The Ghost Host: Episode 1 (The Ghost Host Series) Page 28

  Every answer just seems to spawn more questions. It’s exhausting. Desperate for answers but constantly coming up short takes a toll on you. I suppose it’s my fault for dumping the research on Holden’s shoulders for so long and pretty much closing my eyes to all of it. That has to change, I know that, but even Holden has never heard of Keepers or what killed Archer. At first he thought they might be shades—beings that can basically eat ghosts’ souls—but that wouldn’t explain Archer’s body vanishing or why they haven’t come after the ghosts who’re always hanging around me. Archer is the only one holding any cards right now. Unfortunately it seems to be a lousy hand.

  “Keepers, can you at least explain that?”

  I was so emotionally and physically beat after everything yesterday, even when I tried to ask Archer about Keepers, he insisted I take a break and get some rest. Agent Morton agreed and actually spent most of the afternoon at my apartment making sure no one bothered me. Malachi especially. They’re not on good terms right now.

  “Keepers,” Archer explains, “are basically protectors of anyone with a spiritual connection to the veil.”

  “Veil?”

  Archer nods. “The barrier between the living world and the spiritual world. People call it different things, but that’s what my grandpa called it. We watch over mediums, clairvoyants, some mentalists and psychics who are in contact with spirits or spiritual energy. People like that.”

  “Why?”

  Giving me a pointed look, Archer says, “Why do you get involved with ghosts?” He pauses and shrugs. “It’s just something we’re born to do. Can’t escape it even if you try.”

  “But it’s different than me. You said you’d know when you found the person you were supposed to protect, right?”

  “Yeah,” Archer says slowly, “but it’s not like you were the only person I could protect. We were…compatible. Your needs fit my abilities, I guess. Same with Malachi.”

  I glance back at Malachi, who’s listening attentively just as everyone else in the car is as I relay Archer’s answers, but he isn’t looking directly at me. More questions about this compatibility thing swim around in my mind. Asking them out loud is not going to happen. Yes I want to know if that compatibility goes beyond needs and skills, if that’s the reason I fell for both Archer and Malachi so quickly, but it will have to wait until Archer and I can speak privately.

  As deep as my feelings go for both men, it makes me uncomfortable to think I might have reacted to something outside my control. Is falling in love with someone because it’s almost predestined in a way different than falling in love with someone for no reason at all? I can’t stop my eyes from drifting over to Kyran. He admitted his feelings, and I can’t deny there’s a spark of something there for him inside of me as well. Everything is so screwed up right now I can’t even contemplate figuring out what any of this means right now.

  “There will be time for all of that later,” Agent Morton says quietly from the driver’s seat.

  My head whips over to stare at him. What did he just say? His expression is completely neutral, like he didn’t even say anything, but I know I didn’t imagine him speaking. Does he simply understand what thoughts are most likely running through my head right now because he’s a smart guy and raised two daughters, or is there another reason? I’ve yet to figure out what Agent Morton’s supernatural ability is, but I hesitate to jump to conclusions.

  Focusing on Archer, who’s sitting on the console between me and Agent Morton, I ask, “If the ghost killers get to me, what will happen?”

  Flinching, Archer hesitates to answer. “Do you understand how spiritual energy works?”

  “What do you mean, ‘how spiritual energy works’?”

  My first gut reaction is to turn to Holden for help, but he’s in the second car with Cerise and Zara. Why Cerise insisted on joining us when she found out about the trip to the old estate, I don’t really know. When we first met, her enthusiasm about the show pegged her as a superfan, but I’m beginning to think there’s more to it than that. A question for another time, though.

  Instead of having to call Holden for an answer, Kyran offers up an explanation in his place. “Spiritual energy is like that weird powder science teachers will use to teach you about how germs are spread. Luminol, I think. They’ll put it on one object, have a student touch it, then have the class go about their normal business. At the end of class the teacher pulls out a black light and practically the whole room lights up.”

