A Strange There After (17 page)

“Jason.”

He turned toward me with wet eyes and a
gaping mouth.

“I heard you. You’re here.”

A trembling hand lifted, stretching,
searching. Ignoring it, I drifted closer to him, breathing in his
scent. Clinging to the waning energy, I brushed my lips across his
cheek. His gaze widened as he drew in shocked breath.

“I felt you again, too.” He smiled
tentatively. “Hey, Quinn.”

His words startled me. They drew my attention
from his strong profile and surrounded me in happiness. Encouraged,
I looked around frantically for anything to use to communicate with
him. I caught sight of a lamp in the corner. Using my
concentration, I focused on the energy it emitted, even while off.
It took a little maneuvering, and a lot of effort, but I managed to
switch it on.

“Well done.” He chuckled. “What’s the trick
you ghost hunters use? Make it light up once for yes, twice for no?
Let’s try it.”

Jason tucked his hands in his front pockets.
He relaxed, seeming more like the Jason I remembered.

“Do you miss me?”

The cockiness in his question reminded me of
when I first met him and how I found it a bit annoying, similar to
how I do with Boone. I lit the light up, as bright and long as I
dared, grinning at his expression of wonder.

“Good, because I miss you like crazy. Can you
walk through walls?”

Missing the playful side of him, I gave him a
‘yes’ response and waited for the next inquiry.

“I bet once this is over you won’t want
anything to do with ghosts, ever.”

No.

“Right, I really didn’t need to ask that one.
Let’s see...have you seen Elvis yet?”

Flicking the light multiple times, I
chuckled. Joking with him came naturally, and my heart practically
glowed in my chest.

“I wish I could hear your laugh.” His tone
sobered. “Have you been hurt?”

I answered no. I didn’t have the ability to
describe the horrors I’d been through, physically and emotionally.
Doing that would dampen our unconventional reunion and make him
feel worse.

He huffed out a heavy sigh. “Are you
scared?”

An easy affirmative. Already, my energy began
to wane, and I desperately clung to it, wanting to keep up the
conversation.

“Me, too. We have to stay positive, both of
us. I’m sure we’ll find a way to undo this. Don’t go doing anything
stupid.”

I flicked the light once, hoping he
interpreted it as an agreement. It was the closest I’d felt to him
in so long. I didn’t have much family anymore, so Jason mattered. I
wasn’t a hundred percent sure if it was love or not, but I deserved
a chance to find out.

He closed his eyes, and I reveled in the
realization I’d done it. I’d made contact. For the first time, true
joy wrapped me in a tight embrace. We’d find a way to reverse this.
I wasn’t ready for an eternity of lingering caresses gone too
quickly.

Jason stood tall, clenching his fists at his
side.

“Come on. I’m going to find out what she
knows. One way or another.”

Chapter
Eighteen

I followed Jason into the kitchen, where Abby
and Catherine were locked in an intense staring contest. My friend
stood by the windows, her stance defensive, a scowl twisting her
brows. Catherine perched on the edge of a wooden chair, displaying
an air of extreme disdain. Boone lounged across the table from her.
His eyes sought mine as soon as I entered, and I offered him a tiny
smile, unsure of what I felt now the truth was out. Impatient.
Exhausted. Still misplaced.

Jason joined Abby as I placed myself between
them and our enemy. Catherine picked at her thumbnail, humming an
energetic tune I didn’t recognize.

“Let’s start with an easy question,” Jason
said, breaking the silence.

Catherine sighed, crossing one leg over the
other and leaning into the chair. “Fine.”

“Wait,” Abby interrupted, restarting her
trusty recorder and adjusting her buds. “In case Quinn wants to say
something.”

“I didn’t know you were actually hearing her
just now,” Jason remarked.

“Sorry,” she bit out sarcastically. “I also
didn’t think it would be so hard to convince you of the Great Body
Snatching Incident. She’s also very quiet. I catch some of her
words and fill in the blanks. I’ll let you use it later, when
you’ve adjusted a little more.” She fiddled with the buttons, and I
understood her unspoken meaning. She wasn’t quite ready to let him
off the hook for not believing us about Catherine. “Okay, I’m
set.”

