Spiritus, a Paranormal Romance (Spiritus Series, Book #1) (7 page)

“Why are you here?” I demanded, panic starting to rise to the surface.

The apparition began to tremble and break apart. His voice came in a sweet caress, “I am here because of you.”

And he was gone.

Chapter 4

When my eyes opened the next morning, the world seemed no different.

It didn’t seem that it should be that way since I felt so different. I couldn’t explain it to anyone if I tried. I wasn’t really afraid. I wasn’t crazy. That thing had appeared again and this time it spoke to me.

Sitting up in bed, I looked around the room. There was no trace of my ghostly visitor.

Everything looked so perfectly ordinary. My books were sitting on my desk where I left them, my clothes were draped over the chair, and the bathroom door was slightly ajar. Everything was just like I left it.

How was it possible everything could look every bit as common as the day before?

I stretched my neck to examine the floorboards in the corner, they appeared normal and boring. The corner where the being stood was vacant in the morning light, but that was okay. I knew what I saw and heard.

It didn’t matter that nothing was in chaos. It didn’t matter there was no trace of the ghostly intruder. He was real, and he was there. I could feel him watching me from some invisible place.

“I know that you’re there.” I whispered.

I waited a moment to see if he would respond. The house creaked and groaned, but far off there was something else, almost like breathing, but not quite. It was almost an electric hum, but lower and more primal.

“I’m not afraid of you.” I declared to the empty air.

With some reluctance, I got out of bed and went into the bathroom to take a shower. I was a little embarrassed, not sure if an unseen man was watching me. I tried not to think about the possibility of a ghost seeing me naked. Many times while I was getting ready for school, I stopped and listened for some sign he was near.

Dad was already up and drinking coffee at the kitchen table when I came downstairs. After a quick “good morning”, he began making telephone calls to more contractors, speaking to me only between calls when he was dialing the next telephone number.

I didn’t mind his distraction. I was too preoccupied. I just kept thinking about what I saw and heard the night before, and how I knew for sure now that I wasn’t crazy.

The thing that I was seeing in my room was real. I saw him with my own eyes and heard him with my own ears. He was NOT a figment of my imagination.

I ate my cereal so fast that I barely tasted it. I was excited about the day. I didn’t have to worry about being crazy anymore and that was enough to improve my mood. Ghost haunting the house? That’s fine; just don’t let me be the crazy new girl.

Part of me knew that I should be concerned about this spirit that kept appearing to me, but I couldn’t make myself worry about it. I couldn’t make myself afraid of him. I wasn’t crazy, which was all that mattered.

Dad didn’t look up as I gathered my things and he gave me a distracted wave when I said goodbye. I didn’t let it bother me. He was wrapped up in his new project and it was good to see him excited about something. Mom would be pleased to see him so happy. I always pictured her still worrying about him.

We were in unchartered territory, Dad and me. In my life, he spent most of his time at work. I would see him for a few hours on the weekends and that was it, and then my Mom died. Now two years later, we were still familiar strangers unsure of what to say to each other.

I stopped in the hall and gathered my purse and books. The air was cool there, untouched yet by the sunshine coming through windows.

Flipping through the pages of my notebook, I felt a chill go up my spine. I turned and looked around the hall. There was a thick rug going the length of the hall and as I watched, it disappeared and the chandelier overhead was lit with candles.

Out of the corner of my eye, in the doorway of the office, I caught movement. My breath caught in my throat. I forgot that I wasn’t afraid. I backed against the wall, staring at the empty doorway, waiting for the spirit to show himself.

“Go away.” I demanded under my breath.

Minutes went by and nothing happened. The rug returned and the candles disappeared. I waited just a moment more and then with one last glance back, I left the shadows of the hall.

I stepped out into the sharp light of the morning and stumbled down the stone walkway. I told myself over and over I was not afraid of whatever it was in that house.

I calmed down on the walk to school and let my mind wander. Who was this spirit? What did he want?

It seemed impossible to me that me and my new friends had conjured him up all on our own, but yet, here he was.

I was just about to step off the sidewalk when I heard it, that seductive voice from the night before.

“Becca stop!” The voice commanded, urgent, and from nowhere.

It happened in slow motion, I could see so many details all at once and frozen in time.

Across the street, in the window of Magdalena’s Restaurant, was the reflection of a man, but there was no one there. The face was distorted, fearful and intense, and then the voice came again from unmoving lips.

“Do not move!” He ordered.

I saw it then, the white pickup speeding by. The sunlight glared off the bumper as it passed; close enough that I could feel the hot air of the exhaust. It was loud and solid as it went by—exactly where I would have crossed.

I froze, poised on the edge of the curb. I looked around me, waiting to see if anyone else had heard the voice. People were just going on about their daily routine as if they were unaware of how close I came to being annihilated.

Back across the street, the phantom was still in the window, staring at me with his entrancing blue eyes. I stood there gasping, unable to move, unable to do anything but look at him.

