The Awakening (23 page)

"So what, like, happened exactly to your dad?" Becca asks.

I sigh and my chest hurts from the trapped feelings of guilt and remorse at not having warned him of my visions. Would he have believed me, though? Probably not. "Dad was cleaning up the mess when he said he felt himself being dragged backwards into the hallway. Like someone had him by the collar. Then he was shoved down the stairs."

Taylor gasps in horror, her hand to her mouth, even though this is the third time she's heard this story.

"Heavy shit," Becca says.

"No kidding," I say firmly, trying to hide my fear over the entire sitch.

"Fortunately, Mr. Moorehead was able to grab the banister and didn't fall all the way down the stairs. He wasn't hurt too badly," Celia adds.

I glower. "If you consider a mild concussion and a bloody cheek as not hurt too badly."

Celia looks over at me. "Sorry. Just that it could have been worse."

"You're right, Celia. I know what you meant. He is lucky. It could have been a hell of a lot worse if he'd busted his skull on the marble."

Taylor scribbles in her notebook. "Fascinating. Just fascinating. Oh! Not the part about your father's skull busting. Just that I'd love to get a couple of cameras set up in there on timers so we can get some still images and see what we're up against."

Celia turns to Becca. "I've got the recorders for you and I'll install the sound software on your computer."

"Cool."

Then Celia says to me, "Can you get in there to dowse, Kendall?"

"I'd like to," I say.

Stretching her long legs out, Celia adjusts her seated position and says, "I did some quick research on the city hall building. It dates back to the early 1800s and was a flourishing center of the town during and after the Civil War. Apparently, there were a lot of trials following the war that centered on local landowners."

"Fighting carpetbaggers and stuff?" Taylor asks.

"Probably so. Maybe other things," Celia explains. "We'll check it out further with some more research. Main thing is for all of us to be on the same page before going to the site. Becca, you're in charge of all the sound recordings. Taylor, pictures, pictures, pictures. Video, mini-DVD, you name it. I'll set up the base camp with the computers and monitoring for the infrared cameras—"

I straighten up. "You got them?"

"Six of them," Celia says with a smile.

I tilt a brow upward.

"What can I say?" she says with a laugh. "I knew your parents would eventually come around and we could do this for real. Had them FedExed a couple of days ago."

I reach over and high-five her. "You're the best!"

Looking around at the ragtag group of girls gathered in my bedroom, I can't help but be excited. We'll bring this ghost to justice. It'll regret the day it ever messed with my dad.

"Okay, ghost huntresses. Let's go kick some major spirit ass at city hall!"

Five o'clock in city hall, and the official business is done for the day. Our work has just begun.

We've got three hours to set up and "go dark," as Celia's heroes the
Ghost Hunters
say. Since it's Wednesday and a school night, we won't stay while our recordings are going on. We'll just set up, make sure everything's working, and then head home to let the spirits frolic as they may. Then we'll come back Friday night and get serious about having fun. That's the time we'll dig in and I'll try my hand at a psychic connection with whoever—or whatever—this entity is. It'll also give us time to do more research.

Celia and Becca have set up a card table at the base of the grand marble staircase that sits in the middle of city hall and leads to the second-floor offices where Dad works.

Taylor starts to spray some Oust to cover up the mustiness of the over-two-hundred-year-old building, but I stop her. Smells—no matter how sneeze-worthy they may be—are essential in the hunting as well. The clear windows let in the last remnants of the afternoon sun, casting an orange glow on Celia's monitors and Becca's recording equipment.

A tickle skulks up my back, making the hair at my neck stand at military attention. My heartbeat picks up and I sense someone is coming. Not a spirit, though. Human.

I spin around, hoping that Loreen has come to watch our first ghost-hunting expedition. However, I nearly pant when I see those blue eyes I'm obsessed with.

"Hey," Jason says, a bit out of breath.

"Hey," I mimic. "What are you doing here?"

"Taylor told me what was going on, so I skipped out of track practice to help out."

