Coldhearted (9781311888433) Page 21

  “What’re you doing?” she asked, confused and shivering, holding the blanket around her.

  She noticed that Tristan was fading in and out, but he didn’t seem to notice, never taking his lapis lazuli eyes off her.

  “See if we can touch,” he suggested.

  “No way,” she refused.

  “Edie,” he warned, growling. Her fear skyrocketed. “Don’t make me angry.” His voice was soft but no less menacing.

  He’d been fading in and out, but now he came through on a strong signal. He was getting stronger. And I’m to blame. Or rather, her fear; the fear that he’d induced. Before, when he’d been in and out of focus, she hadn’t been afraid because as much as she hated to admit it, being in his company wasn’t that bad. He was handsome, charming, and witty—when he wasn’t threatening someone’s life.

  Edie shoved her fear deep, deep inside and actually gave Tristan a warm smile, as she lifted up her hand to meet his. She didn’t want to do it, but if she went along, then hopefully he’d disappear.

  She shivered when his hand went through hers, trying to clasp and interlace their fingers. He couldn’t maintain a grip, despite his concentrated attempts to do so. She was cold and in pain from this experiment. Shocks of ice traveled at super speeds along the veins of her hand, and she was afraid it would freeze solid. To save herself, she jerked her hand back and warmed it with her other.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked, genuinely concerned, lowering his hand.

  Edie tried to feel only pain and not fear. She wanted him off her bed and out of her life, as soon as possible.

  “No,” she lied. “The cold was just a shock to my system.” She forced a smile. “Remember? Me and cold don’t mix.”

  He was starting to fade in and out again.

  Almost there, Edie, almost there.

  “I’m sorry,” Tristan said. Again, he sounded genuine. Now she wondered if Tristan Lockhart had a split personality. “I wanted to see how far I’ve come.” He shook his head and stood up. “I still have a lot of work to do.”

  Fear and pain were replaced with curiosity and concern. What work? How far did he want to go? And what did that mean for her, for her friends, for Grimsby?

  She watched as Tristan began to fade, and then he disappeared. She turned toward the mirror. He wasn’t there, either.

  “Tristan?” she called out, hoping that he was gone for good.

  “I’m here, Edie,” his cool voice said in her ear.

  Her shoulders slumped. Well, better luck next time.

  “I’m getting close, Edie, very close,” he continued. “Soon.” It was a promise. “Soon I’ll be more than just a phantom in the guise of who I once was. Soon I’ll be as real as you are, and I’ll want much more than to simply hold your hand.”

  She was shivering and pulled the covers up and over her, hiding in the dark. A cold finger trailed down her cheek. She contorted into a fetal position and pretended she was on a tropical island with the sun’s rays beaming down upon her. As she recited the Lord’s Prayer aloud like her mom had taught her, the chill started to fade, and then it was completely gone.

  Soon I’ll be rid of you and your cold, dark soul, Tristan Lockhart.

  ****

  The rest of the week had gone by in a blur and before Edie knew it, Saturday was here. Of course during that time, Tristan had haunted her, haunted others, and generally had been a poltergeist. He hadn’t been much a chatterbox. Instead he’d made objects move around her room, the school, Jack’s, and at Diana’s house when Edie had visited.

  He’d appeared in mirrors but only Edie had seen him. Once or twice when enough fear had been invoked, he’d been able to step out into the living world, to yet again only be seen by Edie. She’d stifled her fear, told her friends to do the same, and eventually, he’d faded away, but with a promise to return.

  Edie knew that he’d keep his promise. Even though he was free, he was still restrained in many ways. He had a plan and it was frustrating Edie that she couldn’t figure it out. He was cunning, a great trickster.

  She’d almost backed out of going to the Grimsby Sanatorium with Jules and her GPS buddies. Well, she’d wavered for a millisecond, actually. She’d told herself it was one of those opportunities in life you pass up and regret later.

  She didn’t want to pass up such an opportunity even though a little voice inside her head—not Tristan’s—kept telling her that entering an abandoned asylum at night was a bad, bad idea.

  Yes, they were going there at night.

