The Ghost Host: Episode 1 (The Ghost Host Series) Page 7

  A few seconds later, a voice starts pouring through my headset. “Okay, so these guys have some kind of ridiculous guns that take me out in one hit. I can’t beat them and the morons I keep getting paired up with are useless. Not to mention I’m stuck using this crap gun until I get ten more headshots.”

  Laughing, I feel for him, I really do. “I was stuck on that bounty for a while, too.”

  The session loads a few seconds later and the banter cuts off abruptly. Kyran is all business as we stalk through the futuristic landscape taking down other online players, racing the clock to get more kills than the other team before time runs out. It’s like playing with Zara, only worse, and with a lot more swearing. Still, I can’t help laughing every time he gets blown away and loving every minute of it.

  “Behind you!” I try to warn him. Half a second later his lifeless avatar goes flying into a wall.

  “A little sooner next time, will ya?” he demands.

  “Sorry,” I say with a laugh.

  The session ends a minute later and Kyran groans as he sees his name at the bottom of the rankings list. A few choice words slip out of his mouth when he sees my name at the top. “Why do I suck at this game so bad?”

  It’s so hard not to laugh at him. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you’re a big Halo fan, right?”

  “How’d you guess?”

  Biting my lip, I try to hold back, but I just can’t. “Uh, all the crazy jumping around gave you away. You can’t play Destiny like you do Halo. The hang time when you jump is deadly.”

  Kyran starts grumbling under his breath about how I only said that because Malachi must have told me to. Holding back a laugh, I just shake my head. “Wanna go again?” I ask. “I’ll try to hold some of them off so you can get a few more headshots at least. That crap gun isn’t helping you out any.”

  “Sure,” Kyran grumbles, “I…” His voice cuts off suddenly, making me worry for some reason, until he yells right in my ear. “In your room!”

  “Geez, Kyran! Trying to make me deaf?” I complain.

  “What? Oh, sorry, Echo. Didn’t mean to yell at you.”

  I start to say it’s okay, but Kyran starts talking again. Not to me, though.

  “Yeah, I said Echo,” he says hotly. “She’s helping me take care of business. What’s your problem?”

  I don’t hear the response, which I can only assume is coming from Malachi. That thought makes me grin, just a little.

  “Facebook. Friend request. Stop acting like a girl. You’re not the only one who’s allowed to talk to her, dude.”

  It’s totally pathetic to admit, but even though I’m pretty enough, no guy has ever gotten jealous over me. Like never ever. Superfans of the show don’t count. They’re more interested in my freaky abilities than me, which really says something about me, I suppose. The fact that Malachi is annoyed at Kyran for asking me to play a game with him is really satisfying. Completely stupid, but satisfying all the same.

  “Echo?” Malachi says through the game. “You there?”

  “Yep. You joining us?” I ask.

  He grumbles something I can’t exactly hear, then says, “Yeah. It’s gonna take more than just you to keep Kyran alive long enough to get the rest of the headshots he needs.”

  Kyran objects rather fiercely, even though he knows it’s true. A few seconds later, any irritation between the two friends is gone and we’re all shouting at the game, trying to warn Kyran and keep him alive, and laughing at our mistakes. As much as I love playing with Holden and Zara, I can’t think of a time when I’ve had more fun, when I didn’t feel like I was constantly being watched for signs of something terrible about to happen.

  “Echo,” my dad says, cutting off the command to go left I was about to shout at Kyran.

  I glance over at him quickly, wincing as I see Kyran get blown away out of the corner of my eye. “Yeah?”

  “I need you to come into the living room with me.”

  I pull my attention away from the game, suddenly noticing how stiff he seems. Worry has his features tight. One of the guys groans as I’m hit with a killing shot. “Dad, is everything okay?”

  He frowns, his fingers tightening where they’re gripping the doorframe. “Any idea why the FBI would be at our house?”

  “What?”

  Shaking his head, he says, “Turn the game off and come to the living room, please.”

