Tortured Souls (The Orion Circle) (9 page)

“She confessed to me a couple years ago,” Gavin admits so softly it’s almost inaudible. “I can’t say I really believed her, but she knew things she shouldn’t have known.” He looks over at me, his eyes filled with barely disguised anguish. “That’s when I stopped going to visit her unless Dad forced me to. I was so angry for what she did to you, Kacie.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, my voice choked with emotion.

“By that time, you weren’t showing any signs you still saw the ghosts,” Gavin says with a melancholy smile. “Dad was finally happy again, and I didn’t want to dredge up the past. I thought maybe whatever made you see ghosts had disappeared. I’m sorry. You hid it so well. I didn’t realize you were suffering.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and looks up at me. “Are you ready?”

When I nod he looks her up in his contacts. She’s not on his favorites list. For some reason that simple fact leaves me feeling a little bit better.

“Mom, we need to talk,” he says. His words are followed by several seconds of silence. “She won’t talk to you, and I don’t blame her. Tell me about your vision and I’ll relay the information.” He’s silent again while he listens to the woman on the other end. “I’m sorry, Mom, this makes no sense to me. Would you consider talking to Kacie’s friend, Logan? He’s psychic, so he’ll probably understand.” He hands the phone to Logan.

“Hello, ma’am,” Logan says as he gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Please just tell me the entire vision from beginning to end. Don’t leave anything out.”

I can hear her voice since my head is resting on his shoulder, but I can’t quite make out the words. Logan places his index finger against his lips then puts her on speaker.

“…seem like such a nice boy. Kacie can be a strange girl, spends too much time talking to the dead if you ask me. Hopefully it doesn’t scare nice boys like you away.” She prattles on unaware we’re all listening. “My vision is weird, really weird. Kacie’s at this huge house with a group of people. There’s this evil man in a goat head mask. The goat man is holding thirteen lambs against their will. Kacie is the only one who can save those lambs. But she needs the golden angel or she won’t be able to drive away the evil goat man and free the lambs. If the lambs aren’t freed, their souls will suffer for all eternity.”

She pauses for a moment, and starts humming some unrecognizable tune.

“Is that it?” Logan asks.

“The angel has eyes and hair the same color, a golden-brown… like the whiskey in my glass right now.” She stops talking again, probably to drain her whiskey glass. “Even with the angel, Kacie is in danger. The goat man wants to use her body to return to the world of the living. He’ll do anything in his power to capture her and wrench her away from the golden angel. The vision always ends with Kacie and the angel fighting the goat man, but I never see the outcome. Oh, and tell Kacie I don’t care what her inner critic thinks. That color fuchsia is beautiful on her.”

Logan takes the phone off speaker.

“Thanks, ma’am,” he says in a polite tone. Just a hint of his Texas drawl comes out in the word ma’am. “Please call Gavin if you have any further information,” he adds before he passes the phone back to Gavin.

“Can’t talk now,” Gavin says into the phone. “Yeah, call if you see anything else. Bye.” He ends the call and stuffs the phone back in his pocket.

“That was by far the strangest thing I’ve ever heard,” Dad says, shaking his head. “I hate to say it but I think Jessica is hitting the bottle a bit too hard again.”

Fearing Dad is right, I glance up at Logan to see him staring across the room. His body is rigid and he appears deep in thought.

“So Kacie has to save some lambs from a goat man,” Gavin says laughing. “Oh and she needs Logan’s help to save the lambs.”

“Why Logan?” I ask confused.

“Well he must be the golden angel, right,” Gavin says like it should be obvious to everyone in the room. “He has golden-brown hair and eyes. Well, thanks to Mom, looks like you get to spend a lot more time with Kacie,” he adds with a snicker.

“Can’t say I’m complaining,” Logan murmurs, his lips curled into a small grin. “The evil man in the mask is most likely an evil spirit, perhaps demonic given the goat head. The thirteen lambs could be other spirits he’s holding captive, keeping them from crossing over—probably children. Of course your father may be right and she’s been hitting the sauce a little heavily. Who knows? We’ll just have to be careful.” His cell chirps and he pulls it from his pocket. “That’s my mom, I gotta go.”

He stands and walks to the front door. When I follow him out onto the porch, he stops and turns back to me. Several moments pass in silence. He continues to gaze at me while I desperately hope he’ll kiss me. Right now I want nothing more than to feel his lips on mine, my first kiss. Well first meaningful kiss anyway.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Kacie,” he murmurs before turning and walking to his car.

Hugging my arms around my body, I watch in silence as he gets in his Mustang and drives away. The chilly breeze cools my warm skin. I walk out onto the wet grass, the cold water on my bare feet forcing my mind to stay rooted in the present. The storm has passed taking the clouds with it, leaving the half moon and stars visible in the darkened sky. Gazing at the stars my mind fills with images of Logan. His citrine eyes, curly brown hair and his amazing smile. My heart flutters a bit as I think of what it would be like to kiss his full lips. With a wistful sigh, I head back into the brightly lit house and make my way to my room, hopefully to some very sweet dreams.

