Vengeful Spirits series Box Set Page 4

  “Let’s get away from this place,” I said to him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Oh,” said Mads, sitting on the counter next to the sink in the Airstream, “now you want to talk to me.” She crossed her legs and gave me a hurt look. She was wearing a pair of cut-off jean shorts that exposed nearly all of her thighs.

  “I do,” I said. “I want you to tell me about that thing that’s attached to Wade.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll ignore you. You can see how it feels.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Geez, Mads, I’m sorry. It was a bad night last night. Besides, you can’t blame a guy for trying. I got you to stop showing up for what? Fifteen years? Now you’re back, all because I couldn’t ignore you.”

  “That’s not why I’m back.” She hopped down off the counter. “You didn’t make me go away with ignoring me. That’s not how it works. I couldn’t get through to you for years.”

  “Why not?”

  “I was too weak.”

  “Why were you weak?”

  “Is this what you want to talk about?”

  I looked her over. “Can you… wear actual clothes?”

  She snickered. “I’m not wearing any clothes at all, really. It’s all a projection.”

  “Well, project more fabric,” I muttered. I bent down and opened the refrigerator and took out a can of soda. So, like I said, Mads used to be my imaginary friend when I was a kid. I mean, she showed up at the same time as the ghosts did, but I didn’t put two and two together right off that she was a ghost. Not until I touched her and she was just like them. Anyway, at some point, I decided I would stop paying attention to the ghosts, hoping they’d go away. And Mads did. So, that was part of the reason why I steadfastly ignored them.

  Although, come to think of it, maybe it hadn’t really worked on any other ghost besides her.

  So, I hadn’t made her disappear? Something had happened to her? Why had she been weak?

  I opened the soda and raised my gaze to Mads, who was now wearing a nun’s habit. “Very funny,” I said.

  She giggled. “You like?”

  “Look, about the barnacle.”

  “The what?”

  “The thing attached to Wade. I started thinking of it like a barnacle because it’s stuck on and won’t let go. Is there another word for it?”

  “Probably,” she said. “But if there is, I don’t know it. I do know that spirits—phantoms—wraiths—ghosts—whatever you want to call them, sometimes have different abilities.”

  “Right,” I said. “Like there are your run-of-the-mill ghosts, and then there’s you. You’re different.”

  She winked at me. “How nice of you to notice. But yes, like that. I’m not the same as they are, and there are other kinds of phantoms. Some can attach themselves. Some can possess humans. Some can move objects. Some can wail and shake chains in the attic—”

  “Seriously?”

  She giggled again. “Just because I’m not corporeal doesn’t mean I know all these things. I’m as clueless as you are.”

  “You can’t, like, communicate with the barnacle? Ask it what it wants?”

  “You can do that,” she said.

  “I can’t. I’ll look nuts.”

  “Oh, too bad. Poor Deacon.”

  I took a swig of my soda. “So you don’t know anything?”

  “Nope.”

  “Not what it is? Not how to get rid of it?”

  She just shook her head.

  Great.

  * * *

  I used to have a mobile hotspot I paid for so that I could check my email and watch Netflix on the road, but I started tethering my cell phone instead, and I got rid of it. There was no point in paying for both plans. It wasn’t as great as having internet in your own house, of course. It wasn’t as fast, and it could be spotty if I took the Airstream somewhere remote, but there were trade-offs for having the freedom I had. I could pick up and leave whenever I wanted, and that was priceless.

  Lying on my bed, I balanced my laptop on my chest and looked up the history of Ridinger Hall.

  I didn’t see much about Heather Olsen in the first search results to my queries. Instead, I discovered that the dorm had actually stayed open, housing students, until the mid-1990s. See, the dorm had been open, but no one had ever used the room where Heather had fallen from.

  Then, in around 1996, they’d decided enough time had passed and reopened the room.

  Two girls moved into the room. One of them committed suicide, jumping out of the window. The other’s boyfriend died. He also fell out of a window.

  There was at least one other weird incident like that associated with the place. Some high school kids had broken into the dorm ten years ago or so. Afterward, they’d all gotten depressed. All of them had jumped or fallen out of windows and a few people outside the circle, who’d never been in the dorm at all, had also fallen and died.

  It was incredibly weird stuff. I couldn’t even begin to speculate what it all meant.

  Then I pulled up Rylan’s youtube channel and poked around.

  I watched a few videos here and there just to get the idea. It seemed that Rylan went to purportedly haunted locations and went through with whatever people she could convince to come along. She liked to pick jumpy, pretty chicks. The screaming seemed to heighten everything, and she did a lot of quick cutting from the screams to creepy shots of broken-down rooms in broken-down houses and those sorts of things.

  Now, contrary to popular belief, ghosts do not show up on film (or digitally, for that matter) so if there were any spirits in the places she went to, I couldn’t tell. But it looked to me that she wasn’t experiencing any genuine hauntings. The truth is, even if there are ghosts everywhere, they usually aren’t very good at communicating with regular people. They can’t. They might try, but it takes a lot to affect the physical world, to knock things over or make noise. They had to be pretty strong to do that kind of thing.

