Tortured Souls (The Orion Circle) (10 page)

“This is where we leave you, Jeff,” Daniel says, passing a twenty dollar bill to our guide. “We’re heading up to room 208.”

“Always good to see you guys,” Jeff says, tipping his cowboy hat. “Y’all be careful up in 208. You never know what might happen in there.”

“No need to worry,” Logan says. “Keep us up to date on anything strange.”

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific than that,” Jeff replies with a grin. “Did you see that brunette cougar in the group? The one with the chest out to here,” he says, gesturing with his hands. “She actually squeezed my ass. Twice.”

“Let’s keep the reveal to the supernatural, Jeff,” Rebecca says through her laughter. “What you do with your tour groupies is your own business.”

“Sounds dreadfully dull,” Jeff says before heading off to his tour group. “Have fun in room 208, newbie,” he says over his shoulder.

“What’s in room 208?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

“A very temperamental ghost,” Daniel says, in a deep, spooky voice. “Kinda reminds me of that green slime ball in
Ghostbusters
.”

“We want you to try to convince this ghost to move on,” Logan says, taking my arm and leading me toward a bank of gold elevators. “Okay, now turn around and face the lobby.”

I turn and gaze at the empty lobby. Everything is quiet with the tour group gone. My eyes roam across the turn of the century décor. I wonder what Logan wants me to see.

“Now lower your wall,” Logan says in an excited murmur.

The moment my barrier is lowered I gasp in amazement. Spirit energy fills the large room—men, women, children, and even a dog. It’s residual energy, an imprint left behind all those years ago. I’ve never seen anything like this… ever. In a way it’s so beautiful watching the wispy white forms go about their business, oblivious to the passing of time.

“It’s amazing,” I murmur to Logan. “Are any of them aware?”

“No, I think it’s all residual down here now,” Logan replies with a grin. “It’s like the Haunted Mansion ride at Disney World.”

“I’ve never been,” I reply, watching the ghostly image of a hotel clerk pass through the man at the bell desk. He shivers and his head darts around before he shrugs his shoulders and returns to working. “I can see why so many people have experiences here. How did we manage to walk through the lobby without running into one of the spirits?”

“I didn’t,” Daniel says, crossing his arms. “I felt one pass right through me earlier.”

“I wish I could see them,” Rebecca says, her voice filled with yearning.

“Ready for the next surprise?” Logan asks.

When I nod he pushes the up button for the elevator. The car arrives and we step inside the mirrored box. A ghostly form hovers near the control panel. He’s wearing what appears to be a uniform with a small pillbox hat.

“Floor two, please,” Logan says to the spirit.

“Cool!” Rebecca says as the number lights up. “Did the ghost push it for us?”

“Yep, this one seems to be aware,” Logan says, eyeing the spirit. “Are you happy here or would you like help moving on?” The specter tips his hat before disappearing.

“I guess he’s happy here,” Logan says with a sigh. “I wonder how long he’s been operating this elevator.”

“Probably since the hotel opened and an operator was necessary,” Daniel says, running his hand over the control panel. “Hmm, he’s quite content here. I don’t think he really notices the passage of time.”

“That’s good,” Rebecca says shaking her head. “I can’t imagine spending both life and death operating a stupid elevator.”

A
bing
sounds inside the elevator, and the doors slide open. I follow my friends down a long, dim hallway. Each door we pass is painted bright red to match the ornate red and gold carpet. Electric sconces hang on the walls at even intervals. If they flickered just a bit, I could almost imagine it being one hundred years ago. We stop in front of a door with 208 on it in gold numbers. Before Daniel can put the key card in the lock, a maid appears rushing down the hall toward us.

“Oh, I think you have the wrong room,” she says, her breathing ragged from running just a short distance.

“Nope, 208 is the room we’re looking for,” Rebecca replies in a cheerful tone. “We’re paranormal investigators. It’s been cleared with management.”