Chapter Nine — Ghost Hunt

Chapter Nine

Ghost Hunt

The days fly by with school during the day and three hour training sessions with Michelle and Logan in the evenings. Two sessions and I’ve already learned how to raise and lower a psychic barrier that keeps spirits out. I just can’t keep it up all the time or it starts to cause problems. By imagining the barrier as a brick wall, I’m able to block out all but the most stubborn spiritual energy. It will take time and practice, I know. But Michelle said I’m a quick learner and it’ll be second nature soon.

Learning to control my psychic walls is much easier than I expected. It seems I was doing it subconsciously when I was a child. Each time I yelled, “go away”, in frustration, I was actually throwing up a psychic block. If I hadn’t been so stubborn a year ago and refused to lower the barrier, I might be even better at this by now.

Every night the visions plague me—barrier or no barrier. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to block them out. Fatigue wears at me from lack of sleep. Were it not for caffeine, I’m not sure I’d survive at all.

Drama rehearsal this afternoon was brutal. Mr. Holmes was in rare form… nasty form that is. Nothing was done right, and he forced Daniel and me to stay an extra hour after the rest of the cast left. Between my “lack of anything resembling grace”, and Daniel’s “caterwauling”, I can’t help but wonder why we were cast in the first place. On the ride home, I cried—I actually cried in front of Daniel. I’m just grateful I didn’t cry in front of that asshat director.

Worst of all, Daniel wouldn’t leak a hint about my test tonight. After all we’d been through together at rehearsal, he kept his mouth zipped.

Rebecca, Daniel, and Logan are taking me out tonight for a
test
of my new control. They’ve all been so tight-lipped about it. I’m back to imagining animal sacrifices in a graveyard.

I drop my backpack and stare at my bed in longing. A glance at the clock shows there’s no time to even consider a nap. Daniel said he’d be back in less than an hour. Plopping on the bed, I devour the fried chicken I nabbed from the kitchen downstairs, washing it down with a diet soda. When I’m finished, I peel off my clothes and head for a quick shower. I swear I worked up more of a sweat at rehearsal today than at a cross country meet.

“Downtown?” I ask, staring out the window of Daniel’s SUV. “Come on, it’s time to spill. Where are we going?”

“Oh, here and there,” Rebecca says from the front seat. “By the time we’re through, I think it will be four or five places total.”

“Please guys,” I say, close to tears. “I can’t take this anymore. The visions are getting worse and I’m not handling life well right now. And after Mr. Holmes this afternoon…”

“Shh, Kacie, it’s going to be fun. I promise,” Logan says as he takes my hand in his, weaving our fingers together. “You’re going to love it.”

My stomach flutters. “Really?” I ask, staring at our entwined hands. If Logan plans to hold my hand tonight, then I think I can handle anything.

“Cici, I guarantee you a fun time tonight,” Daniel says, glancing at me in the review mirror. “And you were fantastic this afternoon, by the way. I think Mr. Holmes is having boyfriend trouble which is turning him into a monster.”

“So I didn’t have ‘elephant feet’?” I ask, cringing at the phrase the director used to describe my dancing.

“Hell, no,” Daniel says laughing. “Dancing may not be your strongest suit, but you’re still good. Besides, you have the voice of an angel.”

“Thanks, I needed that,” I murmur, smiling at his compliment. “And you didn’t sound like ‘an alley cat in heat’ either. You have a very nice baritone.”

“Thanks,” Daniel says snorting. “We’re taking you downtown for a ghost tour. You’ll love it.”

“Daniel!” Rebecca’s shriek makes me cringe. “You weren’t supposed to tell her.”

“Really? A ghost tour sounds like a lot of fun,” I reply, ignoring Rebecca’s outburst.

“It was my idea,” Rebecca says, turning in the seat to look at me. “I thought you’d have lots of chances to work on your shields with residual energy. Then Logan wants you to meet a ghost he thinks you can help.” Her gaze drops to the backseat. “And Logan’s holding your hand,” she adds in a squeal.

“It’s a great idea, Rebecca,” I say, trying to sound casual and normal. “I’ve never been on a ghost tour.”

“Forget that,” Rebecca says, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Are you two like officially together?”

“I-I don—” I mutter.

“I hope so,” Logan says over my stammering.

I glance at him, praying my face isn’t as red as it feels. His smile is breathtaking, and I sigh a bit under my breath. He seems to be waiting for an answer, but I don’t think my voice will work no matter how hard I try. I nod, giving him a shy smile while gazing at him from under my bangs. He squeezes my hand, caressing my thumb with his. Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back against the headrest, concentrating on the feeling of his hand holding mine. I never want this moment to end…

Opulence drips from every detail in this magnificent hotel lobby. The chandeliers alone are worth staring at. Dangling crystals send beams of colored light dancing all around. Plush red furniture with gold accents that should appear garish just helps create the turn of the century look. Our tour guide describes the grisly history of the Red Majestic Hotel, but I turn a deaf ear. So much tragedy—I can feel the icy tendrils of energy pulling at my mental block.

“Now we’ll head to the kitchen so you can see the spot where Chef Andre killed his
sous chef
with your own eyes,” the guide says in a dramatic, booming voice as he ushers the tour members to the back of the hotel.