Spiritus, a Paranormal Romance (Spiritus Series, Book #1) (6 page)

Too soon I stepped into the shadows of the giant oaks in the yard. A chill overtook me and I knew I was home.

It was as if a hush fell over the world as I stepped onto the stone walkway. I could hear the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze and the far off call of a raven.

What a creepy sound, I thought as I looked up at the dark and deserted porches. Even in the daylight, the house seemed gloomy and waiting, looming over the other houses on the street.

The sky was bright and shinning above the house, intense blue and burning, but it couldn’t reach the shadows of this house. I walked under the canopy of the oaks and into the house.

Inside, despite the comfortable hum of the air conditioning, the entry still held the memory of the day’s heat. The scent of a century’s worth of sunlight baking the old wood was oddly comforting.

I went up the staircase and into my room. Setting my books on my desk, I turned to the far corner of my room. There was nothing there, just a faint trace of dust particles dancing in the afternoon sun, but still I shivered.

I squinted my eyes, straining to see something, anything, but there was nothing. Stepping into the center of my room, I starred up at the ceiling.

“Are you there?” I whispered.

Nothing.

I turned in a slow circle, waiting for something to happen. Only minutes passed before I began to feel ridiculous.

“Okay Becca,” I said to myself. “It was only a dream, time to move on.”

I laughed at the absurdity of it all and walked out of my room, closing the door behind me. I felt a little saner as I walked toward the staircase, telling myself over and over that it was just a dream.

With that settled, I could let my mind wander back to the really important detail of the day. Jonah Ericson spoke to me! I almost skipped down the stairs.

My footsteps echoed as I went from room to room looking for my dad. I didn’t see him anywhere so I went into the kitchen to get a soda. Taking a can from the plastic cooler on the counter, I opened it and took a few long gulps.

Standing at the sink, I looked out the window into the backyard. Off in the far left corner of the yard was my dad, carrying a notebook and walking through what appeared to be the overgrown remnants of a rose garden.

That part of the yard held only ragged patches of grass with the branches of rose bushes blocking paths here and there. Across the back, near the property line were tall trellises, leaning under the weight of the climbing roses. It was beautiful, but wild and unkempt.

It came to me in a jarring flash, the thick scent of roses in the air and heavy metal pruners in my hand. It was so foreign to me, but to that other me, it seemed so natural and right, like this was something I did often. Someone was in that garden with that other version of me, saying something that made me turn to him.

In that tilting moment, I brought my hand up to shield my eyes from the sun. I was trying to see the man that stood in the garden with me, just as the face was coming into focus it was distorted again, this time by a pair of radiant blue eyes.

Everything blurred then as if I was spinning in circles. I couldn’t breathe! I dropped my soda and clutched the porcelain sink with both hands.

What was
that
?

I looked down at the sink where my soda can lay on its side, the contents foaming down the drain. I gasped for air, my skin clammy, as my teeth began to chatter. What was happening? Was I losing my mind?

My pulse was racing, making my blood roar in my ears. All of a sudden my throat was tingling and tight. I wanted my mother. I wanted my old life.

I heard Dad stepping up to the screened porch, scraping his shoes on the edge of the concrete. He opened the wooden screen door and let it slam behind him with a bang. I dried my eyes with shaking fingers and washed the remnants of my soda down the drain.

“Home already?” he asked as he came through the kitchen door. “How was school?”

“It was fine.” That was all I could say without the shrill note of panic creeping into my voice.

He tossed his notebook on the table and clapped his hands together. “You ready for me to start dinner?”

He sounded so cheerful, too cheerful. My mother was always the one taking care of the domestic chores. It really saddened me to see him trying so hard.

“Sure.” I said even though it was way too early for me to be hungry yet. “What’s for dinner?”

“Pork chops and mashed potatoes.” He answered as he pushed me into a chair. “Just sit there, relax, and talk to me while I work.”

I felt self-conscious sitting there and doing nothing while he worked. I watched him move from the plastic coolers, to the sink, to the stove, and grappled to think of something to talk about.

“So, when are they delivering the new refrigerator?” I finally asked.

He coated the pork chops in flour before dropping them into the sizzling skillet. “Tomorrow I hope. That will finish up everything in here and I’ll be ready to move on to the outside.”

“Is that why you were out by the roses?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

He poured a little milk into the potatoes and worked at mashing them. “Yeah, that rose garden is over a hundred years old and it’s in sad shape. I’ve got a landscaper coming tomorrow to take a look at it and the other gardens out back and to do some fine tuning on the front.”

“One hundred years old,” I repeated, remembering that spinning feeling. “Really?”

“I’m boring you,” Dad stated, completely misinterpreting my tone. “So tell me what the school is like? Made anymore friends?”

“Well, Ally is in my English class and she introduced me to Billie. They were the two girls that were here last night. That’s all I’ve actually met.” With one amazing exception, but I wasn’t about to discuss Jonah Ericson with my dad.

