2 Whispering (6 page)

I’m not going to lie, the hike up two sets of darkened stairs – the only light emanating from two emergency exit signs – to the second floor landing was one of the most terrifying ordeals in my entire life. Yeah, that includes almost being killed by a band of vigilante werewolves. I kept imagining that someone was going to jump out of the darkness that spread all around me from a few feet away and I would never be heard from again.

I actually imagined fifty years into the future and what the students would be like and how they would talk about the urban legend of the blonde freshman that disappeared in Barnes Hall never to be heard from again. Yeah, I watch too many slasher flicks. It has totally skewed my view on reality.

When I finally did make it to the second floor, I felt as if my heart was hammering so hard it would literally fly out of my chest. Either I need to start working out more or I’m terrified – or maybe both.

When I opened the door to the second floor, I only pushed it open a few inches. Then I paused to listen. I kept telling myself that I would have the chance to run if there was a zombie on the floor. Zombies were slow moving – unless they were those terrifying fast zombies from the
Dawn of the Dead
remake. If there was a vampire or a werewolf up here I was going to be in some serious trouble.

I realized I had been holding my breath for a few minutes when I suddenly felt lightheaded. I let my breath out with what I hoped was a silent whoosh and gasped in some fresh air. In the eerie silence of the second floor, it sounded like I was scuba diving. I could only hope a
Sharknado
didn’t land at this moment because it would be open season on me in this environment. I was having trouble seeing anything, and my eyes were taking longer than I would have liked to adjust to the new darkness on the second floor.

The good news is that the second floor wasn’t completely dark. I looked left and right down the hall and saw that there was a window on each end that was letting natural sunlight filter into the hall. Unfortunately, that seemed to be the only light source available to me.

I had made the decision that I had imagined the noise – all four times – and was moving to run down the steps and out of the building when I heard another door slam. This one was so close my teeth rattled from the reverberations. Crap.

I stepped out into the hallway – making sure that I was safely in the middle of the window-filtered light – and narrowed my eyes as I tried to stare down the hallway. Was someone there? Did I just see a hint of movement along the wall? Can alligators climb stairs, because I swear I see something with a tail?

I was just about to work myself up into a proper frenzy when the classroom door two feet in front of me and to the right flew open and then slammed shut again. I took a step towards the door and waited. This time when the door flew open and started to slam shut I shot my arm out to stop it. I peered around the door and into the empty classroom. I was relieved when I saw that one of the windows on the far side of the room was open. The curtain at the window was billowing from the breeze wafting in.

I blew out a relieved sigh and squelched my delirious laughter as I strode across the room and slammed the window shut. All of this for an open window? I felt like an idiot. You can imagine my surprise when I heard the door – which I had left propped open – slam shut behind me again.

Have you ever been so scared that you physically can’t move? I can’t say I’ve ever felt that particular feeling before – but I did now. My mind was screaming for me to move, and yet I couldn’t move. My legs screaming for me to run, and yet I couldn’t run. My stomach was screaming for me to throw up, but I was afraid if I did that I would choke to death on my own vomit.

“Oh, great, another idiot student come to see what all the noise is about.”

The voice shook me to my core – and yet it also had the power to unfreeze my limbs. I turned around slowly, afraid of what I might find. What if it was another deranged witch like Tara? What if it was a guy dressed up in a rubber suit like
American Horror Story
? What if it was someone wearing polyester?

What I found should have scared the living daylights out of me, but after all the scenarios I had run through my own mind over the last five minutes a teenage girl couldn’t really work me up into much of a frenzy. Yeah, a teenage girl. That’s the horror that was waiting for me on the other side of the room.

“What are you doing up here? You scared the shit out me!” I exploded, all of my pent up anxiety flowed out of my mouth like a waterfall. “Christ! I thought you were a zombie or something.”

The girl froze at my outburst. I didn’t blame her. I probably looked like a deranged freak.

I took a deep breath and regarded the still silent student across the room from me. What was she doing up here anyway? Probably smoking pot, I rationalized. This was a great place for it. No one would ever look for her up here.

Under the light of the window, the girl looked relatively normal. She had long blonde hair – which spread to the middle of her back – and a fresh peaches and cream complexion that told me she didn’t spend a lot of time worshipping the sun like I did in the summer. Her face was round and welcoming and her lips were pursed in sudden indecision. She was probably worried I was going to report her for being up here.

