’re better, I’ll
leave you be.”

Then he vanished. I stuck out my lower lip.
So far I hadn’t mastered the whole disappearing into thin air
thing, not on purpose anyway. I hoped I didn’t stay in this stupid
afterworld long enough to find out.

For the first time, Jackson had given me a
hint of why he stuck around. His love for Catherine hadn’t
lessened, not after all the years and the horrible acts she
committed. Why did he torture himself by staying? Had he done what
he warned me about and made it all about her? It didn’t make sense.
As far as I knew, he didn’t die on the property. Unless there were
things I’d yet to learn. Without knowing the truth, what could I
accomplish?

Jackson was such a conundrum, always trying
so hard to pretend he didn’t care about anyone, then in the next
minute, giving me more information than I asked for. The events I
witnessed in this house were connected to both entities residing in
the yard. I was positive of it. The only problem lay in finding out
how and why I hadn’t been aware of them before.

Which brought my musings to George. If he was
involved somehow, he’d be able to tell me the most. I needed to
find out what Jackson meant by the crazy lady’s history being
connected to the boy.

I hopped off the bed, as well as I was able,
and happened to glance at my clothes. Had I known that night in the
cemetery I’d be stuck forever in the same outfit, I might have
chosen something better than boot cut jeans and turquoise scoop
neck tank top. Despite everything that had happened, the clothes
were in pristine condition, wrinkled but clean.

I was so over looking at them. Every. Single.
Day.

Reaching down, intending to grip the hem of
the shirt and pull it over my head, my fingers slipped right though
the material. Same with the button of the jeans. Obviously,
changing was out of the question.

Brushing the frivolous thought aside, I went
off in search of George. And answers.

After not finding him anywhere on the second
floor, I used the rear staircase, near the kitchen. Determination
drove me, made me hunger for information. Right before stepping
foot in the room, a slight flutter erupted in my chest, infusing
warmth into my limbs. Steeling myself against another sickening
display of Catherine and Jason making out, I squared my shoulders
and prepared for the gag-worthy sight. How much longer could I
gross out at the sight of him kissing me? A perverted form of
reverse psychology. If I saw it enough, and hated it enough, soon I
wouldn’t want to kiss him at all once I got my body back.

To my relief and disappointment Jason wasn’t
there. Just Catherine, leaning against the counter and looking at
something on what appeared to be a brand new laptop, cell phone
plastered to her ear. Happiness lit her face, and envy shot through
me like a knife. Oh joy, more torture for the poor specter.

“I miss you, too,” she cooed into the
phone.

I wrinkled my nose. I’d never cooed a day in
my life. Flirting was awkward, forced, and I only got to practice
with Jason for a short while. I sucked at it.

Catherine giggled, another sound I rarely
made. “I have thought about it, more than you know. This is my
chance to start new, to spread my wings in a way I couldn’t before,
so I think I’ll stay in Savannah for now.”

The conversation piqued my interest, and I
took a couple steps forward, wishing I heard his responses. She
didn’t acknowledge my presence, and for some reason, it bothered
me. The idea of her being so caught up in talking to Jason she
didn’t notice a ghost in front of her caused a dull fire of hate to
slowly build inside me. I concentrated on it, letting it grow.

“It’s getting better. Everything was so
different when Marietta was around. It’s hard to suddenly adjust to
being alone.” Her lips curved up in a bright smile at something he
said. “I didn’t mean alone, alone. You’ve made it bearable.”

My eyes narrowed, and the rage inside me
became a monster, snarling and begging to be let loose.

“I do enjoy it, but ever since the night we
saved Marietta I can’t bring myself to do any ghost hunting. That
world doesn’t feel the same anymore.”

I considered this for a moment. If we’d been
successful, and I actually maintained a hold on my body, would I
want to explore haunted locations again? Or had all the horrors I
experienced changed my perception of the paranormal? No. My
curiosity remained hungrier than ever. I might have witnessed the
dark side, but it wouldn’t stop me from wanting to learn more.

