Tortured Souls (The Orion Circle) (31 page)

“You did it,” Ellie says with a brilliant smile while watching the orbs flying around her. “We’re finally free. Thank you all so much. We can finally move on, away from the unending sorrow and pain.”

“Goodbye, Ellie,” I call out as her form begins to fade away. She lifts her hand and waves before fading into a silver orb that shoots up towards the heavens. “Rest in peace,” I whisper to the starry sky.

“Now to take care of Yardley once and for all,” Raven says, holding up the athame.

“Wait, let me hold that before you destroy it,” Daniel says, taking the dagger from Raven. Closing his eyes, he holds the dagger in both hands for several moments. “His soul is not bound to this athame.”

“What?” I cry, pulling away from Logan. “It has to be. We decided this was the only thing it could be bound to.”

“I’m sorry, Kacie, but this is just an ordinary athame with a very evil vibe,” Daniel replies, dropping the dagger to the ground. He brushes his hands together as though trying to rid himself of the taint. “I’m sure I’d feel it if his soul was attached. This athame was used in some heinous rites but that’s it.”

Despair creeps into my soul as I stare at the athame lying in the dirt at my feet. How will we stop Yardley now? I bite my lip when my eyes start to burn. Crying won’t solve anything. Leaning down, I pick up the object I was so sure would set me free from the Foxblood Demon. How could we have been so wrong?

“Kacie, don’t—” Raven yells, but it’s too late.

My fingers close around the warm hilt. The silver bracelet around my wrist reacts with violent shocks and pulses. I try to drop the dagger, but my right hand refuses to release it. With a pained cry, I grasp the dagger in both hands trying to wrench it from my grip.

“It’s stuck to my hand!” I cry out in alarm. “How is this possible? Help!”

“Logan, get away from Kacie!” Raven shouts when he reaches out to help me with the demonic blade.

Her warning is once again too late. The athame acts all on its own, slashing down Logan’s arm, tearing through the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket.

“No!” I scream, shaking my hands in an effort to dislodge the blade.

“I’m okay, it’s just a scratch,” Logan says, backing away from me.

“What’s happening?” I manage to choke out through the terror gripping me. “You said Yardley wasn’t attached to this thing.”

“A spell maybe…” Raven says, her eyes never leaving the curved, black blade. “It would be the darkest magic.”

Daniel grabs the blade and rips the dagger from my hands, slicing open his hand in the process. Without hesitation, he throws it into the raging fire. Blood gushes from the deep wound on his palm.

“Logan, take off your jacket,” Raven orders in a calm voice that belies the wild look in her eyes. After he drops the jacket to the ground, she grabs his torn sleeve and rips it from his arm. “Crap this isn’t going to be enough. Rip off your other sleeve.”

A loud ripping sound fills the air as Logan yanks off his other sleeve. I stand rooted in place, staring at Daniel, perhaps in shock, unable to move or offer help—just watching the blood gush from his injured hand. Raven balls up part of one sleeve and presses it to the wound while winding the other pieces around his hand. By the time she’s finished, Daniel’s hand is mummified beneath several layers of Logan’s shirt.

“This should stop the bleeding,” Raven says, staring at her bloody hands.

Logan peels off his shirt, handing it to Raven, and she wipes her hands on the white cloth. My eyes move from Daniel’s hand to Logan’s rather nice torso. The sight jolts me out of my stupor.

For a brief moment I’m torn. Part of me wants to run to him and lose myself in his embrace… to pretend none of this hell around us exists. The other part wants to get as far away as possible before I hurt him. My eyes move from his chest to meet his forlorn gaze. With a choked sob, I fall into his arms, resting my head on his shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay, Kacie,” Logan whispers against my hair.

“How?” I ask, pulling back to look at him. “I have no idea what he tied his spirit to… I should’ve listened to my mother.”

“Your mother…” Logan trails off, a thoughtful look on his face. “That’s it!”