Jason nodded, all business, and began his
questioning.

“You’ve been Quinn since the night in the
cemetery?”

“Yep.” She smiled like a satisfied cat.

I could practically hear him grind his teeth
at her lack of cooperation. He tried a different track. “And from
what I walked in on earlier, you’re up to your old tricks?”

“Why do I always get blamed?” she pouted.

“Because you’re usually responsible,” I
said.

Abby barked out a laugh, and Jason looked at
her expectantly.

She caught his glance and grinned. “She said,
‘because you’re usually responsible’.”

In a flat tone, Boone jumped in, telling
Jason everything, from when we’d tried to get me back where I
belong, to the two different entities and what we had learned about
them.

“Does Quinn have any idea why this seems to
be escalating,” Jason asked.

I sighed, wracking my brain to remember what
had changed the last couple of days. “All I’ve been able to come up
with is this woman is ticked off at our family for some reason. The
man, he’s different. I get the sense he’s more of a background
figure, watching and observing, not ready to make his intentions
known.”

Catherine’s tone turned dire. “How many times
have I told you not to bother yourself with details you do not
understand.”

“Which brings me back to my point—you’re to
blame.”

“Don’t lay this all on my feet. So what if
the woman’s hurt you? She is child’s play compared to
him
.”

“Stop!” Everyone turned to Abby. “Sorry, it’s
hard trying to keep up with you two. All I caught was something
about the man being as dangerous as a child. That can’t be
right.”

“You actually hear her?” Jason demanded.

“I told you, it’s faint, and I can’t make out
all the words, but yeah, works pretty good.”

“Wonderful,” Catherine murmured.

Jason stared into space, again, probably
trying to gather his thoughts. I watched him shake it off and glare
at a spot over Catherine’s shoulder.

“Who is this woman, the other one?” he
asked.

Playing with the ends of her hair, Catherine
explained. “Some would say she’s what started this entire
mess.”

A heavy silence fell over the room, as we all
waited for her to say more. Of course, she didn’t.

I answered for her. “That could be. Jackson
said her story is tied to the boy’s, George, so she’s been here a
while. Although I never sensed her until I was like this.”

“You and Jackson are awfully chummy,”
Catherine said, casting a scowl in my direction. Her displeasure
made me happy.

Ignoring her, I spoke to Boone, “The woman is
dangerous. She’s the one who hurt me and the other ghosts. The man,
the one Catherine made a deal with not long after dying, he has the
power to stop the attacks.” I didn’t add in the part about him
offering his help or how it tempted me. My friends would not like
that bit, and I needed to find out more about what this offer
meant.

There was a pause then Boone posed another
question. “Tell us about this deal you made.”

Catherine shifted in her seat, keeping her
lips sealed. The longer the quiet stretched out, the tenser the air
became.

“She’s not going to help. Why should she?
Once a selfish witch, always a selfish witch.”

The glare Catherine shot Abby was hot enough
to melt steel, but she maintained her poker face. In fact, she
stood and said, “I don’t have to take this.”

She hadn’t even made it two feet before Boone
jumped into her path. “Nope. You’re not going anywhere.”

“You can’t keep me here!”

“The hell we can’t,” Abby added.

“I’ll tie you to the chair if I have to,”
Boone warned.

Panic flashed in Catherine’s expression, and
I couldn’t stop my grin. Once it passed, she glared at Boone
unconvincingly. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” His jaw clenched as he stared her
down.

“I can’t talk about this.” This time, her
bravado faded some, and true emotion peeked out. Fear stole the
color from her cheeks, and moisture gathered in her eyes.

“If you’re scared, it means we’re on the
right track,” I said.

Her gaze darted around the room. “I’m not
some simple girl you can bully into talking. I’ve seen things, done
things. Things your innocent soul cannot fathom, Quinn. You should
be as afraid as I am.”

“Tell us!”

Jason’s shout startled us all, and
Catherine’s moment of weakness snapped.

“Fine.” The word exploded out of her mouth,
and tears formed in her eyes, real ones this time by the look of
it. “Stop yelling at me.”

On wobbly legs, she returned to sink into her
chair.

