Page 24

I know exactly what Jax will say, as usual, without having to have the conversation: you can wait to follow the message from the murderous ghost until tomorrow morning, when it’s daylight. But Mave and Luke say no such thing, of course; they swing by campus to pick me up. Jax will be irritated when I tell him about it, if I tell him .

The three of us head out to Holleyside Drive, which came up on the list when we brainstorming; there’s a 1219 Holleyside Drive, so this seems like our first solid lead .

On the way, Mave fills me in. It’s a scenic route at the edge of town, and there is, according to Google maps, a run-down looking house across from a cemetery there. Curious, I ask, “So do you ever think about waiting til morning to hunt down the scary poltergeists ?”

“They don’t have night vision,” Luke says impatiently, “so I don’t see how that would help us. Better not to be seen by civilians .”

I want to ask his definition of civilian , since he seems to include me despite the fact I am psychic and he is currently not, but I’m not getting into it with him. I am going to be nice to the broken man, damn it .

“How do you think a poltergeist knows to fill in the gaps of our knowledge?” I ask. “Do you think it’s… following us?” A shiver runs down my spine. “ Following me ?”

“Hopefully it doesn’t mind non-natural blondes .”

“She doesn’t have to be the bait if we stop this poltergeist now,” Mave says mildly .

“Ehh, she’s bait the whole way through,” Luke says. “I doubt the geist put up that freakish little show in the attic for me .”

“Speaking of,” I ask, “Have you seen any of the brothers ?”

“I’ve been staying away from campus while I can. Soon enough I’ll have to go near that stupid house again, talk to those meatheads .”

When I don’t respond, Luke glances in the rearview mirror at me. He must expect me to imply he’s a meathead as well. I meet his eyes in the mirror, and we share one long look before he glances back at the road. That’s probably for the best .

“I don’t like the idea of a ghost following us,” he says. “I don’t know. I’ve always thought that for the people they appeared to, they always appeared. Just like a real person can’t turn invisible or not. If they’re in the room, they’re in the room .”

“But there’s always room to be surprised by the supernatural,” Mave says. “ Unfortunately .”

“Yeah, well, not a lot of people are motivated to do this, and the ones who are tend to be action types. Not sit-down-and-stew-about-it academics.” Luke makes a show of thinking about it briefly. “Look, there might be an important job for you, college girl .”

“Maybe,” I say back, my tone not even sharpening at his insult. That would be a good idea. The supernatural needs more study; the ancient lore is one thing, but it really could stand to be digitized and shared more efficiently. “You guys seem like you could use the help, that’s for sure .”

“You going to volunteer to be the intern ?”

“ Ha , no .”

“We’re not inviting you to come with us when we go,” Luke says. “This is a one-time thing. One case and then you go back to your nice life, all philosophy papers and Smirnoff Ice and that boy with the baggy jeans .”

“I’m not even taking Philosophy,” I say. Luke keeps telling me how I can’t go with them, as if I want to go; I’m going to ignore him. It seems kindest for both of us .

“You will,” Luke says .

“So I have a question that seems especially pressing right now,” I ask. “You pulled out a knife with that poltergeist in the attic . Why ?”

“The moment when they are tangible, they’re also vulnerable,” Luke says. “Blessed blade. Usually does the job to kill a geist that tries to get physical .”

“ Blessed ?”

He nods, as if that needs no more explanation .

“So what’s the right religion?” I prod .

“The more we know, the more questions we have,” Mave tells me .

“That’s not much of an answer .”

“You went to the afterlife and came back, didn’t you?” Mave asks. “That’s what the Hunters say about you. The girl who came back .”

“People talk about me?” I ask skeptically .

Luke whistles. “Well, you’ve successfully distracted her now .”

He loves to imply I’m self-involved. It prickles even more because maybe it’s true right now: I’m trying to understand who the hell I am, and who I was in the Far. It’s not cute, I’m sure. But maybe I deserve a pass on that particular character flaw .

“Mostly good things, Ash,” Mave says kindly .

“Nora’s telling people about me?” The thought makes me feel betrayed .

“I wouldn’t blame Nora. There are some secrets that can’t be hidden,” Mave says, “especially from the Council .”

Still, I feel foolish now, betrayed by her and by my instincts, and it makes me restless. Maybe I shouldn’t chat with Nora anymore. She had seemed like my best chance at understanding my gift. Ellis and the guys will help me all they can, but my gifts aren’t theirs .