“Oh, I see,” she says, shaking her head as though she disagrees. “I tried cleaning in there earlier and the TV remote flew across the room and hit me in the head.” She glances around the hallway. “Where’s your camera crew? Am I going to be on TV?” she asks while fluffing her graying hair.

“I’m terribly sorry but we are academic investigators, not entertainers,” Logan says with a hard edge to his voice. “These spirits are people just like you and me and don’t deserve to be exploited.”

“It threw a remote at me!” the maid says with her hands on her hips.

“We’re here to try to convince the spirit to move on to the next plane,” Daniel says as he swipes the keycard through the lock. “With any luck, you’ll never have to deal with her again.”

When he opens the door, a musty, stale smell wafts out. After one last fearful glance at the room, the maid scurries away in silence. I take a deep breath, choking a bit on the heavy air. Even without entering the room I can tell a spirit is here. An unhappy spirit based on the vibes rolling out the door.

“Wow, the hairs are standing up on my neck,” Rebecca whispers. “Is that the ghost?”

“Yeah, she’s not happy to be disturbed,” Logan replies before crossing the threshold. “Rebecca, you can stay out here if you prefer.”

“No way in hell am I missing this,” Rebecca says, her body shaking in excitement or fear, maybe both.

Logan holds his hand out to me. My stomach does a little flip as I place my hand in his. He laces our fingers together and pulls me into the room. Static electricity crackles around us, making my hair fly in all directions. Through the veil of hair, I see an apparition so solid she looks alive. Her yellow sundress is in tatters, torn at the shoulder and hem. Vivid red stains mar the sunny expanse of ripped cloth across her stomach.

Blood
.

“Do you see her?” I ask in a breathless whisper.

“Yes,” Logan replies, squeezing my hand. “Talk to her. Maybe she’ll listen to you. I think you two have something in common.”

“Okay,” I murmur, my eyes never leaving the girl.

Energy thrums along my arms, raising every hair. Releasing Logan’s hand, I walk toward the girl, watching in fascination as her long, dark hair flies around her. Her eyes are inky pools with no white visible. All in all, I think she’s one of the most terrifying apparitions I’ve ever seen in appearance. And yet, I sense only intense sorrow coming off her in undulating waves. This spirit is suffering terribly. She watches me as I lower my body to sit on the edge of the king-size bed. I fold my hands in my lap, trying to appear as innocuous as possible.

“Tell me your story,” I say to the spirit girl. “You’re suffering. I can help. Please share your story with me.”

“You would never understand the pain I have experienced at the hands of the woman who was supposed to provide care and nurture,” the spirit replies, turning away.

“You might be surprised,” I say in a calm, even tone. “Did your mother hurt you?”

“Yes.” Though she doesn’t elaborate, she does turn back to face me.

“My mother hurt me deeply,” I tell the ghost. My nose begins to burn which means the tears aren’t far behind. “Maybe not physically but mental anguish can be bad too. Just three days ago she reopened old wounds. My heart hurts just thinking about it.”

“Truly?” the girl asks, tipping her head to the side as though she’s contemplating my words.

“I know what betrayal feels like,” I reply with a deep sigh. “Tell me your story. You don’t belong here anymore. There’s no need to suffer like this. Please, let me help you.”

“My mother wed my stepfather when I was thirteen,” she says in a soft voice. The energy in the room spikes then dims when her shoulders sag. “Within a fortnight he was visiting me in the dead of night. He did things to me. Things that should only occur between a husband and wife. Horrible things—”

She shudders, crossing her arms over her chest. I don’t say anything… just wait for her to continue her tale. Her eyes meet mine, filled with tears, and I want nothing more than to hold her, to soothe her. She couldn’t be any older than I am. Without thinking I reach out to touch her shoulder, but my hand passes through her phantom image. I snatch my hand back, cradling my freezing fingers against my stomach.

