The Guidance (16 page)

"I don't have an ounce of envy. Trust me. What you're doing is wrong. Dangerous, even."

Tell her what I'm saying
, Emily says in my head.

I obey without hesitation. "You have to be prepared when contacting the other side. You have to know who you're reaching out to and what you're doing and what you could possibly be up against. There's a certain amount of protection and blessing and prayer you do ahead of time so no one gets hurt. Did you do any of that, Courtney?"

She cracks one eye open and stares at me. For a moment, I think I've gotten through to her.

Finish ...

I fist my hand and shake it at her. "You have to be prepared for whatever spirit—confrontational, lonely, mischievous, angry—you might encounter. You're putting yourself and everyone else in this room in danger with your frivolous behavior. All for what?"

Courtney screams at the top of her lungs, bringing all eyes to her now. "Get out of my circle, Ghost Girl. I'll show you how it's supposed to be done."

There's a thick wall of energy moving through the room, something negative and angry surrounding my fellow students. Why can't people understand the danger Courtney is dragging them into? This isn't a game. But it is to all of them. Simply another fun thing to scare everyone on a Halloween night.

Jason and Clay enter the room; Jason reaches out for me. I take his hand as I step back from the séance circle, defeated. The air inside my lungs feels heavy, and I find it hard to lift my feet from the floor to walk toward him.

"Are you okay? I heard Courtney yelling."

"No, I'm not all right," I manage to say. "She's making a mistake, Jason, and she won't listen to reason."

He pulls me against his chest and kisses me on the forehead. "You have to let her mess up on her own."

"It's more than that," I say into his Batman suit. "Emily told me to warn her. She's luring evil in."

Jason's chest rumbles with his laughter. "I think it's a little late for a warning."

I look up at him. "I'm serious."

"So am I." He turns us toward the door. "Let's go. Hell with her and her games. Quit giving her the attention she's craving. It's a party. We're supposed to be here having fun."

Oh, except it's anything but.

Walking is a chore. It's like I'm slogging through wet sand on the beach. I'm helpless to stop any of this, although I know there's something ominous lurking in the shadows. I'm 100 percent sure of it.

Behind me, Courtney continues to call out to the spirits.

"What is she doing now?" I turn and see our hostess, Stephanie, standing next to me, staring ahead. "Is she conducting a séance?"

I nod.

Stephanie leans over and whispers to me, "Mom says we really do have spirits in this house. Courtney knows that too, 'cause she's spent the night over here before."

"The spirit of Ada Parry?" I ask.

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe others," she says. "Mom once had this medium try to contact spirits here in the house. She wouldn't let me sit in on it, so I don't know what-all happened other than the lady left the house in tears."

Before I can do or say anything, I see a shadow person move behind Courtney. The silhouette of a male is quite clear to me, and I wonder if anyone else can see it. Like a superslow-mo replay during a sports game, the shadow morphs into a clear figure: The small billed cap. The tattered blue uniform. The buttons on his coat, which remain shiny despite the wear and tear. Boots clotted with the red Georgia clay. And then his face appears in more detail. Irate, gloomy, eyes pinned on Courtney as she sways and chants and opens herself up.

I know this man. He's the one from my vision during Evelyn Crawford's reading. The same man who was speaking to Evelyn's ancestor Ada Parry. The same one whose ominous laugh knocked me off my game when I was searching out Delaney Lockhart at the carriage house next door. He lurks on this property. He's connected here.

The soldier locks his hateful eyes on me and then snickers underneath his bushy mustache. The sound of his laughter echoes through my head again, causing needle pricks of pain to shoot up and down my spine. I'm helpless to move or speak or warn. All I can do is stand stock-still and watch as he glances down at Courtney in full faux-séance mode, nearly licking his chops.

Unbeknownst to her, he turns his back and then appears to sit on her lap; slowly, he disappears completely into her body.

She sits up with a jerking jolt. The soldier laughs. Only this time, the sound originates from Courtney's mouth.

With that, I scream like a banshee.

This time, I know Courtney's not acting.

And everyone knows that I'm not playing around.

