Twisted Sisters (The Orion Circle Book 2) (6 page)

“Did we break him?” the new spirit asks, moving within inches of my face. A frigid breeze accompanies her hand as she waves it in my face. “Darn, and he was so cute too.”

My mind reels in confusion. Never, in all my investigations, have I come across such an odd trio of spirits. Not only are they able to manipulate the physical world, but they speak so clearly. I can’t begin to imagine the amount of power they’d need to command to perform such a feat.

Silence seems to work, and I allow the three ghosts to think I’ve lost my mind, while I try to make sense of what I’m seeing. They whisper to each other, pointing my way every few words. I’ve heard of spirit boards opening portals to all sorts of weirdness… but this?

Chapter Seven — Rescue

Chapter Seven

Rescue

Kacie

Raven bursts from the house, the spirit board cradled to her chest. She lurches across the front yard, and I concentrate on the front door, waiting for Logan to appear. As the seconds tick by my throat closes, making it difficult to breathe. He’s trapped in the house with those evil
things.

“Logan!” I cry out, rushing to the open door. The door slams shut in my face. “No!”

I pound on the wood until my fists ache. This isn’t accomplishing anything. I need to get inside now. While I don’t know exactly what’s going on here, my bracelet is pulsing enough to jar my arm. I can’t leave Logan alone in there.

“Cici, stop,” Daniel says, grabbing my hands before I can attack the door again.

“Let me go, Daniel! Logan needs me.”

“Yes, he does, but you need to calm down if you want to help him.” He rubs the side of my hands where the skin is raw. “It’s bad, weird, and I don’t know what. These spirits are affecting you. Look at your hands.”

My head begins to clear, like a fog lifting. “What happened?” I ask, shaking my head. “I feel… strange.”

“These ghosts aren’t, uh, normal,” Daniel says as he pulls me away from the porch.

“There’s such a thing as normal ghosts?” Raven asks. Though she tries to scoff and act tough, her face is ashen.

Daniel helps me sit down on the grass. “You need to focus, Cici.”

“My head feels so hazy.” I run my fingers through the cool blades of grass. The feel of the grass helps ground me in the present, and the odd haze surrounding me finally fades away. Deep breaths calm my racing heart. Now that my head is clear, I realize my utter folly. I was banging on a locked door when there was a massive broken window six feet away.

“Better?” Daniel runs his hand over my forehead like he expects a fever. “Your skin is much cooler now. You sure worked yourself into a frenzy.”

“I had help,” I mumble, staring at the ground to avoid his eyes. Those miscreant spirits will pay. “Those are not your average, everyday ghosts in there. Have you touched the spirit board?”

“No. I won’t be doing it here.” Daniel runs a hand through his disheveled black hair. “I’m afraid they might gain control over me if I do.”

“We need to regroup away from here,” Rebecca says, towering over us with her hands on her hips. “We’ve drawn a crowd. We’re gonna be on the news tonight if we don’t quiet this mess down. Suggestions?”

“Security guard?” Carl asks as he drags the armchair away from the broken window.

“Not good enough,” Rebecca says, glancing around. “We have to get rid of the sorority sisters and all these morons milling around.”

“Termite tent.” Raven waves her hand at the house. “My grandma had her house tented last year, and the threat of poison was enough to keep everyone away.”

“Like in that X-Files with the monster guy who covers the house with that red and white tent, then has his way with the female occupants?” Carl asks, his voice shaking in excitement.

“Um, yes, and eww.” Raven pulls her phone from her jacket pocket. “I’ll call Mr. Kincaid and get it set up.”

I watch her storm off toward the street. “Inside. Now. I’m not leaving Logan with those ghosts one second longer.”

Daniel drapes his leather jacket over the broken bay window. “Then may I suggest you climb in through here rather than banging more on the door?”

He boosts me up, and I half-stumble, half-jump through. Something knocks me forward as I land, sending my body careening into a nearby, upended sofa. My elbow cracks against the wooden leg, and pain shoots up into my shoulder. I bite my lip to keep from yelling. Those ghosts won’t get a reaction from me… well not much of one anyway.

“Stay out there,” I yell to Daniel who is clamoring through the opening. “They aren’t playing nice.”

He gives me a quizzical look before easing his body back through the window. “I’ll wait here. Hurry, Cici.” His calm words belie the raw concern radiating from his eyes.

After a few deep breaths, I push to my feet and head toward the back of the house looking for Logan. My head spins, and my vision blurs. The air is so heavy around me, like a tangible pressure. When I reach the family room, I can’t contain my gasp. Utter destruction. I’m about to continue to the kitchen when I hear a muffled groan.

“Logan, is that you?” I call out into the eerie silence.

“Over here.” His reply is soft, pained.

Furniture is stacked haphazardly in an amazing array, like a real-life Jenga game, ready to tumble with even the slightest touch. I squeeze between an end table and the remains of a big-screen TV, careful to keep my body from touching them. Pieces of glass from several broken lamps crunch under my feet as I follow the sound of Logan’s labored breathing. I find him sprawled against the fireplace, the brick mantel in pieces covering his body.

