Grave Possession (Wraith 3) (15 page)

“Like when you first met my Tonya?”

She remembered. When I first met Tonya, I thought she was real. Skipping along after Ms. Frances. When my father didn’t see her, I knew she was a spirit. Maybe that was my problem. Maybe I was muddling up real and not real.

“Maybe so,” I agreed. “It’s hard to tell sometimes.”

She rested a hand on my shoulder and smiled. “You’ll figure it out. Remember, you’ll figure it out when the time is right. Sometimes you have to wait for the information. You can’t push it.”

I nodded and stepped toward the door, the heat of the kitchen getting to me. “Thank you, Ms. Frances, you always help me see things clearer.”

“Sometimes it takes an old lady to get through the muck,” she laughed. “Don’t push away people who are trying to help. I know you have that habit.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve got the same one. We don’t like people in our business, but we’re in the business of dealing with people. You gotta open up.”

I stepped away from the porch and walked back to the house, resting my eyes on the still swing. Ms. Frances was right. This would be revealed one step at a time. I just needed to be patient.

*

The drive back to Savannah was long and boring. Ava planned on coming back the following day, but since dorms were open for students who needed to get back, I escaped as soon as I could. My house felt too confined. I blamed my funk on the break-up and my mother believed it enough to give me some peace. If Jeannie wanted to tell her about our conversation, she could.

Back in my dorm room, I felt pent up and angry. Sad. Because Louis dumped me. Angry because, apparently, I’m crazy. And Connor? I didn’t know how to feel about Connor, although I had a better idea of how he felt about me.

I ate two of the three cookies my mom sent back with me and considered watching sad videos on YouTube, but I had energy racing through my veins. Maybe it was just the sugar, but I needed some fresh air.

After lacing my running shoes, I downloaded some vengeful music on my iPod. I passed the quiet dorm rooms of my housemates, taking a gulp of the cold evening air when I hit the front steps. I took off down the streets. It was dark and late, but the street lamps were lit and enough people had their Christmas lights up. I felt pretty safe.

My legs started cold and stiff, but my body warmed up. Just as I eased into my run, someone stepped into pace next to me. I recognized Connor’s gait and body immediately. That only pissed me off more. He shouldn’t be so familiar. Not anymore.

I kept going, ignoring him, even though I knew I couldn’t outrun him. Blood pumped in my ears, drowning out his footsteps. Aggravated, I crossed in front of three cars without looking, the front bumper of one grazing my thigh. The driver blared their horn in frustration.

“Sorry!” I shouted, never looking back.

“Jane!” Connor yelled.

We neared the part of town close to his dorm. I spotted his building and ran in that direction. Twinkling lights wrapped around the walkway railings and lit trees sat in the wide,
former motel windows. If I couldn’t beat him, I figured I would  lead him this way on purpose, hoping he’d drop off and leave me alone.

As we neared the area where we confronted our amnesiac ghost, I heard Connor faintly call my name again. Screw him. Screw all the boys. Having had enough, I jerked to a stop. Through struggled breaths, I shouted, “What the hell, Connor? Stalk much?”

He rested his hands on his waist. I was pleased to see he had was having a hard time breathing, too. “I’m not stalking you.”

“Yeah, right. You just happened to come back early and go on a run.”

Connor shook his head. “My break sucked. I’m not used to all that family time anymore. All my friends from high school drink and smoke and I can’t, no, I won’t do that. I’m still on probation. I figured I’d just come back. My mom basically shoved me out the door.”

I searched for something snarky to say back, but my heart wasn’t into it. He looked as sad as I felt. Finally, I said, “Back off of me, okay? I can’t deal with all of this right now.”

“Deal with what?” Angry confusion clouded his face and, for a second, I wanted to smack it off.

“You’ve been holding back on me! I heard you and Jeannie the other night.”

He clenched his jaw, prepared to argue with me, but then his eyes grew wide. He shouted, “Move!”