“I won’t tell anyone you were up here,” I offered lamely. “You can go on smoking pot, or whatever it is you were doing, and I won’t tell a soul.” Quite frankly, some pot sounded pretty calming for me right now, too. Maybe she would offer me some.

“You can see me?”

The girl’s voice was quiet, forlorn. She looked both lost and hopeful at the same time. Her blue eyes were filled with a certain loneliness that I could barely fathom. I didn’t understand.

“What do you mean? You’re right there.”

The girl took a step towards me, bringing her body further into the light of the window, and I couldn’t stop the gasp from ripping from my throat. The minute she had stepped further into the light I saw what I had missed upon first glance. I could see right through her. She was there, but she wasn’t. Crap.

“You’re a ghost!” I blurted out the sentence, knowing it sounded ridiculous, and yet suddenly fearful that not only was I right, but it was a mistake to utter the words out loud.

“No I’m not,” the girl scoffed. “I’ve just been locked up on this floor for the past two weeks. That’s why I’ve been slamming the doors.” The girl sounded like she was trying to convince herself of this fact just as much as me.

Huh. Could she not know she was dead? If that’s the case, I’m certainly not going to tell her.

“Oh,” I said in what I hoped was a helpful tone. “The door must have just been jammed. You can leave now.”

“That’s good,” the ghost said. “I was starting to get really worried that I would starve up here.”

Do ghosts feel hunger?

“My name is Lisa Hawkins,” she said, extending her hand for me to shake. That would be a dead giveaway, though, that she was dead so I pretended I didn’t see the gesture.

“I’m Zoe Lake. I was just in a class downstairs when I heard the door slamming. I just wanted to see what it was.”

“I’ve been trying to get someone’s attention forever,” Lisa said, smoothing the front of her paisley shirt down as she did. It appeared she could affect her own environment but not the real world. Except that she could slam the door – so that didn’t really make sense either. Quite frankly, none of this made sense.

“What are you doing up here?”

“I had class,” Lisa said. “I was leaving late one night and I thought I heard someone behind me. I blacked out and woke up here. I’ve been trying to get someone to notice me for the past two weeks. You were the first.”

“Lisa,” I started, not sure where I was going to go from here. “Don’t you think it’s odd that no one has come up here in the past two weeks?” I glanced down at her bell-bottoms and wondered if, perhaps, Lisa didn’t have a full grasp on the passage of time. Of course, bell-bottoms had come back into style a few years ago. Maybe she just didn’t keep up on clothing trends?

Lisa considered my question. “I didn’t really think about it.” Lisa furrowed her brow as she mulled something over in her own mind. “Do you think . . . maybe . . . I’m dead?”

Well, that was a loaded question. “I think it’s a distinct possibility. Why do you ask?”

“Every time the janitor comes up here and I see him I’ve tried to talk to him. He doesn’t seem to see me, though.”

“Yeah, that might be a hint,” I agreed.

“I just thought he was a drunk.”

“He could be,” I offered lamely.

“But you can see me?”

“I can,” I admitted. I didn’t add the fact that I really wished I couldn’t.

“Why can you see me and no one else can?”

That was a really good question. “Just lucky, I guess.”

“If I leave here, will other people be able to see me?”

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “Have you tried?”

“I can’t open the door to get down the stairs.”

“I think you can just walk through it.”

“Probably.”

“You should try,” I said. I was starting to feel really sorry for Lisa Hawkins. I was also starting to feel like I needed to get out of this building and wash the day’s creepiness off me. “You want to go down with me?”

Lisa looked doubtful. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

I decided to go for broke. “Do you know how you died?”

Lisa bit her lip and shook her head. “No. I think I was knocked out, but I have no idea what happened after that. It’s like I know I’m dead, but I keep forgetting. I know that doesn’t make any sense.”

“That’s a bummer.”

“Yeah. Do you think my mom knows? Do you think they’ve found my body yet and told her?”

“I don’t know,” I hedged. “I mean, I haven’t heard of any bodies being found.” I didn’t know if that would be helpful or harmful to her.

I saw Lisa’s form start to waiver in the light. I couldn’t help but wonder if she would disappear now that she realized she was dead. I mean really realized it. I think she’d had an idea about her current situation for a while now, she just didn’t want to admit it. “Are you okay?”

Lisa was almost completely gone now. “I just have to think,” she said finally. “Come back in a few days. I’ll talk to you then.”

With those words, Lisa was gone and I was alone.  “This has been a really crappy day,” I muttered as I made my way out of the classroom and back down the stairs. “A really crappy day.”