  I’m not the only one who seems confused by his explanation. Malachi finally looks at me, hoping I understood what he clearly didn’t. Nope. Seeing that we don’t get it, Kyran continues. “Every ghost you ‘touch’ leaves an imprint of their spiritual energy on you, and you on them. It connects you. In haunting instances, it binds them to a person or place until someone breaks the connection.”

  Leaning back against his seat, Malachi considers this information. “What does this have to do with the ghost killers and Echo?”

  “When you and I met,” Archer says, “we formed a connection. When they killed me, it ripped that connection away and hurt you badly.”

  “That’s why I couldn’t remember what had happened, or anything about you?” I ask as an ache builds in my chest. Archer nods and I feel the truth of it immediately. “It wasn’t just trauma, they stole those memories when they killed you.”

  Archer nods slowly, but the way he holds himself says there’s more and I brace myself for whatever else he needs to say. “If they kill you, Echo, it won’t just hurt the ghosts you’ve helped. You were protected when I died because I was alive when they got to me, and because I’m a Keeper. The ghosts you’ve interacted with won’t have that. If they kill you, it will destroy them. They won’t crossover or move on. They’ll simply cease to exist and those monsters will consume their energy, becoming more powerful, more able to kill.”

  I feel in that moment exactly as I did when I fell out of the tree as a child. Breathing is impossible. My brain and body shut down as I think about all the ghosts who’ve come to me over the past eighteen years. It’s not a small number, not an inconsequential amount of energy they hold. What kind of damage could these devouring monsters do with all of that?

  ***

  (Malachi)

  Part of me had this tiny hope that the termite tent would still be in place as we pull up to Grandma Maddie’s house. I want to protect Echo and get rid of these soul eating psychotic whatevers, but we know almost nothing about them. No clue how to fight them, escape them, nothing. I’m convinced now that they are what Kyran felt the night my great grandma died.

  I don’t know any more if the men we saw standing over her really were just there to break into the house the same night by chance or if they were somehow in league with these things that are after Echo. All I know now is the men in the house grabbed Kyran and I when we ran down the stairs. We screamed and fought back as much as our eleven-year-old bodies could manage. Neither of us considered how our yelling would wake up my sisters and send them running down the stairs after us.

  My sisters may look like delicate ladies, but they weren’t about to let anything happen to us if they could help it. I could see the terror in all of their eyes as the guy holding me threw me into the wall to confront them, but all three of my sisters launched themselves off the stairs at the men. Their rescue was short lived.

  I cringe thinking about Angel May being slapped so hard she fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, blood pouring from her lip as her eyes rolled back. Hannah Louise and Katie Lynn lasted longer. Kyran even tried to jump up from where he’d been knocked down to help them while I limped to Angel May to make sure she was all right, but it didn’t make any difference.

  Hannah Louise swore a blue streak at them as they tied her up, but Katie Lynn just sobbed and held her side to protect herself from another kick. She wasn’t the only one crying. Angel May was still unconscious as they yanked her out of my grip and tied her hands and feet, but tears we
re pouring down my face as I berated myself for not being able to protect her. Sporting a huge bruise across his cheek, Kyran glared furiously at the nearest man as tears dripped down his face.

  The whole time, Grandma Maddie was less than five feet away. Her thin body lay twisted awkwardly on the blood soaked carpet. There was no doubt in any of our minds that she was dead. All our eyes were drawn to her as we sat huddled together, tied up like hogs about to be dragged off to the butcher. Tears fell more freely, but the real sobbing didn’t start until the men started dragging us away from her, down the hall to the basement door.

  Nothing was stolen after we were thrown into the basement and locked in. The police said they must have been too scared to finish what they started and just ran. It didn’t really make sense even then, but no one wanted to think about it hard enough to raise more questions. Now, all I have is questions. Archer’s body vanished when he was killed, but my grandma is buried in the Albert cemetery. Archer also turned into this weird monster ghost while Grandma Maddie, from what Echo described, looks pretty much the same as she did in life.