“Move where!?” I shouted I return, but then I saw the dark, inky shadow run through his chest before it slammed full force into mine, knocking me backwards. I lost my balance and skidded forward, catching myself hard on the ground with my hip and palms. My cheek crashed into the sidewalk.

“Jane!” Connor yelled. He knelt down and lifted me up, pulling off my hat. “You’re bleeding.”

“What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know.”

My face felt like it had been smashed with a shovel. “How bad is it?” I asked. It felt terrible. Tentatively, I touched my nose and teeth to see if they were busted. “Ouch.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he said helping me off the ground. I felt around my mouth, checking my teeth, everything seemed to be in place. “You’re going to bruise and you have a pretty big cut under your eye, but it could be worse.” His eyes searched the area around us, but we were alone. The shadow was gone. “Let’s go upstairs and I’ll clean it up.”

I had little choice but to follow him. My hip took the brunt of the fall – well, the part that my face didn’t absorb. I limped along with him and he kept his arm around my waist.

“Again, I ask, what kind of ghost or spirit was that?”

“I don’t know.” Connor fished the key out of his pocket and opened the door. “I’ve never seen one that dark before. It didn’t have a body.”

“I’ve never had one run me over like a freight train.” He nodded and ushered me in the room. He flicked on the lights, but nothing happen.

“Must have burned out,” he said, after trying a couple more times. He walked to his computer and switched it on. Light and music poured out, giving us enough to see. I glanced around the room, noticing that both sides were pretty neat this time. Tom must’ve cleaned before he went home for Christmas. I noticed a drawing taped to the wall. Different from his normal, creepy artwork.

“That’s new,” I said, pointing to the sketch. The partial image of a girl’s smile tipped upward seemed utterly positive against the gargoyles and demons.

“Yeah, apparently the
goth phase is new for Tom. Before this semester, everything was sunshine and roses. Now? It’s like haunted house stuff. I guess that’s one of the old ones.”

The room was overly warm, but maybe that was from running so hard. I stripped off my jacket and gloves, tossing them on the desk chair. Connor handed me a clean, damp towel. I pressed it against the wound under my eye.

Connor took off his jacket and went into the bathroom. He came back out with a first-aid kit and gestured to the bed. “Sit over here.”

He rolled the desk chair over and placed his knees outside of mine. The first-aid kit balanced on one leg. With shaky fingers, he unwrapped an antiseptic wipe and said, “Okay, move the towel.”

“It’s going to hurt,” I whined.

“Probably, but I need to see if this needs stitches.”

I lowered the towel and watched his face. He didn’t seem disgusted or exceptionally panicked, which was a good sign. Connor used one hand to steady my head and the other to gently dab the cleaner on the wound. “You okay?” he asked when I winced.

“Yeah, does it need stitches?”

“I don’t think so. The cut really isn’t bleeding that badly. It’s more of a bad scrape.”

“You saw that thing before I did,” I said. “Why can you see them and I can’t?” He tensed, but said nothing. “I heard you and Jeannie in the hallway last night. I know you’re worried about me. I know I’m missing stuff.”

He dabbed it a couple of times and rummaged in the kit for a bandage. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he said. “But we’ll figure it out.”

I studied Connor’s face for the first time in ages. He’d shaved since last night, probably for his mother. She hated the scruff. He worked his jaw, tensing the back muscle. I reached out and touched the knot, allowing my fingers to run along his chin. His blue eyes jerked up to mine.

“Sorry,” I said, dropping my hand. “You’re doing that thing when you get tense. The jaw thing.”

I looked away from his eyes and fanned myself. Wow, it was hot in here.

He didn’t respond, but kept searching in the kit. Picking a bandage out, he took off the adhesive edges and then carefully wiped the cut again. He blew on the drying antiseptic. Goosebumps rose up and down my exposed skin.

