Twisted Sisters (The Orion Circle Book 2) (22 page)

“You have no idea,” Blake says with a cruel smile.

She shrieks and flies toward him but is stopped by an invisible barrier. Her body bounces backward as energy crackles around us. The barrier seems to drain her energy, leaving her more subdued. Rising to her feet, she glares at us, still in her death clothes but not quite her death state.

“Want to see it?” she asks, staring at me, reading my mind.

“No.” I swallow around a hard lump forming in my throat. “I saw enough in my vision. I know you suffered terribly, and I am so sorry.”

“You. Can’t. Even. Begin. To understand. My pain.” She emphasizes every syllable, her bloodshot eyes never leaving mine.

Logan

I sense movement, and in the next moment Tracy throws herself at the barrier, a screaming, howling banshee. She fights against the magic barring her. Static electricity sparks through the room, zooming around, visible in the darkness. I push Kacie behind me as the manic ghost continues her relentless assault on the barrier. A deafening
boom
reverberates through the room, followed by a wave of energy. I push Kacie down, falling on top of her to shield her from the ghost’s wrath. Pain lances up my back like thousands of cat claws, making me cry out both in shock and pain. I glance back‌—‌Samson and Delilah hiss their displeasure at Tracy, their claws digging into my back.

The claws retract when I yell at them, and all the other pain surfaces. Ignoring the throbbing in my ribs, I roll to my side to free Kacie, sending the cats leaping away. Tracy lets out one last anguished wail before slumping and falling to the floor. My familiars circle her prone body, mouths open, scenting the air. The heaviness in the air lessens, but I continue to take in shallow breaths to keep from aggravating the pain. I watch Tracy, searching for… well not signs of life, but existence? Her form flickers like an old movie, and I wonder if she’ll just wink out of existence.

“Is she…” Blake trails off, pushing himself up on his elbows. “That was quite a blast. You both okay?”

“Yeah,” Kacie says, rubbing her head. “Where’s Mr. Kincaid?”

“Out here,” Mr. Kincaid says from the hall. “I got out just before the explosion.”

“Logan…” Kacie pulls on my arm while pointing at Tracy’s prone form. “I’ve never seen, I mean, she can’t…”

“Her spirit would’ve disappeared if she was destroyed.” I try to struggle to my feet but give up, sagging back down. Kacie leans against me, and I wrap my arms around her.

Blake eyes us. “You two are not okay.”

“When Tracy forced the barrier, she released a lot of psychic energy,” I say, resting my cheek on Kacie’s head.

“It drained all of us, not just her,” Kacie adds.

“I feel fine,” Blake says stretching his arms over his head.

“Yeah, why is that?” I ask, unable to hide the genuine surprise from my voice.

“Rebecca will be thrilled,” Kacie says.

Blake raises his brows. “Why, she like stamina?”

Kacie giggles. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Blake. She likes researching puzzles.”

“Oh, no. I ain’t no one’s guinea pig.”

Tracy’s spirit releases a soft sigh, like a light exhale of breath… if ghosts could breathe. She floats to her feet as though controlled by invisible strings. Still solid, her dark eyes scan the room. A smile crosses her face when she realizes that she made it through the psychic barrier. All I can do is stare at the ghost and wonder what that mysterious smile means. Maybe she’s as drained as we are. Kacie squeezes my hand, her aura flickering from exhaustion. I meet her gaze. Evade and stall for time to recover‌—‌I try to send the message to her in my expression.

“Now that you’re in here, love,” Blake says, gesturing at the room. “Care to share why you wanted in so bad?”

Tracy blushes at Blake’s obvious flirting. I had no idea a spirit could blush, even one who appears as human as she does. I mean, it takes blood to blush, right. More manipulation? She glides to one of the beds and reaches out to it. Her hand goes straight through. When she tries again, she lets out a frustrated growl as her hand once again passes through the mattress.

“I can’t touch anything?” she says, her words sounding more like a question than a statement.

One moment she’s by the bed and the next she appears inches from Blake’s face. He doesn’t flinch, which I have to admit is rather impressive. I’m pretty sure even I’d have reacted to her sudden appearance.

“Are you really a werewolf?” she asks, leaning so close they’d touch were she human.

“Yep.” Blake manages a blank face as the ghost circles him.

“Shift for me.”

“It ain’t a full moon, love,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. I’m well aware that Blake can shift whenever he wants. He’s a born alpha werewolf, not a bite victim. Blake’s features take on a look of complete innocence. Damn but he can rival Kacie and Daniel in the acting department. “Why’re you deflecting attention from that bed? What’s under that mattress?”

“Nothing,” she says, backing away, shaking her head furiously.

“Now we both know that ain’t the truth.” Blake saunters over to the bed and lifts the mattress.

“No!”

“Now what have we here?” Blake tosses a small book to me.

I open the book and flip through the pages. “It’s a journal.”

“It’s mine!” Tracy howls, making a grab for the book. But her hand passes through. She may have enough power left to look almost human, but not enough to manipulate physical objects.

Kacie takes the book, hugging it to her chest. “This is very private, but it could also be what’s keeping you from moving on.”

Tracy’s form flickers and sinks to the floor. She returns to an ethereal, misty spirit, and I can’t help but notice how much lighter she is now than before. Swirling white and light gray misty energy compose her figure, a sure sign that she’s close to acceptance of her fate.

“I’ll talk, but just to you,” she says, pointing at Kacie.

“No,” I say, unwilling to leave Kacie alone with this dangerous adversary.