“What?” I ask, perplexed at his sudden excitement. “What’s
it
?”

“I think I know what his spirit is tied to,” he says, placing his hands on my upper arms. “This is important. I need you to distract his spirit. He can’t know what I’m up to.”

“But how can I—” Before I can finish my question, the air around us grows frigid.

“Trust me,” Logan says. He kisses my forehead then runs off toward the house.

“He’s here,” Rebecca screams as she spreads the salt on the ground around Daniel in a large circle.

“Cici, run!” Daniel shouts, shooing me away with his uninjured hand. “If you keep moving, it’ll be harder for him to possess you.”

“I’m going to go help Logan,” Rebecca says, darting away with a frightened look on her face.

Gathering my long skirt in my hands, I jog around the side of the barn, relieved when the fierce cold I was feeling moments earlier fades. I’m stopped in my tracks when a misty figure appears in the darkness before me. Without a second thought, I run back the way I came, towards the flickering light of the fire. Daniel has collapsed to the ground, most likely from blood loss. Behind him Raven hovers, brandishing the iron poker at some misty wisps of… something. Whatever it is fails its attempt to cross the salt circle.

Not wanting to draw Yardley’s ghost to them, I run over to the house where the porch lights are blazing. As I round the corner, I realize the entire manor is lit up. It looks as though Logan flipped on every light switch he passed. I run past the open front door, out onto the gravel driveway. My lungs burn, and even with my cross country training I don’t think I can keep up this zigzag running much longer. After passing the parked cars, I stop to lean against one of the columns lining the wrap-around porch.

Several crows touch down on the railing next to me, staring at me with beady black eyes. The air grows cold, signaling the arrival of Yardley’s spirit. Frigid wind spirals around my body, rooting me to the spot. Panic seizes me when I realize I can’t move my limbs. One crow, the largest of the bunch, hops over next to me then lets out a loud
caw
.

Flapping black wings fill the air as the crows take flight. They swoop and caw, attacking the silvery outlines of Yardley’s phantom presence. I watch in amazement as the wispy shadow flees, heading toward the barn. Several crows chase it while the rest settle back down on the porch railing.

“Kacie!” I hear Logan shout behind me. “Are you okay? What happened? What’s with the crows?”

It takes several tries before I can speak. “I-I think, I mean… the crows… they—I think they just saved me from Yardley.” Logan takes my hand, leading me away from the porch and my unusual saviors. Glancing over my shoulder, I’m unsurprised to see the remaining crows watching my departure. “Thank you,” I call out to the birds. Several ruffle their feathers and spread their wings.

“That was weird,” Logan says, pulling me towards the barn. “Do you have a natural affinity with animals?”

“I love animals, but that’s about it,” I reply still confused about what just happened.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me if I found it?” Logan asks with a brash grin.

My heart leaps. “I take it by your expression, you did.”

“Thank your mother for this one,” he says holding up a hideous goat mask. I reach out to touch the strange looking thing. “I never would’ve thought of this mask if she hadn’t mentioned it. I think the hair on it is Yardley’s.”

“Eww, gross,” I say, pulling my hand back in disgust. “I almost touched that
thing
!”

“Hair is technically a body part,” Logan says, holding up the goat mask. “See it could only be the athame if it had his blood on it or was made from his bones.”

My spirit soars when the burn barrel comes into view. Only a few more steps and this nightmare will be over for good. One moment Logan is beside me, running toward the barn, the next he’s gone. I turn to see him fly through the air, skidding to a rough landing in the gravel. The mask flies from his hand as he hits the ground and is snatched by a white wisp of smoke. Yardley!

“Logan, are you okay?” I ask when I reach his side.

He groans and sits up. “Crap—that hurt like hell!” He groans, massaging his shoulder.

“You’re covered in road rash,” I murmur as I look him over.

He landed on his right side, and his entire shoulder, arm and upper back are covered in gravel. When I try to tend to his wounds, he knocks my hand away.