“He visited me weekly for two years—threatened me with violence if I ever told a soul. Threatened to kill my m-mother.” She chokes the words out through gut-wrenching sobs. “One night my mother walked in while he was using my body…”

“What happened?” I ask when she remains silent.

“He told her I seduced him, that I was possessed by a succubus from Hell,” she says, flinging her arms around. Tendrils of icy wind billow from her fingertips. “She believed him. They locked me up in this very room.”

“I don’t understand,” I murmur, looking at Logan. “Why would they lock her up here?”

“This building was once used as a facility for tuberculosis patients,” Logan replies. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “It was also used to hide the less desirable people from society.”

“I was with child.”

“Oh, I see. I’m so sorry,” I say as tears spill over my eyelashes.

The monster got her pregnant and locked her away where she wouldn’t be a nuisance. I look at the red stains all over her dress. There’s still more to this story.

“Mother found out about the baby,” she says in a whisper. “She screamed that it was demon spawn and must be removed no matter the cost. She stabbed the baby through my belly. Over and over. Screaming. So much pain.”

“What’s your name?” Logan asks as he approaches inch by inch, like he’s afraid she’ll flee.

“Maria.”

“Maria, you’ve suffered enough,” I say, rising from the bed. “None of this was your fault. You are a victim and did nothing to deserve it. Move on to the next plane.”

“Will my baby be there?”

“I don’t know,” Logan says when I can’t find my voice. “But there’s only one way to find out. I’m sure whatever you find there must be better than the pain you feel here.”

“I can go?”

“Yes,” I say, firm and sure. “Rest in peace, Maria.”

My heart leaps when a tiny smile crosses her face. She stares off into the distance, perhaps seeing something we can’t. Whatever she sees makes her smile grow larger. Her image flickers and begins to fade away. Right before she disappears, she waves goodbye.

“You did it!” Logan says, pulling me into a hug.

Tears flow down my cheeks. Wrapping my arms around his back, I rest my head on his shoulder. I can’t help but smile through the tears. Helping Maria was fantastic. She suffered for so long, and I was the one who was able to get through to her. Right now my ability seems more a blessing than a curse.

Chapter Ten — Date Night

Chapter Ten

Date Night

I am so happy. I’ve been walking around with a ridiculous smile plastered to my face all day. Helping the spirit, Maria, move on was so rewarding. To think she suffered for decades, and I was the one who was able to help her rest in peace. For the first time in my life, I feel good about my abilities—like I can really make a difference. Of course it helps that I’ve learned to raise and lower my barrier with ease. As I step out of the shower, I catch a glimpse of myself in the steamed up mirror. Silly grin? Check. My grin fades when I open the bathroom door to utter chaos.

They say hindsight is twenty/twenty. Right now I’m wishing I had the foresight to see this decision for the disaster it’s turning into. When I asked Celia to come over and help me prepare for my date with Logan, I didn’t think it through. While I was blissfully unaware in the shower, Celia managed to empty half my closet and most of my dresser drawers onto the bed. I know the bed is somewhere underneath the massive pile of clothing, but there’s no sign of it beyond the comforter peeking out along the side. Shaking my head, I enter the room still towel drying my hair. Celia turns to me with a beaming smile.

“This is so exciting,” Celia croons in a melodramatic squeal. It’s obvious why she was cast as Juliet in the drama production. She was made for it—drama, that is. “You’re finally going on your first date and with a total hottie too.”

Rolling my eyes, I drape the damp towel across the back of my desk chair and stare at her reflection in the mirror.

“It’s not a date, Celia,” I remind her while watching her compare two skirts with a critical eye. It
is
a date, in my mind anyway, but something makes me downplay it aloud. “It’s an investigation for the club.”

I was relieved when Mrs. Kincaid told me it was okay to tell my trusted friends and family what the club does. It would be impossible to participate in investigations if I was forced to lie to Dad about where I was going.

“What could be more potentially romantic than a haunted house?” she asks in a dreamy voice. “A ghost suddenly appears and you jump into his strong arms for protection. Perfect.”