She begins to thrash about on the floor, like someone's spilled hot coffee all over her. Both Mina and Sean try to let go of her hands, but Courtney's clinging on for dear life.

"Someone get my mom!" Stephanie screams out.

The music has stopped and people are swarming the room. Taylor pushes her way to where I'm standing with my hand over my mouth. Jason holds me tightly, waiting to see what he should do next.

"Call Loreen," I say to Taylor. Then I add, "And Father Massimo! We can't handle this alone. Wake them up if you have to!"

"I'm on it," Taylor says, whipping her cell phone out from her cleavage.

I don't even want to know.

I lift my skirt and literally crawl back into the circle. I kneel in front of Courtney with Celia at my side.

"What happened to her?" Celia asks.

"Something went into her."

"You saw it?"

"I saw
him
. We've got to talk her through this until help gets here."

"What if she's faking?"

"She's not this time, Cel."

I certainly don't know what to do for her. I'm not exactly qualified to do an exorcism or whatever is needed. God, what have I gotten into with all of this? How did it get this out of hand? I just wanted to use my psychic gift to help troubled and trapped spirits move on and to bring peace to the living. I never intended to have to intervene in a possession. Especially for the one person in this world who's making my life hell.

Courtney's eyes flutter open. "I'm famished. I haven't eaten in weeks on my way here."

"What?" Celia asks with her eyebrow lifted.

"Someone get her some food," I yell over my shoulder. I want to reach out and shake Courtney back to reality, but my intuition tells me not to do anything. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes, I hear you," she says. Her voice is deep and distant. Certainly not her typical high-pitched cheerleading tone. "Where is the rest of the unit? Why aren't they here?"

A guy laughs from behind me. "Dude, she's gone totally spaz."

"This is awesome!" another exclaims.

"We're here," I assure Courtney. "We're trying to help."

With the strength of almost three men, she shoves me in the chest hard, knocking me backward with a hard
thwwwaaack!
Ouch! That hurt!

"Who said I needed your help? You're the one who tried to stop me. When I was down by the river that time and when I was looking for supplies next door. You meddled."

My psychic headache taps at my cranium and it's then I realize that the Union soldier is speaking through her and it's not Courtney at all. Where has she gone? What has he done to her? I see her, scared and shaking somewhere in the corner of her own mind. I've got to get him out of her. Now!

Looking around, I see everyone is still holding hands, dazed by the happenings around them.

"Let go!" I beg. Words collide in my throat and I find it hard to put a complete sentence together fast enough. "Your hands. Drop them."

Everyone remarkably does as I say, and the energy in the room shifts abruptly.

The soldier screeches, "Damn you!"

Some guy from the basketball team passes Stephanie a fork and a plate of mashed potatoes and roast beef. Stephanie holds it out to Courtney. "Here's the food you wanted."

Courtney reaches out and begins scooping the food into her mouth, not even bothering to chew before she swallows. The fluffy white mixture smears all over her face, and gravy trickles down the front of her costume; she finishes and begins to lick the plate clean, like a starving dog.

I stare up at Celia, who shrugs in return. I wish I could tell everyone in the room what's going on, but it would only make them think I'm completely nuts, beans, and crackers.

"Do you want more?" Stephanie asks. Courtney tosses the plate at her and it breaks into ten pieces on the hardwood floor. "Crap! That's Wedgwood. My mom's gonna shit a brick."

"I think we have bigger problems," I say to Stephanie.

In front of me, Courtney begins to cry; mascara cascades down her porcelain cheeks, mixing with the remnants of food and totally ruining the perfect-little-princess effect she's been going for. A whimper escapes from her chest and I believe it's Courtney trying to break through.

"Come back to us," I instruct, hoping I'm doing the right thing.

The soldier is still present. His breath touches my neck. The stench of his life permeates my nostrils. His creepy mocking tone fills my head, bringing a deep-seated pain to my inner ear.

When Courtney peers at me, I see that her eyes aren't the normal gray color. Instead, they're dark and dilated and belong to the soldier inside. His laughter continues to knife away at my skull and I hear him whisper, "She invited me in."

"But she didn't understand what she was doing!"

