Twisted Sisters (The Orion Circle Book 2) (19 page)

MOVE! Though I order my body nothing happens. I try to lift my arm, to move my fingers… nothing. But my eyes, those I can move. Why? I try to open my mouth, but it’s frozen as well.

“We’ll start with a finger.”

I try to shake my head, to roll to my side and crawl away. Nothing. I can’t even whimper. A tear falls from my eye followed by more until my vision is blurred. He lifts my hand so that it’s in my line of sight. Before I realize his intentions, he slices through my index finger and middle finger with the knife. One swift motion. No pain. But only for a moment. Searing pain explodes from my hand, but I can’t react or scream. He stares into my eyes as though studying my reaction. Blood spurts from the stumps, coating my hand and arm.

“Hmm, can’t have you bleeding to death.”

He grabs a strip from the shredded pillowcase and wraps it around my upper arm. With a pencil, he creates a crude tourniquet to control the bleeding. The pressure builds on my arm with each twist of the pencil until it snaps. Relief floods through me as the awful pressure is released. Short lived. When he turns his back to rifle through the closet, I urge my deadened body to move. Nothing, not even a twitch. My heart rate slows as the drug takes deeper hold on my body. Maybe I’ll die, stop breathing. But no. My lungs continue to take in shallow breaths of air. The monster returns with a piece of wooden hanger and twists the tourniquet back in place.

“Now I’d like to know if the next fingers hurt the same, more, or less with the tourniquet in place,” he says as he raises my hand up again. “Perhaps you can answer my questions with your eyes. We have lots of fingers and toes to work with before moving on. So plenty time to practice our communication.”

I feel the knife cut through my ring and little fingers, but my eyes are too full of tears to see. I want to cry, to beg, but I’m frozen, unable to move or speak. Please let me pass out before he continues…

He wipes the tears from my eyes with a cloth. “Now, did that hurt more or less?” His brown eyes meet mine, and I try to look away but can’t. “Oh well, let’s try again.”

His wickedly sharp knife slices through my thumb, and he holds my hand in front of my face so I can see the bloody stump. More tears fill my eyes and fall down my cheeks. Please stop, oh please, God, help me! Please… please… please…

“Does it hurt more or less when you see the damage?”

I try to close my eyes, but even that small comfort is denied me as my eyelids refuse to obey. He moves on to my left hand, and I try to float away, to go somewhere else, but every slice of the knife brings me back…

Logan

I’m just about finished sifting through the rubble in the family room when Mr. Kincaid returns from outside. Violent crashes shake the ceiling. It sounds like something is slamming large furniture into the floor over and over. For a moment I’m torn. My gaze flicks between Mr. Kincaid and the hall leading toward the stairs. Mom appears beside Mr. Kincaid, shaking her head, having sensed my inner turmoil. Once again, I give in to duty though my heart screams to ignore my head and go after Kacie.

“There are four more kids in here somewhere,” Mr. Kincaid says as we enter the family room. “Blake found three upstairs. Those three and the two we just found are outside. They started as a group of nine.” Nine… just like the tarot card.

“Maybe they fled?” Mom suggests as she fusses over me, looking for new injuries.

“I’m fine,” I mutter.

“We’ll need to do a complete sweep, down here first, then upstairs.” Mr. Kincaid doesn’t wait for a reply and heads toward the kitchen.

“Wait!” My tone comes out harsher than I intended, but I really hate being left in the dark. “Why can’t Blake and Kacie sweep upstairs? Is she okay? What the hell’s going on?” My voice rises with each question. “I’ll kill Blake!”

“Stand down!” Mr. Kincaid yells. Though he tries to hide it, to remain professional, I can see the fear reflected in his eyes.

“Kacie…” I limp over the debris, making my way to the stairs as quickly as my lame knee will allow.

“Logan, you can’t help,” Mom says, grabbing my arm.

I wrench away. “Like hell I can’t.”

“Baby, you can barely climb the stairs.” Mom tries her soothing tone on me, but it’s a wasted effort. “Blake will keep her safe.”

“Where have I heard that before, Mother?” I regret the words the moment they leave my traitorous mouth. But the damage is done. Tears fill Mom’s eyes. “I-I’m sorry…”

“No, not now,” she says before covering her mouth with her hand. Her slight frame shakes as she fights back the sobs I know threaten to consume her.

“Mom, I—”

She stares at the floor and takes a shaky breath. “I know it’s been hard. Working with Blake, it bringing up memories. But you have to let it go. Neither of you were at fault. And now is certainly not the time to dig up the past.”

“We need you down here, Logan,” Mr. Kincaid says, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s finish our search and find those kids.”

I nod.
Keep her safe, Blake.

Chapter Twenty-Three — Building Tensions

Chapter Twenty-Three

Building Tensions

Kacie

I wrench myself from the vision, unable to stomach seeing any more. Coughs rock my body, and I curl up in a ball trying to fight the overwhelming nausea. As my mind clears a bit, I realize that I’m lying on the floor with Blake’s warm body wrapped behind me. I settle back into his warm embrace, biting my lip to stop my whimpers. The coughing subsides to be replaced by shivers. Blake sits up, pulling me with him so I’m cradled across his lap.

