2 Whispering (8 page)

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want to help her move on?”

“Is that an option?”

“I’ve never seen it done personally but, yes, I believe it is something that is possible.”

“How would I go about doing that?”

“I have no idea. I’m guessing solving her murder would do the trick, though. At least it will be a good start.”

“It happened in the 1970s,” I reminded him. “I don’t even know how she died. The stories I found mentioned her going missing, not how she died.”

“Then find her body.”

“Oh, I’ll just find a body that has been missing for almost forty years.”

Rafael ignored my sarcastic tone. “There were actually a series of disappearances back then, if I remember correctly.”

“You were here then?”

“I’ve been in this area for a very long time,” Rafael said. “I haven’t always been around the campus, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t keep up on what was happening in the area.”

“What do you remember about the disappearances?”

“Just that there were a series of young women that went missing,” Rafael said. “I don’t believe any bodies were ever found and I can’t remember how many of them went missing.”

“So, without a body and without a suspect, how do I help a ghost move on?”

“I don’t know,” Rafael answered truthfully. “Let me do some research and I’ll get back to you.”

“You’ll get back to me?”

Rafael didn’t answer. Instead, he got to his feet and swept out of the room, his trench coat trailing behind him like a cape. I noticed a few girls watching him as he left. He did make an imposing figure. A really irritating and mysterious figure, but an imposing one all the same.

Thursday morning came far too quickly – even if I didn’t have to get up until 10 a.m. to make my computer lab on time. When I got to class, I found that Laura was already there and diligently working on today’s project.

I greeted her when I sat down. “It is frigid out there.”

“At least there’s no snow,” she said.

“That’s the only good thing about the weather,” I agreed. “It’s like it’s too cold for snow.”

We both set about working on our projects in amiable silence after that. The only sound in the room was that of typing fingers on keyboards and occasional whispers between seatmates. The good thing about the classroom, though, is that the stations were set far enough apart that normal conversation couldn’t be easily overheard.

“So, what have you been up to?” I asked during a break from coding.

“I don’t know,” Laura shrugged. “I’ve actually been considering joining a group.”

“What kind of group? Like a sorority?” Laura didn’t seem like the sorority type.

“No, it’s more of an extracurricular group.”

“Like a racquetball group?” I was confused.

“No,” Laura laughed. “It’s more of a club, really.”

“Like
Dungeons and Dragons
?” Do people still play that?

“No, well kind of.”

A sneaking suspicion entered my mind. “How did you find this group?”

“Mark told me about it,” Laura hedged. “We were hanging around in the basement doing laundry the other day and it came up. He had mentioned it before, but he kind of explained more about it the other day and it sounds interesting.”

Oh, no. “Is Mark a part of this group?”

“He is.”

“Is it a monster hunting group?” I asked grimly, looking around to see if anyone else had heard my question. It didn’t appear anyone had.

“It is.” Laura looked surprised by my question, but she took it in stride.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” I asked carefully.

“I think it’s interesting,” Laura said evasively. “I’ve always been interested in the supernatural. What better way to learn about it?”

“Laura,” I turned to her seriously. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Why?” She asked innocently.

“That group . . . they’re not what they appear to be.”

“Are you a member of the group? Mark said you were.”

Mark was a filthy liar – or at least an impressive exaggerator. “I was never part of that group,” I corrected her.

“Mark said you went to classes there.”

“I visited there a few times,” I admitted. “It wasn’t for me, though.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re not what they appear to be,” I said again. “They’re not heroes.”

“That’s what they say about you,” Laura said.

I eyed her suspiciously. “What did they say about me?”

“Nothing specific,” Laura said quickly. I think she sensed my sudden agitation. “In fact, they didn’t say anything to me. Mark just said he knew that you were important to them for some reason.”

“You’ve been to classes there?”

“I went to orientation,” Laura supplied.

Orientation? Good grief. “Are they recruiting people?”

“They seem to be.”

“How many people?” They were expanding their ranks. That couldn’t be good.

“I don’t know,” Laura said truthfully.

“I think you need to be careful, Laura,” I said, choosing my words carefully.

“Why?”

“Because not all monsters are created equal,” I said. I wasn’t sure how much I should tell her – and I definitely couldn’t tell her anything in such an open setting.

“What do you mean?”

“That academy treats anything – anyone – that is different as if they are the enemy,” I explained.