  “Sure, of course. I’ll be right there.”

  He turns and walks away, leaving me to shut everything down. It takes me a minute to process what he said and start to panic. “Uh, guys,” I say, breaking into their conversation, “I have to go.”

  “What? No!” Kyran says. “You can’t abandon me yet.”

  “Sorry, but, uh, the FBI is in my living room.”

  Dead silence.

  “Did you just say FBI?” Malachi asks.

  “Yep.”

  “Whoa. You got some hobbies you haven’t mentioned yet?” Kyran asks. He yelps when the sound of Malachi smacking him carries over the line.

  “Echo, call me when you can, okay?” Malachi says. “So I know you’re okay.”

  “I will. Better get going, though.”

  After a hasty goodbye to both guys, I shut down the game and stand. Suddenly, my hands feel cold. Breathing is difficult. My thoughts seem jumbled. I’m not even sure how I manage to put one foot in front of the other, but I end up in the living room doorway a minute later. As soon as I appear, two suit-clad people stand. One is a woman with long, straight hair. The other is an older man with silver at his temples.

  “Echo, please take a seat,” the woman says.

  The fact that they know me by sight really freaks me out. The numbing cold spreads from my fingertips up my arms. I sit down in an armchair next to the loveseat my parents are parked on. I look over at them, not heartened by the fearful expressions on their faces. My stomach turns as I force myself to face the FBI agents.

  “What’s this about?” I ask quietly.

  The older guy looks at me. His expression isn’t kind or unkind. It’s firm, but not in an intimidating way. “One of our agents saw your show this week, and we have a few questions.”

  “The FBI watched my show?” I squeak. Even my parents look pretty taken aback by this news.

  The woman smiles. “Not the FBI as a whole, but Agent Hollis happens to be a fan.”

  I turn back to the guy. Is he Hollis? Doesn’t really seem like the type. As if sensing my question, he says, “I’m sorry, we didn’t introduce ourselves to you as we did your parents. I’m Special Agent Morton and this is Agent Ellington. We were assigned your case.”

  “My case?” I feel sick. I can’t be an FBI case. Surely no college will ever take me if I’m on some kind of FBI watch list, right?

  “It’s more of an inquiry,” Agent Ellington says. “Just a few questions.”

  “About what?” my dad asks. I nod, echoing his question.

  The two agents look at each other. Some agreement passes between them and it’s Ellington who takes the lead. “We just need to ask you about some of the information you mentioned on your last show. The stolen secrets, specifically.”

  “The what?” my dad demands. He looks over to me, like I have all the answers. My mom is staring at me, too. I can see it on both their faces, the panic that this last good year is about to fall apart. It kills me to see the panic in their eyes as they wonder if I’m going to slip back into what I used to be, to the nightmares and failing grades and constant fear. I have to look away from them to escape it all.

  Facing the FBI agents, I say the only thing I can. “I don’t really know anything about it. I know you guys probably think my show is just a big joke, but…it’s not.”

  I hear my dad groan, barely audible, but it cuts me to the core. Tears pool in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I don’t blame them for not believing me, but it doesn’t stop me from wishing it were different.

  “Are you claiming that Madeline Crew actu
ally contacted you in some way, that she gave you the information you wrote on the board during your show?” Agent Ellington asks. I nod slowly and she frowns. “It wasn’t information you found online somewhere?”

  Shaking my head, I try really hard to hold onto my composure. “No. I mean, I tried to look it up later, to see if I could validate it, but I couldn’t find anything about the Nazi secrets. That sort of thing shouldn’t be on the web, right?”

  “That’s exactly the problem,” Agent Morton says. “The fact that Madeline Crew served as an undercover agent during World War Two is not information that has ever been released to the public. Our techs found no mention of it on the internet anywhere…which made us quite interested in how you came to know such a sensitive piece of information.”

