Tortured Souls (The Orion Circle) (13 page)

The exterior is gorgeous in vibrant shades of blue apparent even in the dim light of the imitation gas lanterns lining the walkway. Every window on the second floor is made of exquisite stained glass in multiple floral patterns. I wish it was still daylight so I could see the designs better. Two massive willow trees flank the long walkway in the front yard. The trees appear very old, must have survived the fire somehow.

A colorful wooden sign hangs near the street:
King’s Ransom Inn – A Haunted Good Time
. As we wander up the slate path, I open the part of my mind that can sense the dead. This area is alive with residual energy from lives long gone. The wind blows, rustling the leaves of the willow, and I can hear the laughter of long forgotten children as they run and play around the tree trunks. Several spectral forms move down the sidewalk in front of the manor, their energy locked in a never-ending repeat of a previous moment in history.

“There’s lots of residual energy,” Logan whispers. “Intriguing really. I wonder if it’s because everything still appears as it did back in the 1800s.”

“Interesting hypothesis,” I murmur, watching two ghost horses pull a phantom carriage down the street. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. You think we’re looking at a residual haunting here?”

“No,” Logan says, his gaze meeting mine. “The team would have picked up something if it was residual energy. My guess is that whatever energy was here faded with the fire and the reconstruction.”

“Makes sense.”

For some reason, I feel the need to whisper. As we near the wrap-around front porch, the door flies opens and a couple appears to greet us. The woman is short and thin with shoulder-length brown hair flipped up at the ends. She’s wearing baggy, dark blue jeans and an embroidered Halloween sweater featuring bats, ghosts, and pumpkins.

Mr. Anders looks every bit the literature professor described in the brief dossier we received. He’s even wearing a tweed jacket with suede patches on the elbows. His glasses are slightly askew on his thin face as if he’s too immersed in his thoughts to notice. Really all he needs is a pipe to complete the stereotypical picture of the absent-minded professor.

“You must be Logan and Kacie,” Mrs. Anders chirps as she rushes down the three porch steps. “Welcome, welcome. We’re both so glad you could make it.”

She attempts to usher us forward, and my gaze flies to meet Logan’s. Is this behavior of hers genuine? I’ve always been rather bad at reading people—too wrapped up in ignoring the spirit world to waste my energy. He shrugs his shoulder at my confused expression. Her behavior seems odd to him as well.

Mr. Anders is silent as he watches his wife flit around us cooing about how adorable we are. When she tries to push us inside Logan finally speaks up. He has to throw his hand out to catch the doorjamb to keep from being shoved inside. This goes way beyond simple courtesy. Why does she want us in there so badly?

“Mrs. Anders, Kacie and I haven’t finished our walk out here,” he says with a brilliant smile.

My heart flutters a bit at the roguish expression on his face, and I’m sure many girls have fallen prey to that look. Yet all I see in Mrs. Anders’ face is hard eyes and a scary, toothy grin. Now I know what a smiling crocodile looks like…

“We need a while to soak up the information around the outside of the inn. We’ll come inside when we’re finished,” Logan adds when she continues to glare at him.

“Oh, silly me,” she says, pushing her husband back inside.

Her attitude is even stranger now. It’s as if no longer being in control has shaken her.

“We’ll be waiting inside. Hurry up now,” she says, sounding a bit panicked. “Don’t want to keep the spirits waiting.” The strange woman rushes back through the door, slamming it shut hard enough to rattle my teeth.

“This is just creepy,” Logan whispers as a shudder wracks his body. “She’s watching us through the window, hiding behind the curtain no less.”

“Maybe curiosity?” I ask, though frankly I doubt that’s the case.

“Something strange is going on here,” he murmurs. We walk under one of the massive willow trees, the hanging boughs hiding us from view. “I think we need to get Rebecca out here.” He pulls out his phone. “Call Rebecca,” he orders the phone. His thumb caresses the back of my hand while he waits for her to answer. “Hey, I think Kacie and I are out of our element here.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders pulling me close enough that I can hear Rebecca. “Mrs. Anders is acting very strange, and I mean creepy with a capital C.”

“Well she is overly excited about the whole ghost thing,” Rebecca answers. “Are you sure you’re not just reading something into it that isn’t there?”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Logan admits. “I guess we could just be overreacting, but she’s acting crazy enough that I have a strong urge to jump in the car and bail.”