At least a ghost was better than a rogue werewolf. I think.

I couldn’t get back to the dorms fast enough. The fact that the light was still waning at an early hour, combined with my recent encounter with a ghost had me practically running back to the dorms in a terrified frenzy.

I was out of breath when I finally got back to my room and I was relieved that Paris was alone in the common room when I got there. “You’re never going to believe the day I had!”

Paris smirked when she saw me. I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom and realized I looked like I had completely lost my mind.

“Did you make out with Aric?” Paris asked. “Is that why your hair looks like a windstorm landed on you?”

I wish. Wait, what? No, I don’t wish that. I really don’t wish that. I’m seventy-five percent sure I don’t wish that. Okay, maybe more like fifty percent. Yeah, reality is more like thirty percent. I’m totally off-topic here, though.

“No, I did not make out with Aric. Why would you think that?”

“Well, your cheeks are all flushed and your hair is a mess,” Paris said. “I know you weren’t working out, so what else could it be?”

I hate her sometimes, I swear. “How about I saw a ghost,” I practically exploded. “And how many times do I have to tell you I don’t like Aric?”

Paris regarded me dubiously. “When you start believing it, I’ll start believing it. Go back to the ghost, though. You really saw one? A real live one?”

“She wasn’t alive,” I corrected Paris. “She was dead and yet she was there. I could see through her.”

“Where?”

I explained about my experiences in Barnes Hall. Paris was quiet, for the most part, but she did interject questions every now and then. When I was done, I looked to her expectantly. “Well?”

“That would have been a much better story if it ended with you making out with Aric,” Paris said finally.

I know. “I’m serious, Paris. Why can I see ghosts? She says other people can’t see her.”

“Maybe you’re just special,” Paris said, although I could tell that’s not what she was really thinking.

“Or maybe I’m cursed?” I countered.

“I don’t think that’s a curse,” Paris waved dismissively. “That’s actually an ability that a lot of people seek out. It’s coveted.”

“How do you know that?”

“My family,” Paris said simply. Her family had long been a topic of conversation between the two of us. She was from a coven of earth witches – and she knew a heck of a lot more about the supernatural than I did. Unfortunately, she only doled out these little pearls of wisdom when it suited her.

“Well, how do you get rid of the ability?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Paris laughed. “You were obviously born with it.”

“Great, just great. Why couldn’t I have been born with the super model gene? That would have been so much better,” I grumbled.

“I don’t know, this is a pretty great ability,” Paris argued.

“How do you figure?”

“If you can talk to ghosts then you can learn from them. They can tell you things. Warn you when there’s trouble. Help you find things. I’m telling you, this is a great ability.”

“Why would I have it?” A niggling suspicion was starting to form in the back of my mind.

“I don’t know,” Paris said evasively. I could tell right away that she was skirting something.

“You’re lying. Tell me the truth.”

Paris sighed. She didn’t seem all that offended that I had just called her a liar. “I’ve been doing some research,” she admitted.

“What kind of research?” I asked warily.

Paris got to her feet and started to pace. “I knew there had to be a reason that Professor Blake was so interested in you.”

I sank down in the armchair and watched Paris pace. She obviously had something big she wanted to tell me.

“At first, I thought they were just interested in you because of where you were from,” she continued. “I mean the odds of you living in that town for your whole life and not realizing it is riddled with werewolves is just . . . well . . . kind of ridiculous.”

“I didn’t know,” I protested.

“I know,” Paris said hurriedly. “At first I thought you were just covering. Then I realized you really didn’t know. Either they’re really good at hiding their identities up there or you’re really oblivious to things.”

“They’re really good at hiding things,” I confirmed. I might be really self-absorbed, too, but I didn’t voice that acknowledgement.

“You’re not a werewolf, though,” Paris continued. “As far as I could tell, you’re not anything.”

Hey, that was a little hurtful.

“So I started doing some research, like I said,” Paris continued. “And I found something interesting.”

“What?”

“I think, and this is just a guess,” Paris cautioned me. “I think you’re an amplifier.”

I sank further back in my chair as Paris’ words sank in. “What’s an amplifier?”

“Pretty much what you would expect,” Paris said.

“The only thing I know about amplifiers is that they make music really loud,” I prodded her.

“Well, it’s the same theory,” Paris said. “I just think you’re a magical amplifier.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means that you have the ability to boost the powers of other magical beings. “

“Like witches?”

“Yeah,” Paris said. “That could be why Tara was so interested in you.”

