Tortured Souls (The Orion Circle) (20 page)

“My parents are out of town, remember? Your dad said I could stay here as long as we aren’t alone at night,” Logan says with a low chuckle. “Like we turn into hormone crazed monsters once the sun sets.”

“Sorry,” I mutter, imagining the
talk
Dad and Gavin probably had with poor Logan. My cheeks heat up and I’m grateful for the darkness.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” I can hear the laughter in his voice. “Dr. Hayes said to have you take one of these pills if you woke up before one.”

I take the pill from his fingers. “I’m heading to the bathroom. Be back in a few minutes.”

Racing from the room, I dart down the hallway, not breathing until the bathroom door is locked behind me. I flick on the light, grimacing at my disheveled state in the mirror. My hair is sticking up and out in so many different directions, I look like I stuck my finger in a light socket. With a sigh, I brush my teeth and swallow the tiny orange pill. Well, at least I’ll know by morning whether Logan really likes me or not. If he doesn’t run away screaming at my morning appearance, then nothing will scare him away.

“I feel guilty,” I mumble while we wait in line at the bagel shop. “This is dangerous and I just dragged the entire Circle into it.”

“Dangerous is kinda what we do,” Logan murmurs back. “Besides, we had already accepted this Foxblood Manor case before you even joined.”

“Coincidence?”

“More like providence or fate, depending on what you believe.” He stops talking when we reach the counter to address the clerk. “We’ll take two of the dozen specials plus an assortment of cream cheese.”

“I can’t help but feel bad anyway,” I say when the clerk leaves to fill the order.

“You’re bringing breakfast,” he replies with a laugh. “The guys at least will love you forever.”

“Can bagels really cancel out a ghostly homicidal maniac?” I ask, glancing up at him with a grin.

“You’re right,” Logan says with a groan. “Should’ve got doughnuts.”

My laughter comes out an embarrassing snort. That’s what I get for trying to hold it in. After paying for my bribe to the Circle, Logan and I carry the bags out to the Mustang. My mind wanders as the neighborhood flies by in a blur. We pass an elementary school, and for a brief moment I feel a pang of regret while watching the children race around on the playground. Was there ever a time when I was that innocent?

“Hey, I need to ask you something,” Logan says, startling me from my reverie.

“What?” I ask when he remains silent.

“It’s kinda last minute and all, but the Southern Texas chapters of the Orion Circle have a Samhain Gala every year,” he says while twisting his hands on the steering wheel. “This year it’s at the Hyatt on the River Walk the Saturday before Halloween.”

“A gala?” I ask when he doesn’t continue.

“Uh, yeah, it’s like a formal dance. It’s a reward for a year of hard work,” he says as he pulls into the driveway of the Kincaids’ house. “Would you go with me?”

“Yes,” I reply, nodding like a fool. At least I managed to contain my squeal of excitement. “It sounds like fun.”

“Great,” he says with what sounds suspiciously like a relieved sigh. “Are you ready for the meeting?”

“I’m nervous and scared, Logan,” I reply, the high I was feeling just a moment ago fading in the face of reality. “But, I doubt we could hide out here.”

“C’mon, Kacie,” he says, opening the door and unfolding his tall frame from the seat. He grabs the boxes of bagels from the backseat. “You got the cream cheese?”

Without a word, I hold up the bag of cream cheese. Logan sets the boxes on the hood of the car and pulls me into his arms. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I rest my head against his shoulder.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs. “I promise.”

“I hope you’re right.”

He gives me a tight squeeze before pulling back and kissing my cheek. “I am,” he says, giving me a cocky grin that makes my heart flutter. “Let’s go inside.”

We are among the first to arrive, and I busy myself by helping Mrs. Kincaid prepare the continental breakfast spread. No one asks how my night went, in fact, the conversation is light and about as far away from the paranormal as possible. I sit on a stool leaning against the granite countertop peeling and sectioning oranges.

Mundane. Normal. Yet the light conversation surrounding me seems forced and wrong.

Without missing a beat, I move on to slicing apples. My ears fill with the sound of the knife hitting the cutting board, blocking out everything else. When Michelle takes the knife from my hand, I jump in alarm.

“God, Michelle,” I blurt out in a startled gasp. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I called your name three times,” Michelle says, setting the knife on the counter. With a shaking hand she runs her fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around you. Though they mean well, it seems to be setting you more on edge.”

“It is,” I reply sighing. “I expected to be bombarded with questions the moment I arrived. When it didn’t happen I was relieved, but that relief quickly morphed into something else.”

“Anxiety,” Michelle says, nodding her head. “I’m picking up tons of anxiety… but also elation.” She chuckles under her breath, “Shall we talk about what’s causing that?”

“I don’t know,” I say, unsure if I want to share my feelings.

“Ah, come on,” Yolanda says as she bounces into the room and grabs a handful of apple slices. “I just got rid of the guys for a while. I already know I missed a ton when I stayed in Austin instead of returning with Daniel. Spill it.”

“If you don’t talk, I will,” Rebecca says with an evil grin. “And I have so much ammo against you and Logan.”

“
Ugh
, all right,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Logan asked me to be his date for the Samhain Gala. He was all nervous and adorable.”

“What did you say?” Yolanda asks, boosting herself up to sit on the counter.

“What did you say?” Rebecca parrots with a snort. “One weekend, Yolanda, and you miss out big time.”

“Yes,” I whisper, staring at the fruit sitting on the cutting board. Grabbing the knife, I start cutting the apples again. “I said yes.”