  My head starts shaking back and forth. I certainly wasn’t trying to cause any trouble when I asked Madeline that question. It’s the same question I ask most of my guests. She just happened to have a better answer than most. “She shared it with me,” I say quietly, knowing they don’t believe a word of what I’m saying.

  “You’ve been in contact with Madeline’s great grandson, correct?” Agent Ellington asks. “Malachi Fields?”

  The room goes absolutely silent. I can practically feel my dad’s breathing pick up in anger even though he’s a few feet away. I don’t have to ask to know he remembers Malachi’s name from the text he saw the other night. He’s going to kill me. And ground me. I’m so dead.

  “Echo?” Agent Morton asks.

  “Yes,” I whisper. “He emailed my friend Holden after the show. He saw the show and heard his great grandma’s name mentioned. He just wanted to know if it was a joke. I told him it wasn’t.”

  “Then Malachi didn’t tell you about his great grandmother’s service during the war?” Agent Ellington asks.

  Suddenly angry at them, I fold my arms across my chest and glare at the both of them. “If you know I’ve been talking to Malachi, then surely you know I’d never even met him before the show. I had no idea who he was, who his grandmother was, or what she did during the war.”

  “Then how do you explain the information about the Nazi secrets?” Agent Morton asks.

  “I already told you!” I shout. My parents both look mortified, and really freaked out, but I don’t care. “You don’t believe me? Fine. You said yourself that there’s no way I could have known that stuff without access to whatever secret files you guys have. Even if I did, why would I steal information like that and then blab about it on the internet?”

  Agent Ellington is keeping her cool better than I might expect, but she obviously thinks I’m lying, or just plain crazy. “You honestly expect us to believe the ghost of Madeline Crew told you she stole Nazi secrets.”

  “You can believe whatever you want. I don’t have any other answers for you. Make me take a polygraph if you want. I don’t even know why this matters! It was decades ago.”

  “It matters because you have information you shouldn’t,” Agent Morton says calmly.

  Scared, angry, and ready to bolt, it takes everything I have not to run away. “Well, in the future, I’ll make sure to politely ask the ghosts who follow me around all day not to share any state secrets with me, okay?”

  Agent Ellington looks to my parents like they can do something to help. I want to laugh at her for thinking such a stupid thing. I love my parents. They’re good parents overall and they’ve tried to understand me and help me over the years, but they don’t believe me any more than Agent Ellington does. In fact, I can already see my mom pulling up my therapist’s number in her mind, ready to book a few more sessions.

  When the agents finally look back to me, they seem to realize this discussion is going nowhere fast. I know the matter isn’t closed, but they seem to be done harassing me for tonight at least. Slowly, they stand. Agent Ellington is the first to speak.

  “Thank you for allowing us into your home,” she says to my parents, who nod mutely. “We have no further questions at this time, but we may need to revisit this matter in the future.” My dad flinches at her words, but shakes their hands stiffly all the same.

  Agent Morton is the one to stop in front of me after they start walking toward the door. His eyes narrow, though I can’t tell if it’s in anger or if he’s just trying to figure me out. “We will be keeping an eye on you for the time being.”

  “Have fun with that,” I snap. “I lead a pretty boring life overall.”

  The corner of his mouth quirks up, like maybe he doesn’t think I’m a total nutcase. “I spent several years working in Georgia,” he says, surprising me. “I enjoyed my time there.”

  Agent Ellington cocks her head to one side, clearly as caught off guard by his comment as I am. I struggle to respond. “What…I…”

  “I just thought you might like a second opinion, if you’re seriously considering Georgia State in the future.” Agent Morton gives me that same knowing smile. “You are considering it, aren’t you?”

  I’m really, really dead. “Maybe,” I manage to croak.

  Agent Morton nods. He starts to turn away, but then looks back at me. “I’m sure it’s no surprise that we checked into your history quite thoroughly,” he says, making me grimace. No doubt my many years of therapy and less than stellar school record aren’t helping out my claims of ghosts. Agent Morton doesn’t seem to be particularly bothered by that, though. Instead of addressing it, he says, “We checked into Malachi’s as well.”