  After a bit of searching, I found the video of Ridinger Hall. Rylan had gone in there with Wade and three other girls from the college, all of whom were the jumpy, pretty kind of girl.

  The first five minutes of the video were basically quick cuts of them in different rooms and then girls screaming. They didn’t even seem to have particularly good reasons for screaming, near as I could tell. They were just jumpy. In the last part of the video, they went up to the top floor, to the room where Heather Olsen had fallen.

  Except the jumpy girls didn’t go with them.

  They were too freaked out already and had all three run out of the house, apparently. The video didn’t show a shot of this, but Rylan explained it to the camera as she was climbing the stairs in the house. “I’ve got Wade with me, though,” she said, grinning. “We’re brave enough to go to the scene of the crime.”

  Wade saluted the camera, also grinning. From the looseness of his posture, I could see that he was drunk.

  So, they pre-gamed, and then they filmed this. I rolled my eyes.

  The two reached the top of the steps and then they had some problems getting through the hallway, because there was some furniture overturned up there. Plus, some mice were nesting in it, and they skittered across the steps, getting a “What the hell?” out of Wade and a hiss from Rylan.

  Once they navigated around the overturned couch, they made it into the room where Heather had fallen. It was empty. Completely empty. There weren’t even curtains or blinds on the window, which stood open at the end of the room, a yawning pit of night. The walls were painted stacked concrete, and the paint was worn off in some places, layers and layers of colors over the years. The carpet on the floor had been ripped up, and now there was just wood on the floor, which had been spray painted with various tags and messages.

  “It’s cold in here,” Rylan whispered.

  “Heck yeah,” said Wade.

  Slowly, they made their way across the room to the window.

  I was pretty sure I saw them both shiver, as if something tou
ched them.

  The camera zoomed at the window, a cheap trick on Rylan’s part, before a quick cut to the ground.

  End of the video.

  What the hell? There was nothing there that I could make sense of.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I knocked on Wade’s door. It was the next morning, and I was feeling pretty helpless here. I knew I needed to do something about this barnacle, so I would start by telling Wade about it. Maybe. If that seemed like a good idea.

  No one was answering at Wade’s place.

  Wade lived in a house downtown that had been cut up into apartments. There were four in the place, and he lived in the upstairs apartment, which used to be the attic. I had to climb up a set of fairly rickety steps which was flaking blue paint, to get to his door.

  “Wade!” I called. Okay, what the hell? I shouldn’t have left him alone, should I? I should have stuck with him every second of every day, because I didn’t know what was going on with him, and that barnacle thing might have wrapped itself around his neck and strangled him or… or… “Wade, damn it, open the door.” I rapped harder.

  The door was yanked open. Wade was only in a pair of pajama pants. His hair was sticking up on the top of his head. But the most important thing was this: the barnacle was gone. “What the hell?” said Wade, yawning and scratching his stomach. “Did I know you were coming by?”

  I sucked in a deep breath to calm my heart, which had started to pick up speed. “I thought that…” I looked him over. “What happened to you yesterday?”

  “Sorry I didn’t call you, man. I was kind of hungover from the night before,” he said. “I just stayed in last night.”

  “Stayed in. Like here?” I pushed past him into the apartment. It wasn’t a big place. The ceiling was low and sloping. The center of the apartment, where the roof peaked, was the living room. The other rooms—kitchen, bathroom, one bedroom, were tucked on the sides. Wade’s apartment was kind of a wreck. His coffee table was littered with empty beer bottles and takeout boxes. I figured the kitchen looked the same way.

  “By all means, come on in,” said Wade, shutting the door.

  I turned in a circle, looking around. I could see into the kitchen—a sink overflowing with plates—and into the bathroom—shower curtain open to reveal one of those massaging shower heads. “So, you just stayed here? When did you get back here? What did you do after we said goodbye yesterday?”

  “You know, it’s actually good you’re here,” said Wade. “Because last night, I was talking to Charlotte—do you know Charlotte?”

  “No,” I said. “You’re not answering my questions.”

  “About what?” he said.

  “About where you were yesterday.”

  “I had a class,” he said. “Actually two.”

  “You went to class?”

  “I’ve been going to college for seven years now,” he said. “I was thinking about maybe graduating sometime soon.”

  “Okay, so everything in class was normal?” I said.

  “Yeah.”

  “And then you came back here?”

  He nodded. “Listen, anyway, there’s something I think I need to tell you. I wasn’t going to, because I just figured it didn’t matter, now that Olivia is gone and all, but I think I need to come clean, because there shouldn’t be secrets between us, you know?”

  “Did you do anything different yesterday?” I said. “Anything at all?” I strode over to the door to the bedroom, which was shut. But before I could open it, the door opened and someone came out.

  She was wearing her hair in a ponytail and her mascara was smudged underneath one eye. The thing that had been attached to Wade’s neck was now attached to hers. It turned on me, mouth widening, and it let out a hissing laugh.

  I stumbled backward.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Did I scare you?”