  She’d told Mason that they could do something Saturday evening, but that was when she’d thought that she’d be going to the sanatorium during the day. She’d failed to realize the GPS would want to investigate at night.

  “Higher level of paranormal activity,” Jules had told her at school when they’d met up in the library on Friday morning.

  They’d gotten together to discuss who would be joining them. There would be Quinn, who Edie already knew and wanted to dislike, but couldn’t given that he was a believer in the paranormal. And four college students who’d grown up Grimsby would also be there: Gunnar Templeton, co-founder, who’d inherited a bunch of money and was basically funding the GPS; his friend, Rory Edgecombe; and twin sisters, Bree and Amee McFadden. Jules had assured Edie that they were all “very cool.”

  Jules was glad Edie was going, thinking Edie had changed her mind. Edie had told Jules that it’d been Mason’s doing; he didn’t want her to go. But Edie had made up her mind. She was going. She had to go even if it was a mistake. In the library, Edie had told Jules to keep it a secret. Mason couldn’t know. Not even Diana and Madelyn. Jules hadn’t questioned why and just nodded. Edie had told her to pass the word along to Quinn, as well. Edie didn’t need him blabbering about how he’d spent an entire tonight with her in a creepy, abandoned mental asylum. She was assuming it was creepy. Abandoned places rarely were homey. And abandoned mental asylums just screamed, “Boo!”

  After Edie and Jules had said goodbye, Edie had run into Russell—literally. He’d held her gently by her arms, keeping her from falling. Saying it’d been awkward was an understatement.

  “Miss St. John,” he’d greeted.

  “Mr. Ballantine,” she’d greeted back.

  When the bell had rung, he’d quickly let go of her, before the students had rushed out of their classrooms. Edie had known then that he’d been Russell and not Tristan. Well, not fully Tristan. Russell still had some clarity, some sense of right and wrong. Tristan hadn’t corrupted him…yet; however Edie had seen that look in Russell’s eyes, that longing, that lust. She’d never submit, but she knew that his desire would only grow, not wane; so it made her more and more determined to cut Tristan away from Russell. She only hoped that by removing Tristan, she wouldn’t damage Russell. She didn’t know how ghost attachments worked and feared that she’d irreparably hurt Russell in her desire to help him.

  Well, she didn’t have much of a choice. It was her fault. She’d set Tristan free. Now she had to correct her folly and restrain him for good. How was a ghost restrained? She didn’t know and hoped the other, wandering souls out there would tell her. If not, then she was in for a world of trouble.

  Speaking of trouble, Rochelle had returned early from her suspension to the disappointment of many. Apparently her mom had fussed and fumed to the superintendent. Edie guessed that Mrs. Lafayette had some sort of clout, but she didn’t know what.

  Fortunately Mason’s ex had avoided Edie and hung out with her friend, Ravenna, who’d recovered enough to attend classes. Ravenna had acted even more scared of Edie than Rochelle, but she’d had good cause, thinking Edie was a witch, who’d gone all Hogwarts on her bedroom. Obviously she’d told that to Rochelle, who’d taken to wearing a large cross around her neck, as if Edie were a vampire that she’d desperately wanted to ward off.

  If Edie were to come to school unshaven and exposed her legs, Rochelle would think she was a werewolf too.

  ****

&nb
sp; “Yeah, I’m not feeling well,” Edie lied to Mason on the phone. She had it on speaker while she was getting dressed inside her room. “Sorry about tonight, but I think I have the flu or something. I wouldn’t want you to catch it.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” he said.

  Edie was happy that he accepted her lie so easily, but sad that she had to lie. It wasn’t a great way to begin a relationship. Although they’d begun under extraordinary circumstances; circumstances that two seventeen-year-olds rarely, if ever, encountered.

  “Just stay in bed and rest,” he continued. “Or do you want me to come over? I can make you some soup.”

  Edie almost fell trying to get her thick boots on. “Uh, no, that’s okay.” She coughed, really playing it up. “I don’t think I could eat anything. In fact, I’d probably just throw it back up.” Yuck. But she hoped that the image of her spewing up vomit would keep him away.