  Gulping, I mentally cross my fingers. “And?”

  “No red flags, but it’s always wise to be careful.”

  “I’m always careful,” I say quietly. It’s practically all I know.

  Agent Morton takes a card from his breast pocket and hands it to me. “I don’t think a polygraph will be necessary, but that’s not all we’re good for. If you’re ever interested, we have agents who would be very interested in talking to you about your experiences. You’re also welcome to call if you need more information about Georgia or its residents. ”

  I’m pretty sure my mouth falls open at both offers. I’m not sure if anyone else heard what he said, but he turns away from me and back to my parents, thanking them again for their time and excusing himself and his partner. I stand there with the card in my hand until I hear the front door click closed. There are a few precious moments of silence before utter chaos breaks loose.

  9: Long Distance Comfort

  (Echo)

  It honestly takes me a few minutes to realize my parents are both yelling at me. The idea that the FBI, well Special Agent Morton at least, might actually believe me is too impossible to really grasp. Is there really anything they could do to help me? It’s all so overwhelming, it takes my dad grabbing my arm and shaking me to get my attention.

  “Echo, what on earth was that all about?”

  “How could you tell them you’re seeing ghosts?” my mom wails.

  Her expression is tortured, as if she really believed when I stopped talking about ghosts it was because I didn’t “think” I was seeing them anymore. Part of me feels bad that her world seems to be falling apart. The rest of me…I just stare at her, angry she never believed me, furious I’ve spent the last year hiding a huge chunk of who I am because she simply can’t handle dealing with it.

  Instantly, I feel guilty for thinking that. She’s done a lot for me. Tried so hard. The only approach she couldn’t bring herself to take when it came to helping me was believing what I told her. Can I really blame her for that?

  “Echo, you need to start talking, right now,” my dad says tightly.

  I look up at him and shrug. I’m so tired of having this same fight. “What do you want me to say, Dad?”

  “Why did you tell the FBI all those things?” my mom asks tearfully. I honestly can’t tell in that moment if she’s so upset because she thinks I’m losing it, or because she’s embarrassed I’m still clinging to what she calls my childhood fantasies.

  “I said them because they’re true.”
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br />   “They are not true,” she says, her head shaking back and forth so quickly it looks like she’s twitching.

  All I can do in response is shrug. I won’t stand here all night defending myself to them. It hasn’t worked in eighteen years. Why would it start working now? I turn to leave, but my dad grabs my arm. When I look up at him, I’m shocked by the anger I see.

  “The ghost show, it’s over.” The way he says it sounds so final. He’s reached his limit, drawn a proverbial line in the sand.

  I suppose it should scare me, make me panic, but it doesn’t. Maybe it’s the emotional upheaval of the last half hour. Maybe I’ve just reached my own limit. Maybe knowing there is at least one person in this world outside of Holden and Zara who actually believes me gives me the strength I’ve been trying to find for years. I don’t know what it is, but my dad’s threat doesn’t have the effect he’s expecting.

  Sighing, I look up at him with a strange sense of calm. “Dad, I know you’re just trying to protect me…or protect the rest of the family from me. I’m not really sure anymore, but I do know you can’t stop me from doing the show.”

  My mom and dad seem more shaken by my calm response than my earlier freaking out and yelling. Dad recovers first and barrels on. “You are living in our house, and under our rules. This show, it was all just a game at first, but now we have the FBI showing up at our house! You’re not doing even one more episode, and if you think we can’t enforce that, you’re sorely mistaken, young lady.”

  “If you try,” I say quietly, “I’ll leave.”

  The sound of my mom bursting into tears kills me, but I can’t let myself feel it right now. I shove away any hint of emotion, knowing I desperately need to get through this conversation in one piece if I have any chance of keeping my life from falling apart again. It takes every ounce of courage I have left in my trembling body to face my dad head on. When our gazes lock, I see how drained, how scared he looks, and it hits me squarely in the chest.