“And then she threw her arms around his neck and gave him a passionate kiss,” Rebecca says with a squeal.

“That didn’t happen,” I say, feeling my cheeks heat.

“You should’ve seen them Friday night,” Rebecca says with a sigh. “The way he rescued her with a kiss—totally swoon-worthy.”

“Wait, how do you rescue someone with a kiss?” Yolanda asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

“He distracted her enough to keep the spirit from possessing her,” Rebecca says, sounding a bit defensive. “It was one of the most romantic things I’ve ever seen.”

“All right, girls,” Mrs. Kincaid says as she pushes Yolanda off the counter. “We need to get this breakfast out and start the meeting. There’s lots to do today.”

“Dress shopping later,” Rebecca says with a wide grin. “Ryan asked me.”

“Who’s Ryan?” I shout my question through the almost deafening squeals.

“Just like the hottest guy in the New Braunfels Circle chapter,” Rebecca says, wringing her hands. “I have to find the perfect dress. We only have like…” She pauses, staring at her hands. “Oh God, only twelve days!” she screeches when she looks back up.

The sheer panic in her eyes almost makes me laugh. Almost. Unfortunately, I share both her excitement and nerves. I grab the tray of bagels and follow the others into the family room. Twelve days to find the perfect dress… I better text Celia.

Chapter Twenty — Unburying the Past

Chapter Twenty

Unburying the Past

While nibbling on a cinnamon bagel, I try to avoid the knowing smirks from Yolanda and Rebecca. I refuse to let them influence my behavior, so I remain seated beside Logan on the large sectional sofa, our legs touching. As if I don’t have enough to worry about, now I have two girls scrutinizing my every interaction with him. A dull ache throbs in my temples, and I flop back against the sofa with a heavy sigh.

Mr. Kincaid has been holed up with Devon and Carl for over half an hour. As much as I enjoy missing school, I wish we could just get the meeting started already. It’s not like my life is on the line or anything. That morose thought leads to grotesque visions of exploded brains oozing out all over the place.

My stomach roils, and I devour the remaining bagel in the hopes it will settle my upset stomach. Please don’t let Dr. Hayes show up with autopsy photos. I’m pretty sure I’ll lose it if I have to see the pictures. Knowing what happened is bad enough.

“All right, we finished putting together the photos and information on Yardley’s thirteen victims,” Mr. Kincaid says, entering the room with a grim look on his face. Haunted. “I’m warning everyone now—the photos Yardley took of their murders are gruesome, vile, just awful. No one has to look at these.” His last sentence is directed at me. Unfortunately I’m the one person in the room who has to look.

“We’ll do it together,” Logan murmurs. He takes my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Part of the process to move these spirits on is to acknowledge the awful trauma they endured. To let them know we may not understand, but we care.”

“Still, we all don’t have to see them,” Daniel says, his gaze flying to Rebecca and Yolanda huddled together looking scared and ill. “Logan, you and I should be enough to help the spirits.”

“I need to see them too,” I say in a hoarse whisper.

“Are you sure, Cici?” Daniel asks with a grave expression. “Mr. Kincaid has seen lots of this stuff, and he looks ready to scream and pull his hair out. No offense, sir.”

“None taken,” Mr. Kincaid replies in a soft voice. “It’s bad, no doubt. Worse than anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“I have to do this,” I say, thinking of the trapped spirits. “They need me.”

“Okay then, Logan, Daniel, and Kacie will go through these files,” Mr. Kincaid says, rubbing his chin with his fingers. “Anna, you Michelle and Devon should go help Dr. Hayes with her research trying to find that illusive connection between our Halloween victims. Yolanda, Rebecca, and Carl, I want you to hit the internet and find everything you can about Lucas Yardley and his cult. I have the other members on call. If you need help contact them directly.”

“When are we going back to the manor?” Mrs. Kincaid asks in a low murmur as she wrings her hands in her lap.

“This afternoon I’m taking Kacie, Logan, Daniel, Rebecca, and Carl with me to the manor. We’ll be out long before dark,” Mr. Kincaid says, pausing to see if anyone objects. “Tomorrow it’s back to school, so get as much done today as possible.” He glances at his watch. “It’s eight-thirty now. We’ll meet back here for lunch at twelve-thirty. Sound good?”

No one utters a reply, but there are nods all around. The overall mood has gone from playful to somber since Mr. Kincaid appeared looking so haggard. Everyone gets up and starts moving around, heading to their assignments. I stay rooted to the sofa, unable to move. I don’t think I’m ready to face actual pictures of the gruesome deaths of Yardley’s thirteen victims. Then again, I doubt they could be much worse than what I’ve already seen in the visions.

“I think we should take these into the study,” Logan says, glancing at the stack of colorful files. “I don’t want anyone stumbling in while we have the pictures spread out.”

Logan holds out his hand, pulling me up from the sofa when I place my hand in his. He doesn’t let go on the short walk to the study, and I’m grateful for the comfort. I watch Daniel’s stiff back as he opens the door to the study. It makes me sad to see this carefree guy so upset and agitated.

The study is lined with bookcases. A desk with a Mac sits up against the window, the only furniture other than the bookshelves. Daniel drops to his knees, spreading out the colorful file folders on the floor. They look garish atop the pale cream-colored carpet.

“I want to know why thirteen,” Daniel says after Logan and I settle on the ground beside him. “Nut-jobs like Yardley have a reason for everything. Why thirteen and why these thirteen. Understanding what makes these victims special may help find his weakness.”