  “Well, then, I guess I’ll let you rest, alone. If it gets too bad have your uncle take you to the hospital. A flu bug can turn into something far worse. I-I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. I care about you, Edie.”

  She’d been adjusting her coat and scarf, but now stopped to pick up her cell phone. She took it off speaker and held it against her ear. “I care about you too, Mason. Thanks for everything.”

  “I remember when we first met and you kept thanking me. Do you remember what I said? That one day I’d do something to truly receive your thanks?”

  “Yeah,” she replied, uncertain as to where this conversation was going.

  “Well, I realized I was wrong. There’s nothing I can do, nothing spectacular to receive your gratitude. I can’t do much in this world, Edie. I can’t even protect you from that ghost.” He sounded sad, beaten down, defeated. “I don’t have a lot of money. I’m not that smart. I—”

  “No, Mason,” she cut him off. “Don’t talk like that.” She was on the verge of tears.

  Mason sighed into the phone. “Edie, it’s me who should be thanking you.”

  “For what, Mason?” she asked.

  “For being in my life,” he replied. “Before, I never thought I deserved to be happy, but then I met you, and with you by my side, I feel like my life finally has some meaning, you know? Like throughout all the failures I’ve gone through, the disappointments, the ‘Who Am I?’ phase that perhaps God was testing me, seeing how much I could endure, and then when I passed, I was rewarded—with you.”

  Edie almost, almost broke down, and admitted that she wasn’t really sick, and that she was lying to him, so she could sneak away to the sanatorium.

  She wiped the tears away that’d fallen during his admission. “I feel the same way,” she said, now telling the truth. “Even though I’m going through rough times, dark times, I wouldn’t be as strong as I am now if it hadn’t been for you, Mason, by my side.”

  “Edie, I wish I could be there with you. I don’t care if I get sick too.”

  “No, no, Mason. I need you well in case I need help like getting medicine, or my school assignments if I’m out for a few days. I’m sure it’s one of those 24 hour bugs or something. I think I’ll be better by tomorrow. If I am, we’ll do something, okay?”

  “Uh, yeah, sure,” he said. “I go to church in the morning, but we could do something after. Call me okay? Anytime,” he urged.

  “I will.” She’d been staring out her window and now saw Jules’s Tahoe arrive, waiting outside the locked gates. “I’d better go now,” she told Mason. “I need to lie down, rest.”

  “You do that and…Edie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I…I-I hope to see you tomorrow.”

  She was sure that those weren’t the words that he’d wanted to say, but she didn’t pressure him. He wasn’t ready. And she wasn’t ready to hear them. Besides she had to be focused for the ghost hunt tonight.

  “I hope to see you tomorrow too,” she returned.

  They said their goodbyes and Edie ended the call. She exhaled, loudly, and was glad the conversation was over, but worried as to the consequences. Jules honked her horn, waiting. Edie raced to the front door and entered the code to let her in. Finally, she went to her uncle’s study and knocked on his door. He opened it, holding a cigarette between his lips.

  She said, “If anyone calls or comes by, tell them I’m sick with the flu.”

  He looked her up and down, and then removed his cigarette. “Where’re you going?”

  “Out with friends,” she replied, and then she lied, saying, “School project.”

  He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You’re not sneaking off to meet that teacher, are you? Or your boyfriend?” he added as an afterthought.

  Edie grimaced. “No!” She bit her lip, and then truthfully said, “I’m going into an abandoned mental asylum to try to talk to ghosts.”

  Uncle Landon placed his cigarette back between his lips, and in a muffled voice, said, “Make him wear a condom.”

  Edie grimaced again. “Goodness gracious, uncle! Seriously! I’m going to the old Grimsby Sanatorium.” She gestured vaguely. “My friend’s car is outside. They’re waiting. Reenter the code after I’ve left.”

  He removed his cigarette again, and with the same hand, raked his fingers through his messy, black hair. She was surprised when he didn’t catch on fire.

  He sighed. “I’m not your dad, so go, but be careful, whatever you’re doing tonight.”

