Phantoms of Fall (The Haunting Ruby Series Book 2) (26 page)

I wanted to protest, to tell her what a bad idea it was
but she was so excited that I didn’t want to make her feel bad.
So I faked enthusiasm just like I faked every other emotion
lately.

“That’s cool. Is everyone from school invited?” Maybe
they weren’t as dumb as I thought they were, maybe only a
select few people were included in the festivities. Maybe…I
was right the first time.

“The entire senior class is invited! It will be the party
of the century—I’m getting the invitations together this
weekend. Do you want to help me with them?”

How could I tell her that I hated the idea and that I
would never help her pull it off in any way, shape or form? I
was already furiously concocting an excuse for why I wouldn’t
be able to attend the party in my own house. Then I realized
something—I didn’t need to make up an excuse at all. I had a
legitimate reason right in the palm of my hand.

“I can’t help you this weekend—I have a job now.”

Rachel’s mouth dropped open. “
You
have a job? The
daughter of millionaire parents has a job? Where? Better yet,
why
?”

“Something Wick-ed. I needed something to fill in my
free time since….” How could I finish that sentence without
mentioning Zach? The answer was I couldn’t. So I switched
gears instead.

“Just because Dad and Shelly have tons of cash doesn’t
mean I do. And besides, I’m going to need every penny I can
get my hands on for our…I mean
my
apartment next year.”
Seriously, couldn’t I get through one simple thought without
thinking about Zach?

Rachel gave me a sad look. “So can we talk about
Zach? I promised him I wouldn’t interfere, but…”

I cut her off in mid-sentence. “Then don’t. It’s over.
I’d like to still be friends with you if that’s okay, but I don’t
want to talk about him. Ever.”

“Okay,” she said with disappointment, “And of course I
still want to be your friend.”

Whew.
If there was any hope of salvaging what was
left of my senior year, I needed Rachel’s help to do it. When
she offered me a hug, I gladly accepted it.

“Well, I need to get home now but I’ll definitely see
you later.” She paused with her hand on the door before
leaving. “Oh, and since we’re still friends I need to tell you
this,” she said, pointing at my hair. “You looked much better
with the red—blonde is not your shade, girlfriend.”

Except for the hour and a half I spent at the salon
getting my hair fixed, I spent the rest of my week with Rita at
Something Wick-ed. There was more to learn than I expected
but she guaranteed me that I would be more than ready by
Saturday—my first day of working alone.
And she was right.
Before opening that morning, I was so confident that I was
extremely bummed when I realized that I forgot to bring my
laptop. I planned on using it to write between customers but
now I was left with nothing to fill in the dead time.

There wasn’t enough time to run home and get it
before we opened, so I whined about it to Rita instead.

“Couldn’t you just stay for a half hour? I promise I’ll
be quick about it—no distractions. I’ll just run in for my
laptop and run back out! Come on, say you’ll stay!” I begged.

Rita shook her fiery red mane side to side. “I can’t
Ruby. I need to get on the road ASAP. The rest of the team is
waiting for me in Ohio. I have a long drive ahead of me and
I’m already running late. Today is the 100
^th
anniversary of
the Mossgrove axe murders.
Activity at the old farmhouse
picked up steadily over the past few months and we nailed
the exclusive anniversary investigation.”

She ran upstairs to grab the last of her luggage and
asked me to help her haul it out to her car. “Do you have any
idea how many ghost hunting teams competed to get that
honor?
I heard that Ghost Stalkers even tried to get the
exclusive.”

I stood on the sidewalk and pouted like a five year old
but she ignored me and slid into the driver’s seat. She put the
passenger side window down and yelled back, “Call me if you
need me and if you get bored, check out the filing cabinet by
the window—you might find something interesting in there.”

I reentered the shop and flipped the sign to “open”.
Without my laptop, it was going to be a long day.
I settled
myself on the stool behind the counter and stared out into the
street.

The first two hours dragged by at a snail’s pace. Every
customer was over the age of seventy and I had to answer the
same question, “Where’s Rita?” for each of them. By midafternoon, though, business picked up and the clientele grew
younger.
But what was a busy rush at 4:30 turned into a
ghost town—pardon the expression—by
five, so I found
myself wandering into Rita’s office, curious about her parting
suggestion.

The filing cabinet by the window stared me in the face
as I contemplated whether or not I wanted to open it. What
could be in it that I would find so fascinating? It was probably
just a trick Rita used to get me to stop begging her to let me go
home for my laptop. I almost walked away without opening
it.
Almost.
Then my curiosity got the better of me and I
yanked the top drawer open with a flourish.

Files. Files? Financial records, business receipts and
old tax returns—I guess the joke’s on me. Slamming the
drawer shut dramatically, I was surprised to see that the
bottom drawer popped out with the impact.
Just as I was
about to close it too, I noticed one word on the front file that
made me stop. Ghost. It was written in red marker and stood
out boldly.
Pulling
the
file out further, I read the full
inscription. Ringer Road Ghost—1992.

I flipped quickly through the rest of the drawer. What
I was looking at were the details of every case the S.P.I.R.I.T.
team worked on since forming in 1992. There were hundreds
of files each marked with the name of the haunting and the
year they investigated it. Wallace Hall Wraith—1993. Prison
Apparitions—1997. Ghost Cat—2005. Would
my
story be in
the last file?
Skipping all the way to the back, I found a file
marked Rosewood—2012 but it was empty inside.
It was
kind of weird to know that she was going to document my
horrors matter-of-factly and slide it into a manila file for
future reference.

Thinking that I might find even the tiniest hint that
could help me with Garnet, I snatched out the first file and
returned to my post behind the counter. I opened the file to
find that my original thoughts about her writing style were
dead wrong. Instead of dry documentary style, the notes from
the investigation were compiled into what was essentially a
short story.

