Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [34]
An idea formed in my mind, one so obvious that I deserved a smack to my head for not thinking it sooner. There were two ghosts. There had been more than a few tragic deaths here; it would stand to reason there could be more than one spirit haunting the place.
The first ghost seemed threatening, out to hurt me, but the second seemed more complex. I remembered the words I had heard this afternoon asking if I had received the messages. Maybe the second spirit was simply trying to communicate with me. It had told me not to trust Brent, but I wasn’t going to follow that blindly. Vovó had mentioned that bored ghosts weren’t above lying or toying with people’s emotions to amuse themselves.
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek deciding what to do. Maybe if I opened a line of dialogue with the ghost and listened to what it had to say, it would leave me alone or move on.
“W-What do you want?” I stuttered, wrapping my arms around myself. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but nothing happened. I stomped my feet, rubbing my hands together and blowing on them.
Something smacked the glass beside me, startling me. A large handprint shaped in the moisture on the window, and letters slowly formed beside it.
Warn you
All my joints felt rubbery, as I gasped out, “Warn me about what?”
Danger
“What’s dangerous? Who’s in danger?” I whispered, clasping my fingers together, my shoulder slick against the moist glass.
Not Me
What did that mean? Was the ghost telling me I was in danger? Or was the ghost letting me know he wasn’t dangerous? I rubbed my head; maybe I needed to ask better questions. Before I could ask another one, the glass and the temperature instantly reverted to the way they had been. The pounding of feet on the floor behind me drew my eyes to a wet Brent who was hurrying over.
“I thought you left,” he said stopping close to me, the dripping water creating a puddle at his feet.
“I was going to.” I cast a nervous glance over my shoulder, still uneasy about having a conversation with a ghost. “I better get back. I’m behind on my Bio homework,” I explained, spinning to leave.
He reached out but pulled short of touching me, retracting his hand quickly, a strange gleam in his eye. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I gulped before answering. “I’m good.”
I flashed him a big smile as I retreated from the pool house.
****
On the way back to my dorm my thoughts were befuddled. I wished my Vovó wasn’t in another country; I could really use her guidance. I was starting to regret not having spent much time gleaning information from her the way Cherie had over the years. That’s when I realized that even though I didn’t have Vovó, I had Cherie and her surplus of knowledge, and not only would she believe me, she also knew Pendrell’s paranormal history.
When I burst into my room I found Cherie laying on her bed, her feet in the air, studying. She took one look at me and rose to her knees knowing I had something big to tell her.
Suddenly nervous, I gulped, dropping onto my bed before revealing my two ghosts theory. I brought her up to speed on everything: the mist, the footprints, the steamy bathroom, being followed, not being able to control my astral projection, and finally my conversation with the ghost. The only thing I held back was Brent’s ability to astral project; that was his secret, not mine. Cherie’s eyes grew wide taking in every detail, the rosy color in her cheeks fading.
“Why didn’t you tell me all this earlier?”
Hanging my head in shame, I admitted, “I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me.”
Cherie’s voice was quiet. “Why would you think that?”
“My whole life people thought Vovó was crazy. I know you wanted to believe in all of this . . . but wanting to believe and actually believing it are two different things.” I clutched my pillow to my chest as I asked the important question. “Do you believe me?”
“Every single word.” Cherie reached out and ruffled my hair.
A breath I didn’t even know I