Spirit Legacy (21 page)

“Yes.”

“Do you trust that I understand a lot about this kind of thing?”

“Yes.”

“Then I want you to trust me when I tell you what I’m about to say.” She shifted forward in her chair “Your aunt is going to be here very soon, and I’m sure you’ve been wondering what exactly you should say to her. It is very important that you tell her the truth.”

I tried to sit up and failed. “But I can’t! She’ll think I’m—”

Annabelle placed a gentle but firm hand on my shoulder, keeping me still. “You don’t know what she’ll think. You can’t know until you tell her. But you must tell her.”

“But—”

“—Jessica, listen! I can’t say for sure what happened to you, but I think I understand enough to know that you must tell your aunt! Now! Tonight!”

“Do you think my aunt will actually be able to tell me what’s happening?”

Annabelle was silent for a moment. “Yes. And if she doesn’t, she should be able to take you to someone who can.”

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe evenly again. I felt like I was going to vomit at any moment. Nothing made sense, nothing she was saying made any sense. “But she knows about Evan. She knows what happened first semester, because the dean told her. If she knew something about what’s been going on, why wouldn’t she have told me then?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure she’ll have her reasons,” Annabelle said.

“Why can’t you just—”

Annabelle stood up abruptly. “It’s not my place. I—David and I—shouldn’t be involved. Not in this. I know you’re confused, but you have to trust us now. Can you do that? Promise me you’ll tell your aunt what’s happening. We’d do it for you, but ….”

“You can’t,” I finished.

“It’s the only way. Promise me.”

“I will, but you need to promise me something, too.”

She looked wary but let me continue.

“If Karen won’t or can’t explain what is going on, will you help me? Will you tell me what you know, or what you think you know?”

Annabelle hesitated, but something in my expression must have affected her. “I don’t think it will come to that. But, yes, I will.”

Reassured that I would soon have some answers, I gave in to whatever sedative was currently coursing through my veins and drifted into blissful unconsciousness.

§

When I woke again, several hours later, it was a different face I saw looking down at me.

“Jess, sweetie? How are you?” Karen whispered.

“I don’t know.” I stretched tentatively, but everything still ached like hell.

Karen’s nose and eyes were red, and she was absent-mindedly shredding a Kleenex between her fingers. “What happened to you, sweetie? Can you remember anything about it? Your professor was here when I arrived, but he just said that you collapsed in the library. The doctors couldn’t tell me a thing. They’re still running all of your tests.”

I glanced toward the corridor, where Pierce and Annabelle had been waiting. It was now deserted. I was on my own and it was time for the truth.

“Karen, I’ll tell you what happened last night. I’ll tell you everything, but please, just … don’t interrupt me, okay? I want to get it all out before I lose my nerve.”

Karen nodded and continued to pulverize her tissue.

Taking a deep breath that felt like fire in my lungs I let loose the floodgates. I told Karen everything, from my many encounters with Evan to my run-ins with other spirits. I told her about my relationship with Pierce, and how he’d been helping me understand my abilities. Her face was absolutely inscrutable, but I didn’t let myself stop talking long enough to attempt to decode it.

The only time I thought she would stop me was when I told her about William and what had happened when I was trapped in the bathroom. Her hand grasped mine convulsively and her head started shaking back and forth, her mouth open in an “O” of perfect horror.

And, I realized suddenly, perfect understanding.

She started looking at me with a new intensity, her eyes taking a frantic inventory of every inch of me, looking for something she hadn’t noticed before. She took me by the shoulders and shook me slightly, staring deep into my eyes. She ignored my faint groan of protest, searching, trying to see through me, to see
into
me. She saw only me looking back at her, shocked, and so she released me with a moan of relief and listened to the rest of my story with a shaking hand pressed over her eyes.

When I had finished, I thought the silence was going to stretch beyond my ability to wait it out. Was she waiting for me to speak? Was she ever going to speak to me again? I had just opened my mouth, with little real idea of what would come out of it, when she finally spoke.

“This is my fault. All my fault,” she whispered.

“What? How can this be your fault?”

“I should have … maybe I could’ve done something to ….” She didn’t really seem to be talking to me at all. Abruptly, she was on her feet, digging through her bag and muttering unintelligibly.

“Karen, if you know something, you have to tell me.”

I watched as a dozen emotions flitted across her face in quick succession, and I tried to make sense of the battle going on behind her eyes. Finally, something clicked into place and her face smoothed out.“I can’t.”