“Of course,” Kacie says, directing a glare at me.

Chapter Twenty-Five — The Truth

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Truth

Kacie

The boys follow Mr. Kincaid to the stairs but not without a lot of grumbling. Once they’ve disappeared from sight, I glance back at Tracy. She sighs, and her ghostly shoulders slump.

“That journal…” She trails off as tears fall from her eyes. She sniffs. “I-I… I reveal my relationship with Jeffrey in there.”

“Jeffrey?”

“Associate Professor Jeffrey Rosenthal,” she says, staring at the ground.

“The guy who ki—” I stop short before saying
killed you
.

“Yes. The man who murdered me.”

I stare at her, in shock. “I don’t know what to say.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from yelling or crying or… I don’t know. What she said, I just don’t know how to process it. I’m in way over my head here. And yet, I’m the only one who can help her.
What do I say?
I must wait too long to speak, or she can see the shock and aversion on my face.

“Aren’t you going to say anything? Tell me how awful I am?”

“I don’t know your story, and even if I did, it’s not my place to judge.” I lean against the bed, letting my head fall back against it. “One thing I do know. It seems that the professor may have had the psychic power of persuasion.”

“What do you mean?” Her face fills with hope. It makes my stomach turn.

“I know someone who can manipulate her voice to convince people to do or think things.” The image of Dr. Hayes fills my mind. Our resident Circle doctor not only has the power of persuasion, but she’s dating my father… may become my mother soon. Her power scares me. Dad is oblivious, but she wants to tell him. What a can of worms to open…

“I didn’t know that was possible,” Tracy says, the hope fading from her eyes.

“You’ll believe Blake’s a werewolf, and I can obviously communicate with the dead, but someone who can persuade people is beyond belief?”

“Everyone can see me.”

“You, sure. You’re very powerful for a spirit. Most ghosts, not so much.”

The conversation brings back memories best left buried‌—‌my mother and father fighting about my
delusions
, my mother running out because she couldn’t deal with my emerging abilities, and worst of all, her admission that she too is psychic. I try to tamp them down, pretend it’s all in the past. But it isn’t.
Mother
wants to come visit, to reconnect after six years. I clench my jaw. Now isn’t the time. Why do thoughts of her always crop up when I’m weakest?

“I’m sorry,” Tracy says. Not sarcastic, not nasty, just a normal apology. “Your thoughts about your mother. You were projecting them rather loud. That’s my talent, in life and death. I can read thoughts, um, the negative ones anyway. That’s why I liked Jeffrey so much. His mind was closed to me for some reason. It was a relief to be around someone who wasn’t broadcasting his thoughts all the time.”

“That would suck.” I let out a wry laugh. Of all powers, that’s one I definitely wouldn’t want. Mine isn’t easy to deal with, seeing ghosts that others can’t, but at least I can’t hear everyone’s thoughts. Hell, it’s hard enough dealing with the nasty words thrown at me sometimes, I can’t imagine hearing the negative thoughts too. At least it explains how she and her cronies knew our deep, dark secrets.

“Yeah, the one person whose thoughts I needed to read, I couldn’t.” She laughs but it turns into what sounds like a strangled sob. “I was so happy about it too.” She pauses, staring up at the ceiling. “I loved him, you know.”

“I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to be betrayed by someone you love.”

“I know. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

I watch her fidget, wringing her fingers together. “Tell me what happened, why you’re so afraid.”

“It was supposed to be Angela,” she whispers, her eyes downcast.

I stare at her, trying to keep the shock from my face, from my thoughts. She knew, but so did Angela. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions. Maybe Tracy didn’t know exactly what the psycho professor had planned.

“Tell me,” I say, my voice calm and even.

“Jeffrey was a master manipulator. I knew that… but I loved him anyway. Ours was a secret romance. He would’ve lost his job if anyone knew he was involved with a student.”

“Did you know about him and Angela?”

She stares at the wall, probably sorting through memories, the kind best forgotten. I watch in silence as she glides back and forth across the room, inches above the floor. Her face morphs through several different expressions, none of them happy.

“I found o-out,” she says, her voice cracking. “I blamed her, not him. Now looking back, I think he had lots of other girls, lots of stupid, naïve puppets.”

“From what I read about him and what came out in the trial, that wouldn’t surprise me.”

“What happened in the trial?”

“Not until you tell me what happened that night.”

A smirk spreads across her face. “Well, see, I’m rather impatient and tired of pretending.”

“Pretending?”

She doesn’t answer. One moment everything is calm and the next her spirit energy slams into me, knocking the air from my lungs. As I struggle to breathe, she worms her way into my body. Having a vision is one thing‌—‌our consciousness merges for a few minutes. But this… this is something entirely different. Damn her. She only pretended to be affected by the psychic drain caused by the barrier breaking. And stupid me… I fell for it.

“Get out,” I hiss through my clenched teeth, unable to make a sound louder than a whisper.

Again no answer. Painful convulsions rack my body. I fall to my side, my fingers digging into the plush carpet. A strange sensation pours down my arms, like cold slime running through my veins. When I try to lift my arm it remains unmoving. Panic surges, my heart racing so loud my pulse roars in my ears. The icy, slimy sensation oozes throughout my body, down my legs and into my feet. My bracelet vibrates on my wrist, moving up and down, slamming against the bone in my wrist. I concentrate on the bracelet, hoping to draw strength from the antique silver. Though it never stops vibrating, it also doesn’t stop the insidious ooze.