Luke’s knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel. Is it because we’re talking about Nora, or the Council, or is just because I irritate him that much? I can’t quite reconcile the way he talks to me sometimes with the way he looks at me .

I lean forward and clap his shoulder. “You don’t have to choke the steering wheel to death. You already drive it like you stole it; you don’t need to add murder to your list of crimes .”

Luke shoots me a look that says I’ve failed to lighten the mood .

Mave clears his throat. We’re all saved from further conversation as Luke curses and swerves off the road, then loops a U-turn across the narrow country road. He pulls past a driveway with a decapitated mailbox; the silver box sits on the ground alongside the post, and both are choked by yellow weeds. “Almost missed it .”

There’s a chunk-chunk sound of gravel under the wheels as Luke pulls off the road and parks. “Let’s see who’s home .”

I can’t even see the house from here, just the tangle of woods and brush growing up around it. I trek behind the guys as we begin our foray into the woods, but Mave stops, holding up a branch for me. Mave asks, “I’d feel better if you weren’t the one bringing up the rear. Just in case .”

“I’m fine,” I promise him in a whisper. “You have no idea .”

Luke has paused up ahead, his big frame highlighted by the moonlight falling through the branches above, a faint sheen on his leather jacket. Luke sighs, and then Mave catches his eye. Grimly, Luke moves swiftly and silently through the woods back to my side. He ushers me ahead of him with a flamboyant gesture .

I shake my head. It’s nice that they want to be gallant, but—despite my current lack of cardio fitness—I’m just as dangerous as they are. It’s annoying .

But this is not the time and place for that conversation, so I head off, taking the lead. Mave tries to outpace my stride, to take the lead, but I’m quick as well as silent. I may not be a strong as I used to be, but I remember how to move like a hunter .

As the woods narrow, he reluctantly falls a step behind me. His tall frame looms behind me, protective as he can be as he follows .

I stop at the edge of the clearing. In front of us is a derelict house. Boards cover some of the windows. There’s no vehicle parked on the cracked cement driveway, but at the end of the driveway is a detached garage. The windows in the garage door have all been broken. A breeze ruffles my hair, and I could swear it comes from the house itself. But maybe that’s my imagination .

Maybe .

Mave is so close behind me that he stops himself with a hand on my shoulder, his body pressing against mine briefly before he steps quickly to one side. He inclines his head respectfully, as if to apologize for touching me without permission. Even when his hand has left my shoulder, I’m still processing him. His grip was warm and confident, and he smells nice, like cloves and cinnamon and evergreen. His smell is intoxicating and unlike any normal human guy, even one who smells good, like Luke—who I swear smells like woodsy cologne and bad choices .

Luke lopes ahead to look into the broken window of the one-car garage. A young tree, not strong enough to bring down the roof, leans against the garage, broken at its base by a storm. Luke turns back and nods at us that it’s safe .

“Oh yay, another creepy haunted house, and a poltergeist who wants us here,” Luke says. His rough, masculine voice saying oh yay almost makes me want to smile, despite the tension saturating the air around us .

Mave looks to me. “Let’s go explore the house, shall we ?”

For other, normal people, these two thoughts might not fit together seamlessly .

The inside of the house is clean and bare, except for a few rotten leaves that have made their way through the broken windows. We make our way through the house quickly once, checking dark, empty rooms, and then return to the living room when we know we’re alone .

“The ghost has some kind of connection here.” Luke looks thoughtfully at the dusty yellow curtain, which still hangs over the window in the front door, even though the window has been nailed over with plywood. He gathers the curtain in one hand and yanks it suddenly off the rod, which hits the floor with a thud. “If this was the poltergeist’s house, wouldn’t this be enough his object to summon him? Worth a shot ?”

“Yes,” Mave agrees. “Worth a shot. Pretty much anything is at this point.” He stomps the floor, and the sudden racket startles me. He doesn’t seem to notice as I press my hand over my heart, willing it to slow down before I have a heart attack, as he makes his way across the floor, kicking his heel hard into the ground .

“Feeling for a subfloor,” Luke explains. Great, he noticed my racing heart. That should really help with my bid for respect. “Mave says he can tell. I’m not convinced .”

“I believe it’s just concrete slab below us,” Mave says. “No hidden room .”

“You do make a good point, though,” Luke says. “Who wants to flip for the crawl space ?”

“I’m not going down there,” I say .