  I smoothed my hands over my jeans, trying to take this all in.

  “You’re Deacon, right?” She offered me her hand. “Wade talks about you all the time.”

  “Uh…” I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Charlotte,” she said. “Charlotte Horn.”

  “This is Charlotte,” said Wade helpfully from behind her.

  She turned to him. “Um, I can’t find my bra, so if you see it, just put it someplace, and I’ll get it the next time I’m here.”

  “Totally.” Wade bobbed his head.

  She crossed the room to pick up her purse, which was slung over a chair near the door. “Gotta go. Need to shower before Psych.” She opened the door and closed it.

  I stared after her for a minute, trying to to get my thoughts in order.

  “Cool,” said Wade. “It’s really easier to talk to you about this without her here. I mean, it’s all casual between us. We’re just friends, really, but, um, it’s still a little weird to talk about other girls around her. She’s cool with it, though.”

  I pointed at the door. “Did you…?” I looked at him. “I thought after Olivia’s funeral—”

  “Charlotte just shows up sometimes. If she’s ready to go, I’m not going to turn that down, you know?”

  “Hell,” I said. I went over to his couch and sat down heavily.

  “Look, I’m trying to tell you something about Olivia.”

  “Yeah, well, I can’t really concentrate on that right now.”

  “Okay, why not?”

  “You had sex with Charlotte,” I whispered. “And now she’s got it.”

  “Got what?” said Wade.

  “It’s like supernatural herpes.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I stood up again. “Do you have a way to get in touch with Rylan?”

  “Yeah, I have her phone number.”

  I tugged out my phone and pulled up my phone app. “What is it?”

  “You are acting incredibly weird, do you know that? Is this grief? Are you judging me for sleeping with Charlotte? Are you trying to say that because you would never do that, you really did like Olivia more than I did? Because I’m not even having that argument with you again.”

  “I couldn’t care less who you sleep with,” I said. “Now, give me the damned number.”

  * * *

  “What the flying fuck?” said Rylan’s voice on my phone. “How is that any of your business?”

  I was standing outside of Wade’s apartment at the top of the rickety steps. The air was humid and getting more humid by the moment. It was going to be a scorcher. “I know it’s not my business. I’m just trying to nail down a theory here.”

  “And it has to do with my sex life how?”

  “Just have you been with anyone since being in Ridinger Hall?”

  “Is this some kind of sick thing you do that turns you on? Are you jacking off right now?”

  “No,” I said. “I’m outside.”

  “Oh, well, that’s even more freaky.”

  “Look, I’m not… picturing you doing it with some chick, I’m just asking a question.” Okay, at this point, I was now picturing Rylan and a chick. Maybe that Lisa girl from the bar the night before. Maybe Lisa was running her hands over Rylan’s hips and—

  “I should just hang up on you.”

  “Why haven’t you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I will.”

  “Wait, don’t hang up. What about, uh, the other girls in the video? The jumpy screamers?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Do you know their names? Can I find them someplace?”

  “You are a very freaky, weird—”

  “Come on, Rylan, give me something here.”

  “I met them at the coffee shop in town, where I work. They usually come in around 11:00. Sometimes later if it’s Tuesday or Thursday. Classes are an hour and a half on those days. But if you think that you can hit on them because of the youtube thing—”

  “I’m not trying to hit on anyone.” I checked my phone. If I pushed it, I could be to the coffee shop in town before
11:00.

  “Speaking of the coffee shop, I took a break to answer my phone, and I really need to get back—”

  “You’re there? Great. We’ll talk when I get there.” I hung up. I opened the door and poked my head into Wade’s apartment. “I’m going to the coffee shop.”

  Wade was in the shower. He pulled aside the curtain and poked out a wet head. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll come with you.”

  “Can’t,” I said. “Meet me there if you want.” I ducked back out of the door and pounded down the steps and headed for town.

  * * *

  There they were. Three jumpy, pretty chicks in a giggling gaggle around a small, round table in the coffee shop. They all had drinks with whipped cream and chocolate syrup and sprinkles.

  That was a crappy thing about the way society worked, in my opinion. Girls could drink delicious drinks without any crap. But in order to be manly, guys were supposed to drink bitter, unsweet things because it somehow meant we were masculine. Not fair. Seriously.

  Anyway, thing about the girls from the video?

  No barnacles.

  But Rylan?

  She still had hers. She was standing behind the counter, and she didn’t look great, to be honest. She had looked pretty good at the funeral, but now there were dark circles under her eyes and her skin was pale and had a slightly greenish tinge. The barnacle, on the other hand, looked strong. It was more solid and moving more quickly, flitting about her head like an inky serpent. The thing gave me the creeps.

  I approached her.

  “You really came here?” She shook her head at me. “What is your problem?”

  “Could you just tell me if you slept with anyone?”

  “Yes,” she said, glaring at me. “The night I filmed the video, in fact. I hooked up with Ashley.” She pointed at the gaggle of girls.

  “Really?” I surveyed the back of Ashley’s head. No barnacle there at all.