“I’m fine,” he says, pushing himself to his feet. “We need to get that mask back.”

“Yardley took it,” I say, allowing Logan to pull me back to my feet.

“Where?”

“I don’t know. At the moment I was more worried about you.”

A loud cacophony of
caws
echoes all around us. I look up and my jaw drops. Dozens of crows fill the night sky. Black feathers rain down around us from the fighting birds. They take turns swooping at Yardley’s wispy phantom image, battering what seems to be an invisible shield. Silver mist wraps around the goat mask protecting it from the birds. Logan and I stand transfixed, confused and unsure what to do.

Though the phantom mist puts up a fight, it isn’t long before the unending stream of birds knocks the mask from his spectral grip. It falls to the ground several feet away. Before I can get the message from my brain to my legs to run, Logan snatches the mask from the ground and tears off toward the barn.

The spectral mist abandons its fight with the crows and descends on Logan. Yardley’s spirit plows into him, sending him skidding toward the barn. I watch in horror as he slides along the ground on his back, losing his grip on the mask when his arm slams into the gravel. It flies through the air, landing just a few feet from me. Yardley’s spirit races toward the mask, but I snatch it up, hugging the foul thing against my chest. Logan rises from the ground, shouting at me to get the mask to the burn barrel.

After only two or three steps, something grabs my arm, stopping me. Silver mist winds around my body, squeezing the air from my lungs like some ghostly boa constrictor. I fight against it, but my hand passes through the mist. There’s nothing to grab, no way to stop the phantom as the mist tightens around my entire body. The crows swoop around me, but even they realize there’s nothing they can do to stop this ghost from squeezing the life from me.

Glancing up, I see Logan running toward me. Yardley will not get this mask. He can kill me, but he won’t exist afterward to harm anyone else. Drawing on the last of my strength, I curl my arm toward my body and throw the mask to Logan like a macabre Frisbee. He catches it in one hand, his gaze darting between me and the fire.
Go
, my mind urges him. After one last look at me, he turns and races toward the burn barrel.

I fall to my knees, gasping for breath. Black spots dance in my vision until I see more black that anything else. When I suck in a tiny breath, the phantom tightens his hold. It’s a vicious cycle repeated over and over. Tears fill my eyes, spilling over my eyelashes. My hands scrape against the rough gravel as I fall forward. I try to call out to my friends, to anyone, for help. My plea comes out a raspy wheeze as I collapse to my side.

I lift my head in time to see Logan throw the mask toward the dancing flames. Blue sparks fly and loud crackling
pops
fill the air as the fire engulfs the demonic relic. The Foxblood Demon roars in fury, and his hold around my neck tightens. Darkness washes over me. I give in to it, floating away to a safer place within myself.

Chapter Thirty-Three — Reflections & Revelations

Chapter Thirty-Three

Reflections & Revelations

My latest brush with death put Gavin into overprotective mode again. It’s been three days since that awful night. I was told I almost died, that Logan saved my life with CPR. My memory is patchy at best, and I think it’s better that way. I remember saying goodbye to Ellie and watching the children move on… but everything after that is foggy. Black feathers, silvery smoke, and pain. Crushing agony. A shudder courses through me, and I shut down that train of thought. Every time I try to remember, it’s the same torment, like my brain is melting or something.

Sweet Gavin has hovered over me for the last three days, acting like a mother hen. The theater room is just down the hall from my room, maybe twenty or thirty steps. And yet Gavin insists on carrying me like I’m some sort of invalid. Arguing accomplishes nothing so I keep my mouth shut. He places me on the chaise end of the sofa and fusses with my blanket. Rolling my eyes, I allow him to tuck the blanket around my legs. I have no intention of rocking the boat in any way.

It’s been two days since I last saw Logan. I was in and out of consciousness—I remember him holding me in his arms but that’s it. I know Gavin snuck him into my room against doctor’s orders. That alone is reason to put up with my brother’s hovering.

“You comfortable?” Gavin asks in a muted tone.