“We wouldn’t make a civilian go down in the crawl space,” Luke assures me, which is comforting and a dig all at once .

I can live with the dig. I don’t want to wiggle through the crawl space of a normal house. Forget tight spaces potentially filled with corpses and poltergeists .

“Throw on three. Don’t cheat this time,” Luke warns Mave .

“I never cheat. You’re just predictable.” Mave says .

The two of them thump their fists into their open palms at they count. They’re playing rock-paper-scissors. This seems professional .

“Ah, fuck you,” Luke says, when Mave throws rock to his scissors .

“I always win,” Mave tells me as we head for the floor .

“It’s like he’s got magic in his veins or something,” Luke says .

A few minutes later, I stand anxiously at the crawl space door, a miniature white barn door swung open to reveal a gaping dark hole and steep descending stairs. I might not be the one going down there, but there’s a creeping feeling up my spine. I don’t like this one bit, not even for Luke .

“What do you think you’re going to find in the crawl space?” I ask .

Luke shrugs. “Just being thorough. Being a hunter means getting dirty, dollface .”

But he doesn’t look happy about it, either. He takes a step onto the top stair, ducking his head, and then stops. He shrugs out of his leather jacket and hands it to me. “Dry-cleaning leather is expensive .”

Then he turns the beam of his flashlight down into the crawl space, pulls a face, and descends the steep concrete steps. He crawls forward onto his hands and knees into the darkness, and I lose sight of him as he moves beneath the house .

A minute goes by, silently .

Then he screams. A brief, curdled, tiny scream. I gasp and take a step back as my adrenaline spikes. Something deep in me says run .

I can’t leave Luke there. I jump forward, ready to run—to run down the steps. The opposite of the way I want to go .

Mave grabs my coat sleeve, pulling me to a stop. His face is knowing .

Sure enough, Luke sticks his head out of the crawl space, grinning. He brushes his hair forward with his hand briskly as he climbs the rest of the way up the stairs, then shakes spider webs off his fingers .

“You know, she was ready to come in after you that time,” Mave says drily, “but I doubt she’ll feel that way again .”

Luke half-shrugs. “Nothing down there but a whole lot of spiders .”

“I hope you got bitten,” I tell him .

Well, so much for being nice to him. He’s still grinning, anyway. I press my palm over my chest, which aches from the rapid flight of adrenaline. Ugh. I hate him .

I walk away towards the garage. “ Next up .”

Behind me, I hear Luke shut the crawl space door with a creak, and then a thud as he hip-checks the warped door into the frame. I reach the corner of the garage and hesitate. The white garage door has a broken metal handle, swinging free with only one side connected. I don’t like the idea of prying my fingers between the cracked cement and the wooden lip of the door to raise it. There’s a layer of filth and cobwebs running along the doorway .

“I’ll get that for you, princess,” Luke says, coming alongside me. He drops to one knee and sticks his hands beneath the door, then staggers to his feet as he pushes it up. It creaks and groans. Once it gets halfway up, the rails catch. Luke pushes it easily above his head, and the movement pulls his shirt up, revealing a line of chiseled abs and the faintest brown tuft of a happy trail above his leather belt. When the door is up on its tracks, he tests to make sure it won’t rebound on us before he lets go, brushing the filth off his hands .

Mave steps between us into the empty garage. There are stains on the cement floor. Maybe just oil and solvents .

He walks slowly across the garage. “Room’s the same depth and width as it looks on the outside. Nothing to see here, either .”

Luke says, “If I weren’t already set on dispatching this asshole geist to the afterlife, this wild goose chase would make me that way .”

“Yeah. It’s a tragedy you’re missing out on that evening of porn.” I back out of the garage, then stand in the driveway looking at the acreage around us. I can’t see another house from here, although I know we passed some on the way down Holleyside. I wonder if you could even hear someone scream from the next house over .

“What are we missing?” Mave asks, joining me. “Why would the ghost send us here ?”

Eerie screeching fills the air. The garage door rocks on its rails .

“Trap,” Luke answers his question. Mave rushes forward to catch the door, so it won’t fall on Luke. But Luke is already sliding, ducking under the door, and he’s rolling to his feet in the gravel before the door slams into the ground .

Luke’s knife is in his right hand. He rests his left on my shoulder, as if to push me ahead of him. “Stay with me .”

Because I’m the bait? Or because when he isn’t being an asshole, terrifying me himself, he wants to make sure I’m okay? Could go either way .