  When Echo relayed my questions to Archer, he didn’t have any answers. Does my great grandma? Archer’s been hanging around since Echo’s hypnosis session. She and Agent Morton were both vague on the details of what happened during that, but we all knew the second Echo showed back up at the apartment that something was different. She was different. Her energy, the way she carried herself, her confidence.

  Don’t get me wrong, she’s scared and plenty freaked out, but there’s something about her now that’s changed the way she sees the world. I don’t know what that is, or even if it’s a good or bad thing, but I do understand that it’s an important change. Archer is the reason behind it, I have no doubt. It makes me wonder what will happen to Echo when he’s gone.

  “I really don’t want to be here,” Kyran says quietly as he walks up beside me. It’s the first time he’s spoken to me of his own free will since that morning with Echo.

  Tentative to respond, all I say is, “Yeah. Same here.”

  He continues on, not looking back at me as he follows the others up to the veranda. I didn’t hear Holden pull up, but he and Zara are only a few steps behind Kyran. Cerise stops next to me and threads her arm through mine. “You doing okay?” When I shrug in response, she squeezes my arm. “Let’s just get through this and then you and Echo will be able to work things out.”

  So far, she’s the only one who hasn’t threatened me with bodily harm after sleeping with Echo. Maybe it’s because she sees me as her little brother and feels a need to protect me from their scorn. Echo is her hero, so I expected a little hostility from her too, but she’s only offered comfort and understanding. That’s Cerise, though. She’s made her share of bad decisions and she’s not one to attack another person for messing up when she sees herself as far from perfect as well.

  As kindhearted and compassionate as she is, I still wonder why she asked to come with us today. Watching a YouTube show is a far cry from signing up for Ghost Hunting 101 with a crew that has no clue what they’re doing—possibly with the exception of Agent Morton, though no one really knows for sure what experience he has with soul-eating, murderous ghosts. The idea of her being hurt today makes me sick and I hesitate to let her jump into something I’m not sure she understands. There’s no doubt in my mind this will be dangerous.

  “You don’t have to go in.”

  Cerise takes a deep breath. “I know.”

  “Then why are you?”

  Her hands are shaking as she tightens her grip on my arm, but she forces one corner of her mouth up in a rueful smile. “Haven’t you ever wondered how I found Echo’s show that first week? Did you never think it was strange that a European literature major would be so fascinated by ghosts?”

  “I just thought you liked her show because it was interesting,” I admit. I’d never really considered why Cerise would latch onto something so out of character for her.

  Cerise pats my arm before letting go and straightening her blouse. “Well, there are reasons,” she says, “and it’s not because I’m studying up to be an extra on Supernatural, though I definitely wouldn’t say no to meeting Sam and Dean.”

  Pitching an eyebrow at her, I say, “And you’re not going to tell me the real reason?”

  “Later,” she says, “Echo has enough to deal with right now, don’t you think?”

  She doesn’t give me a chance to find a response to her cryptic answer. Why would telling me her story make things more difficult for Echo? Knowing I won’t get an answer, I shrug it off and jog up to where everyone is waiting for me to unlock the door and possibly unleash an enemy none of us knows how to defeat.

  34: Power and Purpose

  (Echo)

  Everything feels wrong. I glance over at Malachi and Kyran first, thinking they’ll be the ones to recognize something isn’t right before anyone else, and I get all the confirmation I need from the strained expressions on their faces. They aren’t alone. Everyone with us feels the claustrophobic oppressiveness of this building. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling. I felt it when Archer died, only for a few brief seconds, but reliving the memory imprinted the queasy, unnatural feel of death on my soul forever.

  If that wasn’t enough to convince me, the fact that not a single ghost other than Archer followed me inside the house says everything I need to know about what we’re going to face.

  “Do you see anything?” Agent Morton asks.