Connor leaned close, over my lap, and for a second I felt lightheaded. Did that fall affect my brain? The room felt so warm and Connor smelled so, so good, like laundry and sweat – the good kind. When he leaned over to secure the bandage on my cheek, I forgot what I had been angry and scared about – how I even ended up here.

I lifted a hand to Connor’s face, mirroring his position. His eyes locked with mine. “I’m sorry about New Year’s Eve.”

“Me, too.”

“I know you were only trying to help.”

“We seem to have a jinx or something with the New Year.” He ran his hands anxiously over his thighs a couple of times and the room shrank. I placed my hands over his, trying to calm him but it seemed to have the opposite effect and Connor snapped, half-standing and pushing me backwards onto the bed. His face and body hovered over mine, but he didn’t do anything else. He just stared down at me, eyes glazed.

“What?” I asked. Every nerve stood on end, braced and ready for this moment. What had I been fighting? This was right. It was and had been the only thing that was right for a long time.

“You’re so beautiful.”

I pushed up on my elbows and kissed him, sparking a coil of electricity between us that spread through my body and down my limbs. The dark shadow in my chest receded. It dissipated even more when Connor kissed me back and ran an arm under my back, lifting me toward the headboard.

Heat rushed between us. My face no longer hurt and I was consumed with a desire for Connor, so strong I barely felt the niggling concern in the back of my mind. Everything was perfect.

So incredibly perfect. Too perfect?

Connor must have thought it was right, too – obviously he did. We were in synch. His fingers grazed my stomach and I grabbed at his shirt, pushing it above his abs and away from his chest. I wanted to see his chest. See his body. He used one hand to tug the shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor.

Um… wow.

I lifted my hand, feeling the warmth of his skin. I wanted to feel him all over. No. Needed to. Again, Connor’s movements mirrored my own, his fingers slipping under the fabric of my shorts. He kissed my stomach and stopped. Eyes boring into my flesh.

“When did you get this?” he asked, running his hand over the ink.

“After you left.”

He was the only person who understood the symbolism. I never thought he’d see it. Or maybe I always knew he would be the only one to see it? He grazed his fingers over the mark and then kissed it softly.

That kiss ignited a fire between us, all remaining rationality falling away.

His tenderness moved to something more frantic and I ignored the pressure on my hip, where I’d bruised it in the fall. Where his thumb dug into my skin. I focused on Connor’s eyes. On the affection and desire. Why had I given this up? I felt his breath on my ear and he whispered my name over and over, only stopping to remove the remainder of our clothing.

My heart beat strong and loud as we pushed beyond the boundaries we’d set with one another long ago. But that was then and things were different now. In the heat of this tiny room, I realized we’d changed and all I wanted was him. All he wanted was me. That hole in my chest filled with something other than the souls of the dead.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice thick and muffled.

“Yes,” I nodded, wondering why he would even stop to ask.

Sticky with sweat, I stared into Connor’s eyes, blissed that his mouth was on mine. Forgetting everything else, we gave ourselves to one another.

*

My whole body ached the next morning, from my head to hip, and everywhere in between. I couldn’t blame my actions on drinking, but I felt like I’d been hit by a vat of Hunch Punch. One peek at Connor’s unmoving, passed out body implied he felt the same.

I wiggled out from under his arm, the one with the chain of tattoos twisted around the taut, hard flesh, and groggily searched for my clothes. How I wasn’t embarrassed last night was the biggest question of all. I’d been carefree and perfectly at ease, but today? In the light of day? I
scrambled for my shirt and running shorts.

What the hell happened?

I glanced up at Connor while tying my shoes. The perfect arching dip of muscles in his back and smooth arms splayed across the bed. The sheet barely covered his lower body and my eyes fixed on the two dimples anchoring his lower back. I was struck with an understanding of why
that
happened and why I wanted to. Connor was gorgeous and I didn’t exactly regret what we did. I was just confused. How did we get from running down the street to his bed?