Ringer
Road got its name from
the ghostly
legend
associated with it since the late eighteen hundreds.
An old
farmer wandered through the woods in search of his missing
cow, ringing a bell as he went in hopes that the cow would
follow the sound. As night overtook him, he wandered onto the
road and into the path of a horse and carriage.
His bell went
unheard over the sound of their thundering hoofs and he was
struck down by the oncoming carriage.
The man was taken to
the nearest farmhouse where he died two days later of his
injuries. But that wasn’t the last time he was seen
.
Travelers
that very night reported seeing the man standing at the bend in
the road, vigorously shaking his bell.
As they drew nearer, he
vanished into thin air leaving behind only the reverberating
chime to echo through their ears.
Reported sightings of him
number in the thousands with the last recorded sighting only
two
weeks ago
by a
young couple driving home from
the
movies.

A chill crawled up my spine and nestled into my soul.
Sure, I’d faced worse than that in my battles with the
paranormal but it was still a frightening story because I knew
it was real. And there were hundreds more just like it waiting
for me in that filing cabinet. Inspecting the other contents of
the file, I found tons of pictures, a small audio cassette and
details of the investigation. There was even a list of witnesses
they interviewed—that alone took up three sheets of paper.
All of this for one harmless man with a bell—imagine what all
would be in
my
file when she finally got around to filling it.

The clock on the wall chimed six o’clock, effectively
ending my first day of work. Not bad, I guess, considering I’d
never had a job before.
I flipped the sign, tidied up a bit and
locked the cash drawer in the office until morning. Replacing
the file back into the drawer, I made a decision. My laptop
would be staying home again tomorrow—I had something
better to do with my spare time.

I arrived at Something Wick-ed an hour early the next
day. Sure, there were things Rita wanted me to do before I
opened, but mostly I was anxious to get my hands on that next
file. Hurriedly, I shoved the cash drawer into the register and
quickly restocked the shelves from the extra stash of candles
in the backroom. I finished with thirty minutes left to peruse
S.P.I.R.I.T.’s second case—Anger Doesn’t Die.

I got so involved in the story that I didn’t keep an eye
on the time and forgot to open the store.
It was five minutes
after twelve when a sharp rapping on the glass caught my
attention and I realized what I did. Quickly, I bolted from the
stool and opened the doors with a sincere apology.
A steady
stream of customers poured in throughout the day and I
didn’t have a chance to read again until after closing. I hung
around long after my work was done to finish reading that
case and was tempted to start on the next one but refrained.
Tomorrow would be my first day back in school since “the
incident” and I still had homework to finish. I left Something
Wick-ed reluctantly but with a smile. I really liked my job.

By morning, I was wishing I could say the same about
school. It was going to be a bad day for a number of reasons.
First, there was the video.
Most people probably deleted it
from their phones after Mr. Lascher’s threat of suspension,
but I had a sneaking suspicion that it was still floating around
out there somewhere.

Second—Misty Landrum was an evil bitch and I swore
that I would punch her in the face if she even looked my
direction.
She probably gloated all week long to her coven
about how well her plan worked. She got what she wanted at
my expense.

Third—my
embarrassment
went far beyond what
could be seen in the video. Zach and I had a very nasty public
argument
before his
fight with
Ryan so news of our
breakup—well, it wasn’t exactly news anymore. Everyone
would know, everyone would whisper about it behind my
back.

Fourth—Garnet
was
still
out
there
somewhere,
prowling around in the shadows and planning who knows
what kind of attack on me. And I was no closer to finding a
way to stop her than when I ran out of the school in tears a
week ago.

Rachel agreed to meet me in front of the auditorium
so I didn’t have to walk in alone. I waited nervously in my car
until I saw her little yellow Volkswagen in
my
rearview
mirror. She practically had to drag me out of my car to get me
to go with her, though. I wasn’t ready for this—not ready at
all.

“Come on, Ruby! You’re with
me
—no one will dare
say a word. They know I would sic the wrath of Boone on
them if they did.” She tugged at my arm until I finally gave in.

“If you say so.…” Rachel was the most popular girl in
school but even so, I doubted her ability to keep the wolves at
bay. I was the weak, injured member of the pack—easy prey
for anyone looking for a quick kill. I kept my head down on
the way in and would have smacked my forehead on the door
frame if Rachel hadn’t saved me in time.

“Deep breath, eyes up, head high.
You have to
own
it—act like it happened but that you could care less.”

I tried to follow her instructions but panicked with the
first sideways glance I got. Rachel steadied me with her hand
and pushed me forward down the hall with her.

“You have to get used to it. I won’t be with you all day
so you need to toughen up fast.” She continued walking,
smiling and saying hi to her friends as she went.

She
was
right—of course, she
was
right.
I took
another deep breath and put a smile on my face, too.
The
walk to our lockers felt more like a walk to the electric chair. I
was relieved when we finally got there and I flung my locker
door wide to use it as a makeshift shield. Bad move.

Inside my locker, swinging in a sinister fashion from
the coat hook was a noose. I slammed the door shut so hard
the entire line of lockers rattled and shook. Great. I didn’t
want to attract attention by having anyone see what was in
there but then I went all Incredible Hulk on it and made
everyone stop and stare anyway. Smooth, Ruby, real smooth.

“What’s wrong? Did someone slip something nasty in
there?”

Uh, oh.
Rachel was wearing her Sherlock Holmes
hat—I could hear it in her voice. If I didn’t act quickly, she
would open my locker and I would have some explaining to
do.

Too late. While I hesitated, she acted.
Before I could
stop her, she flung the door open and peeked inside. I closed
my eyes and waited for her scream.