  “If I do see something, I’m certainly not keeping it to myself,” I say. More likely than not, everyone within a five mile radius will know when I see something. I have lots of practice at screaming.

  Agent Morton almost scowls, but not quite. “Give me a little warning if you can.”

  Not making any promises there. Turning away from him, I survey the surroundings. Stairs to the right lead to the upper floors. There are doors on either side of the wide entryway we’re standing in, but all I can see of the rooms from here is furniture draped in white cloths and dust motes swimming through the sunlight filtering in between the shutter slats. The entryway itself is disturbing, though I can’t pinpoint why until I look down at my feet.

  Years of wear and sunlight have left a distinct pattern on the hardwood floors. A carpet runner is missing, judging by the outline. I start to wonder why it was moved when everything else seems to have been left in place and simply covered. Movement from behind me unblocks one of the entry windows and a sick feeling wells in the pit of my stomach. The discoloration of the floor is somewhat faded, but impossible not to notice. There’s no question in my mind about the source.

  Blood.

  When I drag my gaze away from the stain and missing runner, I notice Malachi and Kyran struggling to do the same. I don’t know the details of what happened here the night Madeline died, but it’s plain that it scarred them both deeply. Not wanting to be here longer than necessary—or keep them in this house and prolong their pain—I turn to Malachi.

  “Where’s the closet you’re supposed to look in?” My hope is that we can grab whatever Madeline left for Malachi and split. I’m not stupid enough to believe it will actually be that easy, but the desire to cross my fingers and toes for luck is hard to resist.

  It takes Malachi a moment to look up at me and respond. He shakes himself and redirects his gaze away from the blood stains. “Just down the hall, under the stairs.” He gestures down the hallway we’re standing in to where the wall supporting the stairs dips in and the hall widens.

  Nobody moves. Cerise’s hand slips into Holden’s. Everyone else just seems to tense up, like we’re all waiting for someone else to take the first step. Archer’s presence hovers next to me. I know he isn’t keen on facing down the creatures that killed him, but it’s the only way to release him from his torment. I shouldn’t be able to say that for certain. I know it’s true somehow. Whatever they did to Archer’s body, it bound his soul on Earth, slowly killing him in a way they couldn’t during their
first attack.

  I don’t know how to save him. Not the specific details, anyway. Confronting these beings is the key. Where that will lead me, I have no idea, but it’s time to stop running away from my inheritance.

  My foot feels like lead as I take the first step. Archer flinches next to me, but moves forward as well. That one movement seems to get everyone going, though Holden gestures for Cerise to hang back behind the others. Malachi steps up even with me but doesn’t push my hesitant pace. It’s barely more than ten steps before we hit the corner of the wall and I have to take a deep breath to steel my desire to run.

  This time it’s Agent Morton who gives me the strength I need. One hand on my shoulder, he offers it a gentle squeeze and a weight feels as though it’s been lifted. I don’t know what his abilities are, but this isn’t his first spooky weird rodeo. He wouldn’t have agreed to come along on this likely ill-advised trip when I proposed it—with or without him—unless he had some confidence in his ability to protect at least me. I’m an asset, after all. I know his concern for me goes deeper than that, but right now his training is exactly what I need to convince myself to step around the corner.

  A plain, six-panel wooden door is the reward for my bravery. The paint is peeling on the top left corner, and thousands of times being opened and closed has worn away even more paint along the edges, but it’s a solid door. Fearing it might be locked and breaking it down won’t be easy, I hesitate reaching for the antique glass doorknob.

  Seeming somewhat comforted by the sight of the door, Malachi reaches forward and closes his hand around the knob, twisting, and releasing the catch. The door pops open just enough to pass the jamb. Malachi and Kyran both heave in a breath, though I’m not sure if it’s from relief that simply opening the closet didn’t set something off, or fear of what opening it all the way will reveal. I can’t answer that for myself either. I half expected the ghost killers to burst out of the door as soon as we opened it.