“And you don’t think they are?”

“I think it’s dangerous to put a blanket statement or belief out there and think it applies to everyone,” I said carefully.

“But if they’re monsters and they’re killing people . . .”

“They’re not all monsters,” I corrected Laura. “They’re not all killing people.”

“How do you know?”

Because I want to see one of them naked. Okay, maybe I wouldn’t mind seeing two of them naked.. “Let’s just say I know,” I said finally.

“So you’re saying not all of them kill people?”

“That’s right.”

“Then why does Professor Blake think that they do?” Laura looked genuinely curious.

Professor Blake. Of course he would be behind this. “Professor Blake is the most dangerous kind of monster there is,” I said bitterly. “He’s the kind of monster that thinks he’s right and everyone else is wrong.”

“What if he is right, though?”

“He’s not. He sees everyone in two shades – black and white. People – so-called monsters, too – are not all black and white. There are shades of gray.” And shades of sun-kissed bronze.

“I didn’t think about that,” Laura said finally.

“Laura, I’m not telling you what to do,” I turned to her searchingly. “It’s your life. You need to make your own decisions. I’m just asking you not to follow them blindly. I’m asking you to question what they’re telling you and then make your own decision.”

“I will,” she said, and I could tell she was being honest.

“Besides,” I blew out a sigh. “There are better ways to get close to Mark.”

I could see the color flood to Laura’s cheeks. “I’m not doing it just to spend time with Mark.”

I didn’t believe her. “Good, because no guy is worth doing something that you might regret forever.”

“I know,” Laura’s voice was low and pitiful.

“Why don’t you just ask him out?” I suggested.

“I’m not as secure around men as you are.”

Secure? Frustrated was more like it. “Just give it a shot.”

Laura didn’t answer me.

“And please,” I added. “Give it some time before you sign up with the monster academy and start believing their doctrines.”

“I will,” Laura said sincerely. After a few minutes, she continued. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. They must want you in the group because you’re so smart.”

I doubted that was it.

The rest of computer lab with Laura was fairly uncomfortable. Our conversation wasn’t exactly heated, but it was definitely stilted. I was relieved when I left class and started the long hike back to Barnes Hall.

I made a mental note to question Paris about her relationship with Laura. I kept forgetting to do it. Something – lurking strangers, noises in the bushes, our love lives – kept interrupting us. I wanted to know if she thought Laura was trustworthy, though. I thought she was. My only problem was that she seemed easily swayed. I still couldn’t figure out why Laura and Paris would avoid each other so rigorously if they were friends back home – especially since they were living on the same floor.

Even though I wanted to go up to the second floor and see if I could find Lisa right away, I knew that wasn’t an option. I had to sit through the psychology class from hell before I could consider another trek to the second floor. Plus, I didn’t want other students to see me climbing the staircase to a restricted area. I didn’t want to risk anyone following me and thinking I was talking to myself.

Psychology class was even worse the second go-around. I couldn’t even attempt to focus on the professor’s lecture. Since I knew it was practically word-for-word from the textbook, though, I wasn’t too worried about it.

Once class was over, I moved as slowly as I could packing up my belongings. It didn’t take long for the class to empty. When I stuck my head out the door and looked up and down the hallway, I was pretty sure that the entire building was vacant, too. I didn’t waste any time. I screwed up my courage – hey, it’s still a dark stairwell and I am going to have a conversation with a ghost – and quickly bolted up the stairs. I felt like one of those kids that runs and jumps on their bed to avoid something reaching from underneath it and grabbing their ankle.

I immediately went to the classroom where I had last seen Lisa. Unfortunately, the room looked completely vacant.

“Lisa?” I whispered for the ghost, still unsure if anyone was in the building. I felt like an idiot. What if someone walked in?

“Lisa?” I tried again.

I was starting to get impatient.

“Lisa!” I figured if someone heard me I would just lie and say I was looking for a classmate. Hey, I don’t have all day.

“What?” Lisa materialized next to me irritably. I noticed she was wearing the same outfit from our previous encounter.

“There you are,” I tried to calm the rapid rate of my heart which had jumped when Lisa had appeared.

“What do you want?” Lisa seemed a little irritated.

“I came back to see you, like you asked.” I was getting a little irritated, too. It’s not like she had a lot of visitors. She should be happy to see me.