“Oh God, Logan, where are you hurt?” I ask while flinging bricks from his body.

“My ribs… bruised or broken… my fingers…” He holds up his left hand. His middle and ring fingers both appear to be broken. His eyes widen. “Crap! They’re back.”

My hair whips around my face as the spirits appear in a small whirlwind. Dark whispers fill the air around us, too soft to make out the words but menacing nonetheless. Ignoring them, I continue to remove the bricks from Logan’s battered body. Fear fills his eyes, and I silently implore him to ignore the intruders. They’ve had enough attention for one day. There’s a good chance our fear is feeding them, fueling their power. Once the smaller bricks are removed, I see the large piece of mantel keeping Logan pinned to the ground.

“I think if we push this together, we can roll it off your legs.” Before I can get my weight behind the mantel and push, one of the spirits plows into me, knocking me on my back. Something inside me snaps. Anger, humiliation, fear, sorrow‌—‌all the emotions I’ve felt during this annoying day at school and here with the uncooperative spirits‌—‌it all swirls around until it explodes. “Back off!” I scream at the invisible phantoms lurking nearby. “Leave us alone!” My aura flares around my body, an angry red. Within moments the air stops moving, and the oppressive weight lifts.

“They’re gone,” Logan says, relief flooding his eyes. He helps me push the mantel off of his legs, and lurches to unsteady feet. “I hit my head a few times while those bitches were flinging me around.”

I brush brick dust from his forehead, careful to avoid the deep scrape on his temple. The blood has dried in streaks down his left cheek and neck. Though I want to check him over, assess his injuries, we need to get out of here before the ghosts return.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” I ask, holding up my index finger.

“Eleven,” he replies chuckling. The snicker is followed by a cough which causes a pained groan.

I wrap his arm over my shoulders, supporting some of his weight. “Let’s get out of here.”

Chapter Eight — Research

Chapter Eight

Research

Logan

Two bruised ribs, two busted fingers, and a knee swollen up the size of a cantaloupe. And of course I can’t forget the lovely gash on my left temple and the black eye. At least I didn’t need stitches. I lie in the dark, trying to resist the urge to toss and turn. Whenever I move, a sharp pain shoots through my side. Maybe I should just take the pain pills Dr. Hayes gave me. No, there’s no way I’m staying out of this hunt, not after what those vicious phantoms did to me. Pills will only cloud my mind.

Mom and Dad are down the hall arguing… probably over my safety. I can’t tell; the thick walls muffle their words. Ever since my sister, Clarissa, died my parents have become a tad overprotective. Perhaps my injuries today were too much for them to deal with. Clarissa… it’s been almost five years, yet it seems like yesterday. Images fill my mind‌—‌violence, blood, screams. I shut down the thought, slamming the memories away deep down. I can’t deal with the sorrow and regret now.

My cell buzzes.
You didn’t take your meds did you.

Kacie. She seems to know me pretty well.
No.

See the news?

Hard to miss.

The Circle sure can spin a story.

Had to do something to explain a bunch of screaming sorority girls.
My head still aches from the incessant screeching.

Yeah, but crickets and cockroaches?? Eww!

I can almost feel her shiver. Poor Kacie finds insects much scarier than ghosts.
Explains the extermination tent.

Greek prank gone wrong‌—‌story at 10.

If only they knew the truth‌—‌now that would be a newsflash‌—‌ghosts gone wild.

Lol, try to sleep. Meeting at 9. Know u won’t wanna miss it.

My lips curl into a smile. Well, at least my girlfriend isn’t coddling me, acting like I’m useless because I’m injured.
Pick u up at 8:30.

Several moments later.
Daniel will pick us both up. Driving might be hard.

She’s right. Craptastic. Now I can’t even drive my own car. And Daniel. I shouldn’t be mad at him, I know I shouldn’t… but I keep seeing him kissing Kacie. Damn it, why can’t I get that awful picture out of my head? I guess I wait too long to reply.

Logan you ok?

I lie.
Fine. Get some sleep.

You too. Night ♥

Night ♥

I toss the phone aside. Silence fills the house now. It looks like my parents gave up on their argument and went to sleep. Stifling a groan, I push myself up into a sitting position on the bed. While my laptop boots up, I rub the bandage on my side. Torn intercostal muscle was the official diagnosis. Several weeks of hell, more like it.

Concentrate!

The ghosts, they sounded like they were in
The Brady Bunch
or
Scooby Doo
, using words like groovy. So, they were in college in the late 1960s or early 1970s. I type the sorority and San Antonio University into Google. A refined search of 1970 brings up the article I’m looking for. Take that, Rebecca. Found it in ten seconds, and she called me useless when it came to research.

The article continues for three more paragraphs of nothing useful. Two weeks later I find the real story.