He pulled plates out of the cabinet and silverware from the drawer. “It just takes a while. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“I know I will,” I said with a smile to reassure him. “It’s just very different from what I’m used to.”

Dad filled our plates before bringing them to the table. “Yeah, small towns work a little differently.”

“How so?” I asked, taking the plate he offered, surprised by how delicious the food looked and smelled.

“Well,” Dad said as he got both of us a soda from the cooler. “They can be a very accepting place.”

I took the soda he offered and opened it. “Yeah, I noticed that, there are not really any cliques in this school. Everyone seems to know and like everyone else.”

Dad laughed, “Don’t let it fool you. Small towns can also be very critical of anyone that’s different.”

“Why is that?”

He shrugged, “I guess it’s just because since everyone knows everyone, there’s no way to keep a secret.”

I remembered my possible status as the new crazy girl if Ally and Billie decided to turn on me. I felt a little sick to my stomach and couldn’t finish my delicious dinner.

We were mostly silent for the rest of the meal. I cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher while Dad went into the other room to watch television. I went upstairs to do my homework.

I was deep into
Hamlet
when the phone rang. I jumped to get to it on my night table before it interrupted my dad’s news program.

“Hey,” Ally’s voice echoed over the line. “You took off so quick after school we didn’t get a chance to talk.”

“Sorry, I had something I had to do.”

“It’s okay.” She replied. “It’s just after what you said this morning and at lunch, I wanted to make sure that you were alright. Are you okay?”

Was she just being nice as a way to trick me or was she really concerned?

“I’m okay.” I said with a nervous laugh.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I guess it was just a dream.” I offered up as an excuse. “It just seemed so real that I guess I got confused.”

“Hey, it happens.” She said. “You know once I dreamed that me and Billie had a huge fight and it was lunchtime before I figured out for sure that it was just a dream. So yeah, they can seem pretty real sometimes.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. The possibility of me being the new crazy girl was fading away.

“It did seem real,” I confessed. “But I’m okay now.”

“Glad to hear it.” Ally chirped. “I’ve got tons of homework, so I’ll just see you at school tomorrow.”

I got off the phone with her and went back to my homework, finishing up just as it was starting to get dark. Rather than go back downstairs, I decided to take my shower and call it an early night. After so much tension thanks to my hallucination the night before, I was exhausted and ready to go to sleep.

Maybe I’ll dream about Jonah Ericson, I thought as I settled down for the night. Laying there in the darkness, removed from the awe of his presence, I felt so very ordinary. It was so pathetic and predictable, me liking him, a stupid schoolgirl crush.

It took me a long while to fall asleep that night. I lay awake listening to the creaks and groans of the old house, willing sleep to come. That was the night the dreams began.

In my dream, I was in the rose garden and it was late afternoon. I wore a long full, skirt. I could feel the weight of it swirling around me as I moved. I lifted my skirts, noticing the white undersleeves covering my arms, and followed the mossy stone path back to the far corner of the garden where the roses grew rambling and wild.

The setting sun didn’t reach this part of the yard and the tall back hedges blocked out the afternoon light so that the shadows had already taken hold of the garden. It was cooler here and the crickets were already chirping.

I breathed in the early evening air, pungent with the scent of the roses and summer honeysuckle. Life was good. It was always good here.

From behind came strong male arms to hold me close. I didn’t scream. Whoever this was, I welcomed his touch.

I turned to face this man, but a random ray of setting sun was in my eyes blinding me. I caught a fleeting glimpse of his piercing blue eyes before his lips covered mine.

His kiss bruised my lips but left me craving more as he nibbled at my neck as his fingers pulled at the buttons of my dress. My naked skin was helpless against him as his kisses left my flesh burning. All too slowly this man moved back up to my lips. I was starving for the taste of him as he lowered me to the soft earth.

I woke up panting, filled with yearning, and longing for something I couldn’t name.

“Do you still believe that I am only a dream?” A voice asked in the darkness, soft and beseeching.

I sat up in bed, clutching the blankets to my chest and searching the darkness for the source of the voice.

He stood in the corner, starring out from the shadows with brilliant blue eyes. His voice was so raw and emotional, tempting me even as I feared it. His perfect face was so very human, appearing sad and wounded.

I couldn’t believe it. Just when I convinced myself that I imagined everything, he was back. His face perfect and so real, I could see the faint shadow of stubble on his cheeks. I could even see the lines of his sensual lips.

The light from my window played upon his ghostly form, falling upon his white shirt and open suit vest. The texture of the clothing so very different from whatever it was that made up his body.

I was shaking, trying to make myself focus completely on him. He was tall and lean, but with a muscular cut to his arms where his shirt was rolled to his elbows. His hair was a light brown, almost bronze, and mussed as if he had just ran his hands through it.

The fear was overwhelming, squeezing me tight. “Who are you?”

His blue eyes were unwavering, his voice seductive. “Do you not recognize me, my love?”

I felt a scream rise in my throat and hang there, making it difficult to breathe. His lips barely moved when he spoke, but yet his voice was clear and strong.