“You only left a few minutes ago,” Lisa said angrily. “I told you to come back in a few days.”

She clearly had no sense of time. “It’s been two days.”

“It has not.”

“I saw you first on Tuesday,” I said, forcing myself to refrain from snapping at her. “It’s Thursday now.”

“Is it really?” Lisa looked confused.

“Am I wearing the same outfit?”

Lisa looked me up and down. “No.”

I shrugged wearily and sat down in one of the few chairs that was left in the room. “How are you?”

“I’m dead.”

Well, at least she’d accepted that. “I know.”

“Did you find out how I died?”

“No,” I admitted.

“Did they find my body?”

“No.”

“I hope they find it soon. If they don’t, my mom won’t be able to have an open casket funeral. Can you still have an open casket funeral if they body has been decomposing for two weeks?”

Lisa seemed oddly detached from this conversation. It was like she wanted to know the answers – but she really didn’t want to know at the same time.

“Lisa,” I started. How do I even tell her this? “I don’t think an open casket is going to be an option.”

“You’re right,” she sighed. “I probably have animal marks and stuff on my body from wherever it got dumped.”

“Not any more,” I said with faux brightness. What? She was most definitely a skeleton by now. That’s definitely better than rotting flesh.

“What do you mean?”

“Lisa, what year do you think it is?”

“It’s 1975,” she said sharply. “It’s November of 1975.”

Not quite.

“Is it 1976 already?” Lisa asked. “Is that why you’re dressed like that? Have the styles already changed?” She looked me up and down. “If so, I like last season’s clothes a lot better.”

Great, now I was getting fashion advice from a ghost. I chose my next words carefully, though. I didn’t want to piss her off. What if she went all crazy like the spirits in
Poltergeist
or something? “It’s not 1976.”

“That’s good. I didn’t want to think that I’d missed more than a few weeks.”

“It’s 2013,” I blurted out. What? There’s no easy way to break this to her.

“No . . . 2013 . . . that’s impossible!”

I couldn’t help but feel a little bit of guilt over the anguish that washed over Lisa’s face. “It is,” I said, pulling out my cell phone and bringing up the calendar to prove my point.

“What is that?” Lisa pointed at my phone.

“It’s a cell phone.”

“That’s a phone? It’s so little.”

“Things have changed,” I said gently. “There are a lot of things that are probably different from when you were . . . from 1975.”

“Do people live on the moon?”

Not that different. “No. We’re still Earth-based.”

“Well, I guess that’s something,” Lisa muttered. “Wait, you said they hadn’t found my body.”

“They haven’t,” I said.

“But it’s been . . .” Lisa broke off as she started doing the math. “It’s been like forty years.”

“I know.”

“But how come they didn’t find my body?”

I shrugged. I had no idea how to answer that. “Can you remember anything about the day you died?”

“No. I already told you,” Lisa’s voice had risen a full octave. She was starting to get hysterical. Even though I was the only one that could hear her, I was decidedly uncomfortable with the situation.

“I was told that several women went missing around the time that you did,” I said hurriedly. I was trying to distract her from the horror of revelations that were still to come – like that fact that her mother was probably already dead, too. “Do you remember anything about that?”

Lisa pondered the question for a second. “That was a rumor going around campus. Everyone thought it was an urban legend, though.”

“I don’t think it was.”

“Why wouldn’t the college warn us then?”

That was a pretty good question. “Maybe they didn’t want to freak anyone out.”

“Or maybe they just wanted to cover their asses. They didn’t want to be known as the murder college.”

That was a possibility, too. Of course, given the prevalence of the supernatural population on campus, I couldn’t help but wonder how many disappearances the school had covered up over the years.

“So what happens now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been trapped here for thirty-eight years,” Lisa reminded me. “Am I going to be stuck here forever?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m hoping that you’ll be able to, you know, move on.”

“How?”

“I have a friend. He suggested that if we find your body and discover who killed you that you might just be able to move on.”

“How are you going to do that?” Lisa asked. “If no one has found my body in forty years, how are you going to do it?”

I had no idea. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just know I’m going to try.”

“Why?” Lisa asked. “Why do you want to help me?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I just think that everyone deserves some kind of peace.”

“Is that what happens when you move on? You find peace?” Lisa’s voice was filled with such longing I had no choice but to lie.

“I think so,” I said.

The problem was, I had no idea if that was true or not.