Everyone in the room snaps around to look at me shout out to no one.

"Oh God, oh God," Courtney quivers out in her own voice. "Someone help me!"

Then the soldier takes over again. "I'm not going anywhere."

I want to take Courtney's hands, but Emily is suddenly fussing at me.

Never touch anyone who might be possessed by a spirit
.

Not knowing what else to do, I start praying for her. Hard. The hardest I've ever prayed in my life. I ask God to take this spirit from her and make him leave her alone. I mean, Courtney's a holy terror to me and has been treating me like dog shit since I stepped foot onto the RHS campus, but not even she deserves to be controlled by a 150-year-old ghost who apparently has an ax to grind.

A hand moves to my shoulder and squeezes. I know right away that it's not Jason but Celia. Calming, yet concerned. "Is there anything I can do to help, Kendall?"

"I don't know, Cel."

In my head, I ask the spirit his name.

Wouldn't you like to know?

Yes, I would
.

Courtney lunges forward at me and wraps an iron grip around my wrists. Jason moves in to stand up for me and restrain her, but she begins kicking her feet. Believe me, no one wants to get stabbed with those three-inch stilettos she's wielding. Next thing I know, I'm in a semi—wrestling match with Courtney and the Union soldier. I can't help but touch her now since she's trying to scratch my eyes out with her fresh manicure. It's not her at all though. The soldier is controlling her moves—although something tells me that inside Courtney, she's not doing much to fight him. Damn, he/she is strong.

"Cool, girl fight!" some guy shouts out.

"My money's on the chick from Chicago."

"Tillson, get in there and help your woman," another says.

There's laughter and cheering. These kids are sick. Or they think this is an act.

"What are you kids doing? Stop that!"

Evelyn Crawford moves in and tries to pull Courtney off of me. "I know it's Halloween, but there's no reason to act like hooligans."

"Mom, it's not Kendall's fault. Courtney's gone wack," Stephanie tries to explain. "She was doing this séance and then everything went crazy."

"A séance? In this house?" Miss Evelyn is not pleased.

Just then Taylor rushes in with Loreen in tow. Loreen's hair is all mussed and disheveled, like she just got out of bed. I wish I could appreciate the humor of her T-shirt, which reads "Jesus Is a Capricorn," but now is not the time.

"Did Taylor tell you what's going on?" I ask immediately.

Loreen nods. "Evelyn, these kids didn't know what they were doing. Let me help."

"Of course, Loreen." And Miss Evelyn stands aside.

Loreen brings out a small spray bottle from her purse— more than likely her magical blend of holy water and sage—and pulls me away from Courtney.

"There's a Union soldier in her," I whisper. "She's possessed."

"She's oppressed."

"What?" Semantics ... really? Now?

"I'll explain later," Loreen tells me and begins showering Courtney as she says the prayer to Saint Michael.

As if touched by molten lava, Courtney begins to twitch and squirm against the holy water, and then she collapses. Loreen continues to pray over her. I mean, Courtney's a bitch and all, but I don't want anything to happen to her just because she was trying to show me up.

While Courtney lies on the floor panting, I see the spirit of the Union soldier rise from her and stand tall, brushing at his uniform.

That was fun. I'll have to try it again
.

"Like hell you will!" I say to him—and everyone.

He tips his hat to me and then is gone.

In the background, kids begin clapping, hooting, and hollering.

Sean Carmickle carefully shifts on his bum leg and says, "Man, that was better than last year when Josh Waters puked up green beans all over the place. You sure put on a helluva floorshow, Stephanie!"

The room erupts with laughter and more applause.

I know this show's not over. Not by a long shot.

***

"Here, sweetie, have some water," Miss Evelyn says to Courtney in the front parlor, away from everyone. Courtney seems completely out of it. "I couldn't reach your parents on their cells, so you'll spend the night here with us. We'll get you cleaned up and you can borrow some of Stephanie's pajamas."

Courtney takes the water and drinks it down, nodding obediently.

I can't believe she'd want to stay in this house after what happened. Not me, man. I'd get the hell out of here as fast as my feet—or Jason's Jeep—could carry me.