And apparently ran all the way from RHS.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, as if he's unsure what to say to me next. Honestly, am I
that
scary? No! At least, I hope not. After all, he's just doing this to keep an eye on his sister. Still, a niggling deep down in my stomach tells me he's watching me as well. He's so close. My senses are piqued, and my insides are like a bowl of mashed potatoes. Not such a good simile, but I feel squishy, warm, and comforted. I'm too attached to Jason Tillson. How will I be able to really sense what's going on here at city hall if his gorgeousness is distracting me from properly ghost hunting?

"So, use me," he says with a roguish smile.

My mouth falls open. "Huh?"

"You know. To help."

Get a grip, Kendall
. "Oh. Well. I hadn't exactly decided whether we needed a skeptic or not on the team," I manage to choke out.

He smiles. "I figured I'd make up your mind for you by showing up."

"Jason, I appreciate—"

"Besides, I can lend a hand with heavy lifting or whatever you need. You know, guy stuff." His eyes nearly sparkle in the twilight of the room. "Come on, Kendall. Let me."

Becca snaps her gum. "Might as well, Kendall. If this friggin' spirit pushed your dad down the stairs—and he's a fair-sized dude—we may need some muscle around here to ward off any evil."

Jason reaches out and fist-bumps Becca.

Knowing I'm going to regret this—and hoping it doesn't hamper our investigation—I give in. "All right. Come with me."

Celia doesn't exactly look thrilled, but she remains silent.

Jason and I leave them to finish setting up base camp. Together, we climb the monstrous marble staircase. I firmly grip the railing, never knowing when the spirit—or spirits—might lash out again. Don't want to go flying ass over tits with a cute boy around.

"Where are we going?" Jason asks, keeping pace with me.

"Up to Dad's office."

"To do what?"

"Observe. Listen. Investigate. You know, 'cause we're ghost hunters?"

"Listen to what?"

I flinch. "Too many questions, Jason."

He nods and steps a pace behind me. "Right. Sorry."

At the landing, Taylor is setting up one of the infrared cameras in a corner, pointed just right to get a shot of the top of the staircase. She stands and brushes her hands together. "There! All set. Now if that mean old ghost tries to push anyone else down the steps, we'll get it on tape."

"You're really into this, aren't you?" Jason says to his sister.

Taylor beams a brilliant smile at him. "You're darn toot-in'!" Then she runs off down the hallway to the room where the security tapes are kept.

"Darn tootin'?" I ask, with a quirked grin.

His eyes squeeze shut and he sighs. "She's adopted, from another planet, anything but my twin ... I don't know," he jokes.

"I think she's adorable."

Jason stares at my mouth for what seems like an hour and I almost hear his words in my head.
You're adorable.
A blush paints me from head to toe, and I step away to break our moment. "Well. Okay, then. Let me fill you in on everything that's going on." I point down the hallway. "Taylor's setting up cameras in Dad's office, as well as the hallway and the top of the steps. She's also got two tripodded cameras on timers to take still photos throughout the night. Celia's software not only tracks but records temperature changes, so we can analyze it later. Rebecca's been bugging the joint with microphones so we can pick up any EVPs tonight. Those are—"

"Electronic voice phenomena. I know. I've been reading up on this stuff."

"Oh. Okay." Wow, he really is serious about helping us now. Maybe my "quit acting like an adult" speech had a more positive effect on him than I originally thought. I certainly don't mind watching his broad shoulders as he walks in front of me down the hallway. Or his cute butt that fits nicely into those Levi's 501s. Man, I have
got
to stop ogling him and worry about this asshole ghost who's after my dad. Or is it that the spirit is specifically targeting the city planner? Hmmm.

As I'm mulling this over, Jason knocks me out of my thoughts. "What's Celia doing?"

"She's manning all of the computer equipment at base camp. She's also responsible for all these tech toys, courtesy of Mega-Mart. Thanks to her AmEx, we've got temperature gauges, flashlights, cameras, wiring, computers, you name it."

Jason spreads his arms wide. "This is amazing. I had no idea."

I smile and wink. "You ain't seen nothin' yet."

Oh my God! Did I just flirt? I did, didn't I? I overtly flirted.
Down, girl!

"I, umm, uhh, want to check out my dad's office. You know, to debunk whether anyone could get in at all." I hand him the small meter that I'd picked up from Celia's base-camp table. "You want to, like, take temperature readings?"