“Why didn’t she tell me?”

Paris shrugged. “Maybe she thought you knew.”

“What else could I amplify?”

“I don’t know,” Paris admitted. “I think the possibilities are endless. There are different kinds of amplifiers, though. Some have magical powers of their own. Some absorb powers from those around them. Some just boost powers in other beings. I have no idea which one you would be.”

“Theorize,” I ordered.

“Well, if I’m right, I think you could make amulets more powerful.”

“Amulets? Like magical amulets? What is this,
Harry Potter
?”

“Magical amulets are real,” Paris said. “I’ve never actually seen one, but I’ve heard about them.”

“What else?” I pinched the bridge of my nose to relieve the pressure that was starting to build in my sinuses.

“I think you also might be able to boost the power of vampires and werewolves.”

“Huh?”

“Make them more powerful.”

A cold feeling started to creep into my gut. That would explain why both Aric and Rafael had sought me out. They wanted to consolidate their power bases.

Paris saw the frown on my face and she wisely figured out what I was suddenly thinking. “I don’t think they know.”

“How could they not? They’ve both been interested in me from the minute they saw me.”

“I think they sense there’s something different about you, but they have no idea what it is,” Paris said soothingly.

“But they’re both attracted to me because of it.”

“I don’t think that’s just it,” Paris said hurriedly.

“What about Blake? Do you think he knows?”

“Now that’s a different story,” Paris said. “I do think he knows. I also think he believes that you know and you’re just lying to him to be difficult.”

“Well, if I did know, that’s totally something I would do,” I conceded.

Paris sat back down on the couch and regarded me seriously. “I don’t know for a fact that any of this is true. It’s just a hunch.”

“Why did you tell me now?”

“Because seeing ghosts is something most amplifiers can do,” Paris admitted. “You have a stronger magical influence than normal people. That’s why you can see them and others can’t.”

“So only these amplifiers can see ghosts?”

“No,” Paris shook her head. “A lot of supernaturals can see ghosts. It’s not relegated to just amplifiers. It depends on how powerful the supernatural being is.”

Well, that was a small bit of good news. I think. “What about witches?”

“Some witches can see them,” Paris said. “Not all, though.”

“Can you?”

“I don’t know,” Paris admitted. “Not that I know of. I’ve never been in a position to find out.”

“Maybe you should come to see my ghost?” I suggested hopefully.

“I can do that,” Paris said carefully.

I jumped to my feet hurriedly, an idea suddenly resurfacing. I walked over to my laptop, opened it and logged on to Google.

“What are you doing?” Paris walked up behind me to watch curiously.

I didn’t answer her. Instead, I typed the name Lisa Hawkins and Covenant College into the search engine and waited for the results to come up. I was surprised when I saw a few links pop up right away.

“Who is Lisa Hawkins?”

“The ghost I met today.”

“I thought you said she died two weeks ago?” Paris looked confused as she read over my shoulder. I was right there with her.

“That’s what she thought.”

“You didn’t believe her, though?”

“Let’s just say her clothes were a little . . . dated.”

“Maybe she just wasn’t up on the styles?”

“I considered that. It just didn’t feel right, though,” I said.

“Well, it looks like you were right,” Paris inhaled deeply. “Lisa Hawkins went missing in 1975. It doesn’t sound like a body was ever found, though. She’s obviously been trapped in that building for a lot longer than two weeks.”

“Great. A hippy ghost.”

“Do you think she knows?”

“I doubt it,” I said. “She was wondering if her mother knew she was dead yet. Cripes. Her mother could very well be dead now.”

“Maybe that’s where she went,” Paris said. “To see her mother.”

“Maybe,” I agreed. “Or maybe she just realized that she’s been dead for a really long time and it was too much for her to bear.”

“That’s a possibility, too,” Paris agreed.

“Crap!”

Paris jumped at the tone of my voice – and its decibel level. “What?”

“Why can’t I have one normal day? Just one.”

“You’re not a normal person,” Paris smiled at me. “You’re an extraordinary person. Isn’t that what Zach said to you the other day?”

“Don’t remind me,” I groaned. “The guy who walks around with uneven hair and shirt sleeves thinks I’m extraordinary. That should look great on my transcripts.”

“You’re just going to have to face it,” Paris said blithely. “You’re not a normal person and you’re not going to have a normal life.”

“Yeah, I get it,” I said. “Why does my life have to be such a soap opera, though?”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

Luck? More like a curse. I really do hate this day.