“I don’t remember much about dying,” she
began in a rush, “but believe me when I say drowning brings about
suffering. Add in the fact my body was broken, making my struggles
almost too painful to bother with. I recall a moment of peace
before the blackness overtook me. How I wish it would have been a
true end. Maybe I died with too much hate in my heart—hate at my
husband, at my family, at Jackson for not coming soon enough. I’m
not sure why I didn’t pass on to whatever comes after.”

A wry smile twisted her lips. “I woke up
thankful, ecstatic. I truly believed I’d survived. My first
instinct was to run home.” She gazed at the house in sadness. “It
was night, and I asked a few strangers I came across for help. They
didn’t even acknowledge me. I probably looked terrible or so I told
myself, having just crawled from the Savannah River. If it were me,
I wouldn’t have given a moment’s thought to someone as bedraggled
as me.”

Surprisingly, I became sympathetic toward
her. A trickle of sadness passed between us, through the connection
we had. I knew what it felt like to wander the streets and not be
seen, to beg for aid and not be answered. Not many understood such
a deep level of loneliness. As much as I hated finding common
ground with Catherine, I knew what her shoes felt like.

Her story captured Jason and Abby’s
attention. Both watched her with rapt expressions, but Boone seemed
to be listening with half an ear, mulling the information over in
his head.

“The sight of my home lifted my spirits.
While I do blame my parents for tossing me into a fateful marriage,
I ached to be held by my mother’s loving arms. No matter what
passed between us, I loved her as any daughter would. Now she
avoids me as if I am a plague.”

She shook her head to clear her thoughts,
wiping at her surprisingly wet cheeks, and carried on. “In my
haste, I didn’t stop to open the door, as if, deep inside, I
already accepted what I was. The house was quiet. I had no idea how
much time had passed between my death and my homecoming. I heard
voices and followed them. Imagine my surprise when I walked into
the dining room to find my father and my brother, who we’d long
thought a casualty of the war.”

“A brother?” I asked, the same instant Abby
said, “Wait, you had siblings?”

“Of course. If I’d been an only child, our
family name would have died with my parents. Nate,” Catherine
sighed. “He was the oldest, the golden boy, smart and handsome.
When the war broke out, his sense of duty had him following Jackson
straight into the recruitment office. They were best friends, did
everything together.

“Anyway, I learned from listening to my
father and Nate’s conversation that he’d been a prisoner. The
Yankees set him free, but it was winter. He came to a farm, the
family suffering from the long years of fighting. My brother always
had a soft heart. They offered him shelter from the snow, and in
return, he helped them through the cold months, replanted the
fields that had been burned. William and I married two months
before Lee surrendered, and we lasted six more before he killed me.
By the time Nate made it home, his sister was dead and his mother
confined to an asylum.”

“As terrible as this all is, what does it
have to do with anything?”

Boone’s harsh question jolted Catherine to
the present. She shot him a hot gaze, narrowing her eyes.

“Imagine trying as hard as you can to get
those who loved you to hear your voice. Nothing I did drew their
attention. Quinn understands. And I know for a fact your perfect
little princess has been tempted by the same darkness I was.”

I paused. How did she know?

“No,” Jason barked out. “She wouldn’t. She’s
not you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure about
that?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fine. It’s not my fault you don’t like the
answers I have.”

“You haven’t really given us any,” Abby piped
in.

“Quinn’s being awfully quiet, isn’t she?”
Catherine goaded.

I swallowed thickly, wondering how the
conversation had swung back to me. Catherine possessed a knack for
pulling the spotlight off of her and directing it to someone else.
She shared some, enough to make me believe she might have been
willing to tell us the truth, but she was too clever for that.

“Ask her,” she continued. “Ask her about when
she attacked me in the kitchen. And again when Abby was standing
right there.”

“Only because you were trying to choke me!”
Abby cried.

But Catherine wasn’t done yet. “And of all
the ghosts you’ve investigated, how many can throw a person across
the room? She’s getting desperate, and it lets the evil in. I know
what is stalking her and how it prays on the weaknesses of others.
And Quinn’s weakness is you,” she turned to Jason, “and you,” she
pointed at Abby. “Everyone she cares about is a trap for her.”