“Fine,” she sighed out. “I know you had fun
that night at Moon River. Maybe I can take you someplace else. I
think I created a monster.”

Jason had accompanied Abby and me to Moon
River Brewing once, during one of our investigations. He carried
his own reasons for tracking ghosts, considering his younger
brother, Dylan, had died a little over a year ago. His closure was
far from complete.

Of course, Catherine lied about doing an
investigation with him. I could tell by the way my stomach
clenched, as it often did when I told a lie. I hated being able to
mirror what she felt, but luckily it only seemed to happen when we
were near each other. A small, silver lining.

“Okay, I’ll see you later. Can’t wait.”

The second she ended the call, my hand shot
out and latched onto the juice glass sitting on the counter next to
me. The fact I actually picked something up barely registered as I
hurled the object at her head. Catherine looked over in time to
dodge out of the way. The glass hit the counter behind her and
shattered. The second it did, my fit of anger popped, leaving me
empty and exhausted. Sure, I’d physically manipulated a solid
object again, but it took nearly all my energy. And I didn’t like
that this small part of me I never knew existed enjoyed the
opportunity, honing in on the malice festering under the
surface.

Catherine straightened, and I savored a tiny
measure of satisfaction at the fleeting terror in her eyes before
she shut it down. She fixed a smirk on her lips.

“My, my, look who’s found her backbone.” Her
shoulder jerked up. “Too bad it came a little too late.” She turned
back to the computer, effectively dismissing me, but I wasn’t done
with her.

“I’ve seen what’s in the yard.” I advanced,
not entirely sure why I needed to tell her, maybe I wanted her to
talk to me, to force her to slip up and give me a useful tidbit of
information.

“So?”

I should have guessed she’d play hardball.
Taking a page out of her book, I tossed out a bored sounding
question, praying the change of subject caught her off guard.
“What’s it like? Living here with your ex-boyfriend? I mean, he’s
stuck because of you, orbiting around your sun.”

Catherine folded her arms across her chest,
wrinkling her nose. “You’re assuming I think about him at all.
Jason is the only man I need.” She indicated the laptop. “And most
people think we’re quite the pair.”

With a tentative step forward, suspecting a
trap, I focused on the images. It was pictures of Catherine and
Jason from various Hollywood gossip sites. In each one they were
smiling or laughing or gazing at the other with visible emotion.
And every single one hurt. They looked so happy, so glamorous. The
pictures had been taken all around town, in front of local
restaurants, by the river, on the set of his movie. I hadn’t
realized Catherine and Jason were together so much. A hot lump of
sadness formed in my throat, but I swallowed it down. I couldn’t
let her see how negatively this affected me.

“Can you believe some of these so-called
journalists are calling me a ‘simple country bumpkin’? How dare
they! Savannah is certainly no backwoods town. It’s a thriving
city, always has been. In 1865 it was a jewel of the South.” She
pursed her lips. “Well, mostly because it was one of the only
cities unburned by that bastard Sherman.”

I gaped at her. “Seriously? You spend your
days standing around worrying about what people on the internet are
saying about you? I don’t believe this. You do realize how stupid
it sounds, right?”

“Oh, please, like you never fretted about
what his peers thought of you. Don’t be a hypocrite. I know you
did. Besides, I have to care, for Jason’s sake.” She huffed out a
frustrated breath. “These reporters are animals. Shoving and
shouting, all in competition to get the best photo. It truly is
madness.”

Her reply and the absurdity of the situation
stumped me. There were much more important things going on. I
didn’t have the luxury of trolling websites and dodging
photographers. Instead of attacking her about Jason, I honed in on
Jackson.

“Did you ever truly love Jackson?”

Her face, the one so familiar to me,
softened. “I was young, full of silly dreams. People change.”
Impatience crept in, and she snapped at me. “You’re making the
mistake of assuming I care what you do. I have what I intended—a
second chance and a life of my own.” Her nose wrinkled. “You and
your silly friends are grasping at empty air. I consider your
incessant questions nothing but a bug buzzing in my ear, annoying
and easily squashed.”