“Saccharin,” I whisper. “It was all fake, an act. She desperately wanted us inside. I mean Logan had to grab the door frame to keep her from pushing him inside.”

“Did you catch that?” Logan asks Rebecca.

“Yeah,” she replies. “Look I’m free tonight—the investigation I had planned fell through. I was planning to stop by anyway, set up the equipment again. I’ll pick up Carl and be there in about forty-five minutes. Hold out until then.”

She hangs up without waiting for a response. Logan shoves the phone into his pocket and glances at me from the corner of his eye.

“I have an idea,” I murmur as I take his hand and pull him back toward the front door. “Play along.”

He nods once. We stroll up the stairs to the front porch with slow steps. The door opens and Mrs. Anders appears before we reach the final step. Her brown eyes are wide and glistening in excitement. She almost appears rabid.

“We need to walk around the area,” I blurt out before she can open her mouth. “Queen Anne’s District is so rich in history. It will help us understand the inn and the spirits within. It should only take about an hour or so.”

“Oh, of course, dears,” Mrs. Anders says, crinkling her nose in what appears to be confusion. “No rush, we’ll be here,” she adds in her strange syrupy voice before closing the door.

Logan pulls me down the walkway toward the car at a brisk jog.

“Did you see that?” he asks as we reach the car. “The odd glint in her eyes? Something weird is going on here.” He leans against the Mustang and crosses his arms over his chest. “What should we do? There’s no way I’m stepping foot in there with that crazy woman ‘til Rebecca and Carl get here.”

“Let’s do what I told her we’re going to do,” I suggest, hoping to ease his worried mind. “Maybe we can get some information based on the residual energies.”

Nodding he takes my hand and we stroll down the sidewalk admiring the stately manors lining the street. As we turn the corner, I’m surprised to see another bed and breakfast. I guess this is a popular tourist area. It’s rather close to downtown and the ambience is old elegance. Unlike our neighborhood there are no Halloween decorations gracing the lush lawns or hanging from the ancient trees. I wonder if they are frowned on in this area, or perhaps there are no children to revel in the holiday.

“I’m getting a whole lot of nothing,” Logan murmurs. He wraps his arm around my back. “Everything seems very normal for an area this old. If I didn’t open my senses, I wouldn’t even notice anything at all.”

“Yeah, I agree. We should head back and concentrate on the inn itself,” I murmur, watching a ghost couple pass us in Victorian era clothing.

A gust of wind blows by, and Logan pulls me closer to his body. My face flushes a bit as I wrap my arm around his waist beneath his leather jacket. Even with the ghosts and a creepy innkeeper, I think this is the best night of my life.

We stroll down the street watching the residual activity all around us. They flicker and flash in silver ghost-like images. These aren’t ghosts, but echoes of prior energy somehow stored in the fabric of the universe. I’m enjoying our walk so much that I release a heavy sigh when we round the corner to return to the inn. It looms before us, looking much eerier than it did when we first arrived.

Logan leads me to the largest of the two willow trees in front of the inn. We sit underneath, hidden from view by the dense foliage. Placing his arm around my shoulders, he pulls me into his side. The long branches block out the chilly breeze leaving our haven quite comfortable.

Now that I’ve closed my senses to the ambient residual energy, all I feel is the heat from Logan’s body cuddled up against mine. My heart races as I lean up burying my nose into his neck before lightly kissing the soft skin above his tee shirt. His tiny sigh makes me bold, and I trail kisses up along the exposed column of his neck. When I reach his jawline he pulls me up onto his lap, his lips descending on mine in a fiery kiss.

His hands run up my back under my jacket, massaging and caressing, and I shrug it off to give him easier access. The warmth from his hands seeps through the thin material of my turtleneck, sending tiny shivers racing through my body from his light touch. His arms tighten around me, pressing me against his chest as he tips his head to deepen the kiss.

“Um, thought you’d like to know we’re here,” a female voice says from the other side of the willow branches. “Carl has the thermal imager trained on you right now, just saying…”

Logan groans and pulls away from me. He gently removes me from his lap so he can stand. I take his outstretched hand and allow him to pull me to my feet before retrieving my jacket from the ground where I had tossed it. After slipping it back on, I glance at him from under my eyelashes to see his golden eyes watching my every move like a predator. He leans in, giving me a tender kiss on the corner of my mouth.