  “I’m going ghost-hunting, that’s all.”

  “Ghosts aren’t real,” he said with conviction.

  She didn’t want to argue and just shrugged. “We’ll see.” Then she gave him an inquisitive stare. “For a horror writer, you don’t believe in ghosts?”

  “If they did exist, I would’ve seen your mother by now. And my brother,” he added as an afterthought.

  “But-but aren’t they in Heaven?”

  Uncle Landon took a drag, and then exhaled. “Don’t you remember what it says in Scripture? No one goes to Heaven after death. They stay buried in the ground, or their ashes in a jar, or in the ocean, or something, until the Resurrection. You know? When we’re judged?”

  Edie refused to believe that her parents were not in Heaven, but she didn’t want to have a theological debate right now, either. Jules honked the horn again.

  “I have to go,” she told her uncle. “I’ll be back, well…I don’t know when, but if everything works out, hopefully in a few hours.”

  “I may not be your dad but I still care. If you’re not home”—he looked at the time on his wristwatch—“by midnight, I’m calling you up. And if you don’t answer, I’m calling the cops. Got it?” he threatened gently.

  She nodded. “Got it. Thanks, uncle.”

  “Be careful,” he said. “I may be a hermit, but family still matters to me, and you’re the only family I have left.”

  She gave him a quick hug, just in case she didn’t make it back. He hugged her back and followed her to the front door, where they said their goodbyes, and then she left the house. It was a short walk toward Jules’s Tahoe, and she was directed to sit in the front seat.

  Quinn had been regulated to the backseat. He gestured at the maze, and then the chapel. “What’s that all about?”

  Edie waved a not-now hand at him, and then looked over at Jules, who was readjusting her glasses to see Edie’s house better.

  “Awesome,” Jules said.

  Edie didn’t confirm or deny. “I have until midnight,” she informed instead. “My uncle’s concerned about me going, although he’s not entirely convinced I’ll be hunting ghosts. He thinks I’m going to hook up with a guy.” She purposely left out Russell’s name, and she didn’t want to mention Mason, getting all teary-eyed, again.

  Quinn grinned. “I’m a guy.”

  “Not you,” Edie clarified.

  Quinn slapped a hand over his heart. “Ah, I’m wounded,” he declared over-dramatically.

  “Get serious, Quinn,” Jules said. She backed out of the driveway, and then tur
ned out onto the road. “Or I’ll kick you out,” she threatened.

  Quinn settled against his seat. “You can’t do that, Julie-bean. You need me.”

  Jules sighed. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  After they’d driven away from Edie’s house, she turned around in her seat, and asked Quinn, “What’s so special about you?”

  He grinned. “Lots of things.”

  “Pervert,” Jules said.

  “Seriously,” Edie said to Quinn.

  “Well, apparently, ever since I’ve been possessed, I’m like a magnet for spirits. I get the best evidence.” He leaned forward. “So get ready southern belle, ’cause we about to square dance,” he sang in a horrible, southern accent. “With the dead,” he added in his normal tone, as if she were in need of clarification.

  Edie ignored informing him that no one square danced anymore.

  Instead she asked, “What was it like being possessed by a ghost? Why’d he do it? And how’d you get him to leave?”

  “I remember snippets,” Quinn said, “but I could tell that the ghost wasn’t trying to hurt me. He just wanted to communicate.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “He said ‘hello,’ and then something about knowing my grandmother, which was weird. I mean, he knew details about her life that I didn’t even know. Later, when I asked her about it, she just went all pale, and told me to stay away from the graveyard. We’d been investigating the graveyard,” he added, clarifying. “It was my first ghost hunt, and well, I didn’t expect anything to happen. Man, was I wrong. The others expected activity but not like that.”

  “And how’d you get him to leave?” she asked, fascinated.

  “I didn’t,” Quinn said. “He left on his own. I think he got spooked”—he smiled crookedly—“if that’s ironic.” His smile faded. “I was with Jules and the others,” he continued. “They were crowding all around me, excited, and I think he didn’t like all the attention, so he just left. I haven’t heard from him since.”