My jaw dropped open. I didn’t realize until that moment that I’d been expecting her to deny it. “You can’t or you won’t?”

“I can’t. Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

I struggled into a sitting position, ignoring the tug of the tubes in my wrists. Karen’s careful expression faltered as she reached out a hand to push me back onto the pillow. I slapped it away impatiently. “So, let me get this straight, just so we’re clear here. You know something about what’s happening to me. In fact, I’m pretty sure you know everything about it.” I took her silence as confirmation. “And in spite of the fact that whatever just happened almost killed me, even though I’ve been convinced for months that, on some level, I’ve gone insane, you aren’t going to tell me what’s happening. Is that what you’re saying to me right now?”

Still Karen said nothing, though her face was twisted with something akin to agony. 

“So what’s it going to take, Karen? What kind of red flag or secret sign are you waiting for? Because I can’t take much more of this.”

“Jessica,” she begged, her voice a hoarse whisper. “I just can’t ....”

“What are the Durupinen?”

As though an electric current had shocked her from her perch, Karen jolted out of her seat and skittered away from me until her back was pressed to the wall. “What… Who told… I never….” she spluttered.

Her reaction was all the confirmation I needed. Annabelle and Pierce had been right in their suspicions, whatever they meant. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll find someone who will.”

“Who? Who have you been talking to?”

I had her spooked, and I had no idea why, but I kept my mouth shut and just waited.

“Jess, just listen to me, alright? You trust me, don’t you?”

“Actually, Karen, I’m not sure that I do.”

“Okay. Okay, you’re right. I guess I deserve that,” Karen said, and began pacing the room. I could practically hear her mind working. “Assumptions aside, then. If I asked you to trust me, just this one last time, would you do it?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not trusting you is going to get me answers.”

“Jessica, I promise that if you trust me just this once, you will get some answers.”

“When?”

“Soon. As soon as I’m possibly able.”

“I’m listening.”

Karen heaved a sigh of relief. “Good. Thank you. I need to get you checked out of here and home to Boston. Nothing they are doing for you here is actually going to help you. Once we get home, I will need a little bit of time to speak to some people. After I’ve done that, I’ll know exactly what I can tell you, and also what we are going to do from here.”

I considered for a moment. It sounded like she was hedging to a certain extent, but I could wait it out and see what came of it. I would take what I could get from the “people” she was going to contact, and then, if I wasn’t satisfied, I would go to Pierce and Annabelle. I would force them to talk, if necessary.

“Fine. Let’s get out of here.”

Chapter 16—Nighttime Visitors

Chapter 16—Nighttime Visitors

I
am not sure how Karen managed it
—maybe she threatened a lawsuit—but I was out of that hospital bed and into her SUV within twenty minutes. The nurse who helped me into the passenger seat looked like she was doing it against every fiber of good sense she possessed. Karen ignored her sniffs and general grunts of disapproval, and we were speeding east toward Boston just as the sun peeked, blushing diffidently, over the horizon. Noah stared at us as we walked in the door, his hair a too-dark haystack, his toothbrush suspended motionless, halfway to his mouth. I wondered, as I took in his bewildered expression, if Karen had even told him she was bringing me home. She insisted that I go straight to bed, and I was too exhausted to argue. I didn’t need to be present for that discussion.

I lay in bed fighting the fatigue. Just the walk up the stairs to my room had my legs trembling. I caught sight of myself in the full length mirror on the back of my door and nearly frightened myself to death. I was so pale, I could have been one of my own unwelcome visitors. Karen’s grim but resigned expression as she helped me into bed was proof positive that she knew exactly what had happened to me, and that my symptoms were nothing less than what was to be expected. I bit back my torrent of questions and concentrated instead on trying to stay awake long enough to eavesdrop on her phone conversations. Unfortunately, she seemed to be anticipating this maneuver. Instead of going across the hall, she descended the stairs and shut herself into Noah’s office. I barely had the energy to register my own disappointment. Whatever information I was going to get, it was going to have to wait until tomorrow. Or at least, that was what I thought as I let sleep carry me away again.

§

Damn it. Not again. Not here.