"Sure."

Our hands touch innocently enough as I pass the meter to him, sparking that tingly sensation from the tips of my fingers to the ends of my hair. This isn't like my psychic tingling awareness. This is all about him.

"Why do you take temperature readings?"

"If the temperature drops dramatically," I explain, echoing what I've learned from Celia and the Internet, "it's a sign that a spirit could be present."

"If you believe in that stuff."

I look him square in the eyes. "I have to, Jason."

"Or else what?"

"Or else I'm just a crazy lunatic who sees and talks to people who aren't really there."

He hangs his head a little. "I guess I understand where you're coming from."

This is my job now. My mission. To right the wrong done to Dad. And to get this spirit to move on ... if I can do that.

Entering Dad's office, I take a few deep breaths and then try to center my energies. Last night, Loreen called Celia, who then three-wayed us together (so my mom wouldn't know I was talking to Loreen). Loreen told me I have to tune in to everything my body is trying to say because the slightest itch, twitch, or even indigestion could be a sign of something. One breath. Two. Third one. Hmmm ... Jason's wearing some amazing spicy cologne.

Stop it!

Focus. Focus. Concentrate.

The noxious stench of paint fumes is up front and present in my mind. Ahhh ... the clairalience ability Loreen was telling me about. Guess I have that, too. "The windows in this office are painted shut. They have been since the seventies," I say, very sure of myself.

Jason goes over to the sill next to Dad's desk, and there's no way in hell that even his athletic bulk could open the frame. "Yep. That's pretty stuck. How'd you know that?"

I shrug. "That's how it is. I just
know
things." I keep looking around. "So, no one could have come in that way." Eyes closed, I face the door. "The office was locked. Everyone was gone. Yet the model of the development, which was over on the table, was completely destroyed."

Quietly, Jason stands by my side while I mull this over. Then he nudges me.

"Am I supposed to tell you when the temperature drops?"

"Sure," I say.

He shows me the reading. "It just went from sixty-eight degrees to forty-two."

"What?"

He shakes the monitor. "It must be broken."

Spoken like a true skeptic. "It's brand new."

"Then how'd you do that?"

"
I
didn't."

I crouch down and fan my fingers out in front of me. Sure enough, the air feels like a gust from an air conditioner. I can almost see its path sweeping out the door. Is this the entity? Or simply some peculiar HVAC problem in this old building? Pulling Jason by the arm, I instinctively follow the trajectory of the breeze. "This way."

Twenty or so steps down the hallway and I'm back to the staircase. "Dad was standing right about here when he got manhandled."

"Don't worry, Kendall," Jason says. "I won't let anything hurt you."

Oh, there's that delicious ache in the bottom of my stomach. Just like when I would ride the Ferris wheel at Navy Pier back home. That unbelievably scary-yet-thrilling
wheeeeeeeeee!

Of course, just as I relax and take my concentration away from the ghost hunting at hand to bask in Jason's words, something happens. Rather, something knocks into me, hard. Before I know what's happening, my feet are lifted right out from under me and I'm teetering toward the edge of the top step. I open my mouth to scream, but it's like someone's gripping my throat. I hear laughter. And I see my own demise as I begin to plummet down the marble flight.

That is, until Jason's strong arm reaches out and grabs me in the nick of time. He jerks me into his chest and we both collapse backwards onto the floor.
Bam!

There's nothing in my lungs, and I struggle to get a mouthful of air. "I-I-I can't ... can't..."

"Shhh," Jason says.

Although he's holding me steady, I realize that I've had the wind knocked out of me. It happened once at vacation Bible school when we were playing red rover and I got clotheslined in the throat when Nancy Pulkki forgot to let go of Aaron Murray's hand. Only this is nothing like that. I'm not a little kid anymore and I'm up against something much more ferocious than Nancy's and Aaron's joined hands.

"Just breathe, Kendall. I've got you."

His voice is so soothing. So calming. So reassuring.

Then it hits me painfully in the face. I'm in Jason's arms. Not like that time in the cafeteria; more like what happens in my dream. I quiver in his grip. "Holy crap!"

"What? Are you all right?"