“All right,” I say. “You got our attention. You must want something, or you wouldn’t still be here… you wouldn’t be haunting the frat or playing games with us. So tell me what you want .”

There’s no sound except for the sound of the wind fluttering the leaves all around the house .

Mave slings his backpack off his shoulders. “At least we know it’s here with us. Let’s try to force communications, shall we ?”

“Oil,” I ask, holding out my hand. He digs through his backpack and hands me a small plastic bottle of yellow oil. The two oils swirl together; it’s a combination of rose oil and then a carrier of cheaper apricot oil. I pour them into a pool in my hand. I hate the slick stuff coating my palm and dripping down the sides of my hands, but whatever it takes. “I pour out oil to bless you, friend. Speak to me, tell me of your end .”

In the woods near us, one tree slams down into another, with a thud that reminds me of a car accident. There’s a long, unnerving rattle of leaves as the impact ripples through the trees around it .

Mave takes off towards the sound, and I cap the bottle quickly as Luke pushes me towards the woods. I press the bottle against my sweatshirt because otherwise the slick oil will make me drop it, and run with Luke and Mave for the woods .

Once we tromp into the woods behind the house, it’s eerily silent again; the trees shade out even what little moonlight there is tonight, and the darkness feels complete. One young tree rests in the bow of another, just beyond the property break. Luke’s hand drops away as he shuffles his feet through the leaves, kicking them away, looking for something here that will give us a hint about why this place is important. Meanwhile, Mave stands watch, his eyes constantly tracking through the darkness around us. I feel awkward, like I really am the useless civilian in contrast to their practiced team. I join Luke in shuffling through the leaves .

The toe of my sneaker suddenly skates free, finding not uneven ground but slick metal. I bend to sweep away the wet leaves, and uncover metal. “Guys. I have something .”

Mave stands watch as Luke joins me in digging with our hands, clearing away fistfuls of soggy leaves. We expose a thick metal door, as wide as my arms outstretched .

Luke’s eyes flicker up to mine. “It’s a well cover. Get back .”

He squats to push it aside, groaning beneath his breath as he heaves it away. There’s a square of wood beneath; it’s a shallow coffin, not a well. There’s no body. Bits of leaf and debris and scraps of cloth and bandage cover the brown wooden bottom .

“Is this what I think it is?” I ask, hoping there could be some unknown, innocent purpose for something like this, that looks so much like a cage and a grave .

“Maybe he wanted to visit them,” Mave says. “And then he moved their bodies somewhere else, perhaps in preparation for the next girl .”

“How could a poltergeist move a girl all the way out here ?”

“Maybe he only did it when he was alive,” Mave says. “Or maybe he’s an exceptionally powerful poltergeist .”

Exceptionally powerful poltergeist is actually my least favorite phrase in the entire English language .

“You take watch,” Mave tells Luke, then kneels at the edge of the coffin. The wood is weathered and aged, splotched and stained by leaking water or worse. He runs his hand over the interior of the coffin, feeling through the debris for something more. He patiently removes each handful of leaves, rubbing them between his hands as the grit and crumbling leaves falls away, to make sure there’s nothing else within the trash. I hesitate for a second, wanting to vomit at the thought of touching this filth where a girl’s corpse probably once rested .

Then I kneel across from him and rake my hands through the leaves as well. It makes my throat thicken, but we have work to do. I want to get out of these cursed woods before our poltergeist tries another trap, another game. And most of all, I want to protect the next girl from the dangers of November .

“Do you think there are more of these?” Luke asks. “A coffin for each girl ?”

“I hope not,” I say. “This one is more than enough for me .”

“Look at this.” Mave holds up a lighter. It’s a cheap orange plastic Bic, nothing interesting .

“Let’s try it,” Luke says. “We can take it back to the clearing, see if we can use it to bind our ghost and move him on .”

Suddenly the wind blows through the woods hard. The branches of the trees around us lift in the upgust. Dirt and grit from the coffin blow up into my face, and I turn away, covering my eyes with my hands .

“Get down,” Luke tells me, dropping down above me. His muscular body suddenly presses me into the earth so that I can barely draw a breath from my chest. His big arm shelters my head from any falling debris as the trees rattle above us, raining down small branches .