“Are you coming out or do I have to send Carl in?” Rebecca asks as she and Carl snicker.

“No way in hell I’m going in there,” Carl says in an indignant whine. “Might scar me for life.”

Logan parts the hanging boughs of the willow, leading me out with his hand on my lower back. I desperately try to keep the flush I feel on my neck from spreading to my face as Logan walks up to Carl and snatches the strange looking device from his hands.

“My baby!” Carl wails. “Give her back!”

“It’s not a her, you moron. It’s just an it,” Rebecca snaps at the lanky boy.

When he lunges at Logan to retrieve his treasure, she slaps a hand to his chest.

“Are you baiting Logan on purpose? Perhaps you woke up this morning thinking, ‘I wonder what I can do today to get beaten to a bloody pulp?’ Of all the idiotic…” Rebecca comments with an evil smirk.

Carl buries his fingers in his mousey brown hair, and for a moment I think he might pull some out in his obvious distress. He shakes his head moaning.

“I didn’t do anything!” Carl says, reaching for the device again.

“Using this to spy on me with my girlfriend is kinda sick, Carl,” Logan says with a cold stare. “The Circle did not spend several thousand dollars on this equipment for you to use it in such a way.”

“Sorry,” Carl squeaks while staring at his feet. “I didn’t mean any harm.”

He wipes his hands down his jeans in a nervous manner. Logan walks over and claps him on the back.

“It’s alright, Carl, I’m not really mad. I don’t think Kacie is either,” he says glancing at me.

Carl looks at me with forlorn eyes, and I smile and shake my head. Logan just called me his girlfriend! I don’t think I could be mad at anyone right now.

Carl’s shoulders drop as he breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Thanks, Kacie.”

“We have a job here and right now we have an audience,” Rebecca says, tipping her head toward the inn. She pushes her glasses back up her nose while staring at the front window. “I see what you mean about weird now. She’s been watching the whole time. Probably wondering what the two of you were doing hidden under the tree.”

“Why do you think we were hiding? She creeps me out,” Logan says with a shudder.

“Surely not to make out with your new girlfriend or anything like that,” Rebecca says waving her hand in the air. “You were just having a meaningful conversation about the assignment with your tongue down her throat.”

My eyes meet Rebecca’s cat-like greenish gaze and she grins at me. The shock and horror I felt at her statement disappears with her smile. I like this sarcastic side of her. It’s quite amusing, even if I am the target.

“Hmm, perhaps it would be more apt to call it meditating,” I reply laughing. “It’s important to clear the mind of all stressors before attempting a walkthrough such as this.”

Logan grabs me around the waist, pulling me up against his body. “Mmm, I think I need to meditate a bit more then,” he purrs in my ear while I struggle playfully in his arms. His breath is warm against my neck as he kisses just under my ear. “Unfortunately, that will have to wait until later. We have a job to do.”

He doesn’t sound the least bit happy about our current job, but he takes my hand and strides to the front porch. On cue the door opens before we even reach the top of the steps. Mrs. Anders appears with her scary crocodile smile. The smile combined with bright red lipstick makes her appear clownish. A tremor courses through my body. I hate clowns. Rebecca flinches beside me. Her head tips to the side as she regards our host through narrowed eyes.

“Oh, you brought more investigators,” Mrs. Anders chirps, though I’m not sure if she’s actually as happy about it as she sounds, given her scowl. “Rebecca and Carl, right?” Her lips turn down into a deep frown.

No she’s definitely not happy to see them.

“Yes, Mrs. Anders. It’s good to see you again,” Rebecca says in a fake cheerful voice. “Carl and I are here to tape everything and to assist Logan and Kacie with their walkthrough.”

Mrs. Anders steps aside and motions for us to enter. As we cross the threshold I’m somewhat surprised by the warm, inviting atmosphere. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t something out of a home decorating magazine. The foyer is bright and welcoming with a gorgeous chandelier casting light onto the many paintings decorating the walls on both sides. I turn my gaze from the pictures knowing they can influence what I sense in the house.