“Aww, the party was just getting started and you bailed,” Tracy’s spirit whispers in my ear.

I’m too spent to react. Good.

“Couldn’t stomach it, huh?” Her voice shifts to my other ear, and this time I can’t control the tremors betraying my fear.

“I…” My voice catches in my throat, so I just nod.

“What happened?” Blake asks, and I don’t know if he’s asking me, Tracy, or Chief Ken. “I thought it was just a vision.”

Ken answers. “Powerful physical mediums like Kacie can have very real visions. I’m guessing she saw at least part of Tracy’s murder. Probably felt it too.”

“But it was so much more than a murder, wasn’t it?” She directs the question at me, and all I can do is give a weak nod of my head. “Come, now, speak up.” Her fake, cheery tone is so at odds with what I just saw. My stomach roils again. No wonder the ghost is insane.

“Torture,” I murmur, burying my face against Blake’s shoulder as though that might erase the images I saw, what I felt. “Tracy received the professor’s full attention.”

“While sweet, innocent Angela watched… and did
nothing
.” Well I think that’s a bit of an overstatement considering the fact that Angela was bound and gagged.

A few deep breaths later and a bit of my composure returns. “I’m sorry. I know that’s inadequate considering the hell you experienced—”

She laughs, yet there is no humor at all. “Hell… yes. Did you know I relive the event constantly? I even have flashes of pain…”

“You need to know that Angela has suffered terribly as well.”

“Has she now.”

I realize my mistake when Tracy’s spirit darkens, turning into a wispy black fog. I should’ve focused on her longer, on her suffering. Angry energy crackles, raising the hair on my arms. What she experienced, just the brief glimpse into it that I had was overwhelming. Now she thinks I’m understating her ordeal.

“Please, Tracy, I’m not trying to—”

“I think you’ve said enough for now.”

A blast of frigid air rams into me. A tornado of swirling energy fills the room, picking up anything that isn’t heavy enough to withstand the wind. Blake’s arms tighten around me to the point of pain. I wrap my arms around his neck, hanging on with everything I have when that energy zeroes in on me. My hair whips around hiding my view of the furious ghost. The energy tugs at my body, trying to wrench me from Blake’s arms. But Tracy doesn’t know he isn’t an ordinary human. His arms remain steel bands holding me against his chest. The wind picks his body up a few inches and slams it back down, jarring every bone in my body.

“Blake, let me go before she hurts you.”

“Never.” We bounce a few more times then fly across the room, ramming into the wall. Blake takes the impact full on his back.

“Tracy, please, let’s talk. Tell me everything.” I glance around but can’t find Chief Ken. Where is he? Is he okay?

“Talk is so boring… this…” Her dark form looms inches from my face. I try not to react but I startle a bit anyway. She laughs, having received the reaction she obviously wanted. “This is so much more fun.”

Logan

A scream pierces through the house as I’m poking through a coat closet. Kacie? I brace myself against the doorframe, my fingers digging into the wood. Blake will keep her safe becomes a repeated mantra in my head. I have a job to do. Besides, I know Kacie can take care of herself…

“Are you all right, honey?” Mom asks. “That wasn’t Kacie’s scream.”

I nod without turning to look at her. “I know. The kids aren’t hiding in here. Where to next?”

“There’s no basement.” It’s Mr. Kincaid. His heels click on the wood floor as he paces. “We checked every closet, cabinet, and the garage. Nothing.”

“Upstairs?” I ask as I force myself to unclench my jaw.

“Upstairs,” Mr. Kincaid agrees.

Finally.
I head to the staircase leading up into more darkness. My light sweeps the stairs revealing nothing but the blood-red stains left by our pranksters. The light doesn’t reach the balcony which is cloaked in shadow. When I’m halfway up the stairs, a figure appears on the landing making my stomach drop to the floor. I shine the light on the figure, tensing when I see Chief Diving Eagle.

“Shouldn’t you be with Kacie?” I ask unable to control the accusatory tone.

“She is with Blake.” He levels a hard gaze at me. “She does battle with the spirit. Occupying her so we can search for the missing kids.”

“She needs my help,” I say when I reach the second story. I head down the hall toward her bright aura.

The chief’s hand on my arm stops me. “We need your help. Kacie and Blake are fine together. You must trust them to handle the situation.”

“Why do you need me? It’s just a search and rescue.”

“I feel there is more to it than that.” The chief’s gaze travels across the ceiling as though he’s trying to see through the drywall and plaster. “I have a bad feeling. The kids are somewhere on the third floor. I don’t think the angry spirit wishes for us to find them.”

A loud
thud
echoes down the hallway from a room near the end. Silence follows. I resist the urge to head down the hall to make sure that Kacie’s okay. Moans fill the air around us along with the sound of rattling chains.

“For the love of…” I trail off, looking for a sign of Tracy. Why is she resorting to cliché ghostly noises? Nobody could possibly be scared by—

“Help!”

“
Arrggh!
”

Human screams tear through the moaning and clinking chain sounds. I guess our intruders are afraid of old school ghost crap. It doesn’t make much sense. As I follow the others up the second staircase, I can’t help but wonder if the drama is a way to separate Kacie and me.