I breathe in not just the musty scent on his clothes from our adventure tonight but also a woodsy masculine musk, the clean underlying scent of his soap. The wind gasps above us, shaking the trees. A big branch falls near us, a deadly thud, and Luke ducks his face into my neck, pushing even more of his body over mine, sheltering me with his body. His hard muscles are warm against the curve of my back and ass. I want to ask him what the hell he’s doing, but our voices would be lost to the screaming of the wind. Part of me thinks it would be nice to be close to Luke like this, with his arm around my waist and his mouth pressed against my shoulder, without the storm and the danger .

As soon as the desperate shaking of the trees and the roar of the wind dies, Luke scrambles back off me, up to his feet. I jump up too, although I’m all but blinded. As I blink my eyes open, a narrow slit against the rush of wind, I glimpse the exposed wood of the coffin. The dirt’s all blown away .

“Time to get out of here,” Mave says. “Run now, bind later .”

“Come on,” Luke says impatiently, grabbing my wrist. But there’s a flash of something, some metal in the corner where the wooden edges of the box join .

I yank away from him .

“Got to get this.” I drop to my knees again, reaching for the metal. Mave sees it too, and bends to grab it for me, but my hands reach it first. I slip my fingers around small, cool metal beads only to find the loop of metal in my hand won’t budge; it’s stuck into the rough metal edges where the box joints meet .

I scramble into the box on my knees, yanking at it furiously. The wind is still a wild rushing that tears at my clothes and my nerves. I have to get out of here, but not without that .

The wind suddenly drops. The night is eerily silent again .

The necklace comes free in my hands. I stumble back, bumping my back painfully against the sharp wooden edge of the box. My elbows sink into the soft muck surrounding the coffin .

“Out of there,” Luke says, his voice as urgent as I feel. With his free hand, he grabs my wrist and tows me out. He’s not entirely helpful as my feet kick across the wet earth. But then I’m standing on my own two feet, out of the coffin. The three of us race through the woods, back to the clearing, and then out to the road .

I breathe a sigh of relief when we reach the paved country road, which is sheltered by swaying pines, lit by the narrow sliver of moon above. Just this bit of civilization makes me feel safer .

I feel safest of all once I clamber into the back seat, and Luke turns on the car and Mave hits the locks–for whatever good that will do–and we pull away out on the road before I can even get my seatbelt buckled. The necklace is still clutched tight in my palm .

For a few long seconds, the eerie silence follows us in the car. Luke presses down on the accelerator, getting us out of there, putting distance between the farmhouse and us. The poltergeist might follow us, but for now, we’re free .

Then Luke says, “He knows you now .”

“Yeah. Great idea, dying my hair. I’m so glad that now I’m the best possible bait.” My voice comes out hard, but I’m not sure how convincing it really is .

“Well, we’ll bind him, and it’ll be over.” Luke rubs his hand across his face. “There’s a state park we can head to. We can go in deep and find someplace deserted. I just don’t want to be at that house anymore .”

“We’re all dead on our feet,” Mave says, which is unfortunate choice of wording. “As much as I want this over with, I don’t think we’re up to binding a poltergeist until we’ve gotten some rest .”

Binding and exorcising a poltergeist can go very, very wrong .

“Who’s going to get any rest tonight anyway?” Luke asks. “Let’s finish this .”

“There’s probably a reason those girls all died on the same night. An anniversary, a ritual. There’s something there.” Mave glances back at me, clearly gauging my reaction with those beautiful silver eyes and trying to comfort me. “I doubt the geist is going to go off script. It takes so much energy anyway for them to act on the world. It won’t be up for much more trouble anytime soon .”

“Probably,” I say flatly. “You’re probably right .”

Luke says, “I don’t want you to be alone, Ash. Not until we’re sure we’ve gotten this ghost burned .”

“I can take care of myself,” I promise him .

“I don’t doubt it,” he says. “But everyone needs someone to watch their back .”

That I don’t doubt it, said in his rare, serious tone, warms my chest .

“Then how come you left Mave behind when you decided to impersonate a frat boy?” I ask lightly .

“I had you to watch my back then,” he says .

“The civilian?” I ask tartly, but the tartness just hides the embarrassing glow in my chest. Luke gives compliments? Amazing .

“ Half- civilian,” he corrects. “And not half-idiot. Unlike me .”

“You’re not all bad,” I tell him. I can’t help smiling as I turn my gaze out the window, hoping he doesn’t see the smile suddenly playing across my lips .

There’s always a new mystery in my life, and the current one is: what the hell is wrong with me when it comes to Luke Chamberlain ?