There it was, the increasingly familiar feeling that I was not alone in my darkened bedroom. My heart pounded a frantic tattoo against my ribcage and my breathing quickened, both ignoring the silent calming words my brain was trying to send my body, which still felt like it had been tossed off a cliff. I opened my eyes slowly, careful not to move any other part of my body. I was facing the wall of books against which my bed was wedged. There was, thank goodness, no face hovering between me and the rows of gilded spines.

I could sense movement, though, and eyes boring into my motionless back. Deciding I may as well get it over with, I struggled into a sitting position and turned around.

Two figures were silhouetted against the silver moonlight streaming through the open window. The curtains fluttered around them like silken wings. One figure, clearly female, was standing just in front of the window ledge, hands raised slightly from her sides, palms out. The other figure, crouched on the window seat, was diminutive enough to be that of a child.

I opened my mouth, but the upright figure spoke first.

“You see, Catriona? She’s awake, and she’s not even screaming,” her velvety smooth voice cooed.

“Well, that’s one for you, I suppose,” a bored voice answered. “Shall I pay up now, or…?”

“You can owe me, love. I won’t forget,” the tall figure replied. Then she turned toward me and added, “Hello, Jessica.” She had a very strong English accent.

I found my voice at last. “Excuse me, but who are you?” I was proud that it didn’t crack; I was doing a decent impression of composure.

The tall figure stepped into the middle of the room towards me, where the moonlight lit her features. She was slender and graceful, moving with an almost feline fluidity. Her skin was flawless and luminous, a beautiful shade of mocha. Her face was almost unnaturally beautiful, as though she had been airbrushed, with high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes, and full lips which were curved into a curious little half-smile. Her hair stood out in a kinky halo all around her head. She had every appearance of an Egyptian goddess, except for the anachronistic outfit; she was dressed in skintight designer jeans, fur-topped stiletto boots and a low-cut suede vest.

I gasped out loud at the sight of her. Her smile widened, as though she expected my awe. Not surprising; a woman so beautiful must get that all the time.

“My name is Lucida. This is Catriona,” the goddess said, gesturing offhandedly to the second figure behind her. “We’ve come to pay you a little visit.”

Catriona slunk off the window seat and stood beside Lucida. She was just as beautiful as her companion, but the polar opposite. Her skin, also with an unearthly glow, was purest ivory. Her hair flowed in shining golden waves down her back. She was nearly a foot shorter than Lucida, which gave her even more of the appearance of a porcelain doll, and her features were heartbreakingly perfect, from her rosebud mouth to her wide, extravagantly-lashed blue eyes. She looked like she’d walked off the cover of Vogue magazine in a devastating pair of black leather pants and a gold cashmere top that hung carelessly off one of her shoulders.

The biggest difference between them was the expressions on their faces. Catriona looked apathetic and slightly annoyed, while Lucida’s face was aglow with interest and excitement.

I swallowed convulsively. “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“Calm down, love, take a breath. Like I said, we’re just here to have a little chat,” Lucida said, smiling in what she evidently thought was a friendly way.

But I was too scared to calm down. “Look, I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t know why you all keep finding me, but I can’t help you. I don’t know what to do, and I’m sorry about that, but please just go away.”

“What do you mean, ‘you all’? Who else has….” Lucida began, but then Catriona put a hand on her arm.

“She thinks we’re a Visitation,” Catriona said, her tone indicating that it should have been obvious.

Lucida’s expression cleared immediately as she shook her head and laughed a short, harsh note. “Of course she does. Not surprised, all things considered.”

“Aren’t … aren’t you both dead?” I asked.

“No, Jessica. We are very much alive,” Catriona said.

I considered this possibility. They both looked totally solid. Then again, so had Evan. He hadn’t known he was dead, and so it was conceivable these visitors were in the same frame of mind, though I doubted it. It was obvious from their comments that they were aware, on some level, of what had been happening to me. I decided to take them at their word and accept that two unknown, living women were standing in my bedroom in the dark. If they thought this was going to calm me down, they were quite wrong.

“How did you get in here?” I demanded.

Lucida gestured lazily behind her. “Through your window. I suppose these weren’t the smartest shoes for scaling the side of a building, I’ll admit it. Pleasant surprise, to find it unlocked, though. Thanks for that.”

The night breeze lifted Lucida’s cloud of hair around her, and I realized that indeed, the window hadn’t been open when I’d gone to sleep.

“Okay, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t scream at the top of my lungs and call the police,” I said, offput by Lucida’s strange composure. It was as though entering strangers’ windows by moonlight was a regular occupation for her.