It was easier to see the vivid details of him in the light of day. He seemed tall, lean almost. His hair was a strange coppery brown and fell in reluctant strands over his intense blue eyes. He was younger than I first thought; making me think he must have only been a few years older than me when he died.

I shuddered at the thought and focused on the spirit’s eyes as the image started to fade. That voice from nowhere came again, teasing my ears and washing over me like a caress.

“My beloved.” It said and was gone.

I felt a scream pushing against the walls of my throat and my knees began to tremble. I told myself again that I was not afraid of him and walked the rest of the way to school in a daze.

In keeping with the spirit of the treacherous start, the day that followed was uneasy, embarrassing, and by the last bell eventful.

Its ridiculous routine and mundane classes kept getting in the way of my thoughts. While I knew what to expect from my day, I was still too new to not pay attention in my classes and what was going on around me.

Walking down the hall, a few more people said hello to me than the day before, but none of them actually went through the trouble of introducing themselves. I guess they figured after two days in the small school, I should know everyone’s name. I shook my head, some other day I would insult them by asking who they were.

English class was torture with Ally chattering away. I couldn’t concentrate long enough to put two cohesive thoughts together and that made it all too easy for the memory of that ghostly spirit to come rushing back.

While the teacher was going on and on about iambic pentameter and the thematic elements of
Hamlet
, I was remembering the handsome face in the shadows and the melodic voice.

I let my mind wander, giving myself over to it. I saw the man’s hands, slender but strong in the moonlight. My memory traveled up his forearms, the tendons and muscles appearing close under the phantom skin. I saw his shoulders, broad beneath the course fabric of his shirt. I willed myself to move up to his bare neck, browned by the sun. Almost there now, my memory traveled up to his face, so luminous and perfect, all the way up to the shimmering blue eyes.

I awoke with a start, slamming my hands down onto my desk. I hadn’t realized I had even dozed off and now everyone turned in their seats to look back at me, some of them smiling in amusement. Ally questioned me with her eyes, but I just shook my head so she would turn back around.

Wanting to sink into the floor, I apologized to Mrs. Temple and tried to focus and stay awake for the rest of the class. I looked down at my English book and fought the embarrassed tears welling up in my eyes.

Lunch should have been a relief, but it was no better.

I picked at my food, not really hungry and not really listening to my friends as they talked.

I should be like Billie and Ally, talking about boys, clothes, and other things that don’t matter. That should be what was on my mind, not the things that went bump in the night.

Ally waved her hand in front of my face.

“Becca, are you okay?” She asked.

I shifted in my chair, embarrassed I was caught daydreaming again.

“I’m fine.” I whispered.

Billie crunched her potato chips loudly, “You sure? You look kind of sick.”

“I’m just tired,” I explained. “I didn’t really sleep good last night.”

“More bad dreams?” Ally asked with a teasing smile.

I lowered my eyes to the table, “Something like that.”

I excused myself from lunch early, needing some peace and quiet before I had to pretend to be paying attention.

The door to my next class was unlocked, so I slipped in for some peace and quiet. According to the clock, I had another ten minutes before class started. I folded my arms on my desk and let my head sink down. Maybe if I sneaked in a quick nap, I’d be able to concentrate better for the second half of the day.

It wasn’t a deep sleep because I was still aware of the voices traveling up and down the hall. Still, it felt good to close my eyes and just drift.

I heard lockers slam outside the door and a pair of giggling girls walked by, but for the most part it was quiet.

My mind cleared a little as I rested there. The groggy sensation lifted enough that I wasn’t frustrated when I heard someone else come in the room; I just assumed it was getting close to time for the class to start. I still didn’t open my eyes.

“Are you okay?” A velvety voice asked in a hushed whisper.

“Yes.” I said, still not opening my eyes.

The velvety voice moved closer. “We haven’t had a chance to really talk that much yet.”

Who was this idiot that would not shut up and let me rest?

I opened my eyes and sat up with a start. Jonah Ericson sat across from me smiling with very even, very white teeth. I could only sit there staring at him with an open mouth, not the impression anyone would want to make.

“So you said your name is Becca,” he said with that easy smile. “Why aren’t you a Beckie or a full-fledged Rebecca?”

The sound of my name on his lips made my stomach flutter.

“I don’t know.” I stammered. “I’ve just always been a Becca.”

Another flash of brilliant white teeth, “I like it. It’s unusual.”

I shrugged my shoulders and dropped my eyes. I didn’t want to be unusual.

“So how are you liking Corydon?” He asked.

I looked up at him, knowing I should say something, but not sure how to make my mouth work. He was just too perfect to be talking to the likes of me.

“What do you mean?” I finally asked.

That perfect smile grew even wider. “It’s a simple enough question. Do you like Corydon so far?”

I dropped my eyes again; maybe it would be easier to speak if I didn’t look directly at him.

“Fine I guess.” I mumbled.