Spiritus, a Paranormal Romance (Spiritus Series Book#1) by Dana Michelle Burnett
Part of me knew that I should be concerned about this spirit that kept appearing to me, but I couldn’t make myself worry about it. I couldn’t make myself afraid of him. I wasn’t crazy, which was all that mattered.
Dad didn’t look up as I gathered my things and he gave me a distracted wave when I said goodbye. I didn’t let it bother me. He was wrapped up in his new project and it was good to see him excited about something. Mom would be pleased to see him so happy. I always pictured her still worrying about him.
We were in unchartered territory, Dad and me. In my life, he spent most of his time at work. I would see him for a few hours on the weekends and that was it, and then my Mom died. Now two years later, we were still familiar strangers unsure of what to say to each other.
I stopped in the hall and gathered my purse and books. The air was cool there, untouched yet by the sunshine coming through windows.
Flipping through the pages of my notebook, I felt a chill go up my spine. I turned and looked around the hall. There was a thick rug going the length of the hall and as I watched, it disappeared and the chandelier overhead was lit with candles.
Out of the corner of my eye, in the doorway of the office, I caught movement. My breath caught in my throat. I forgot that I wasn’t afraid. I backed against the wall, staring at the empty doorway, waiting for the spirit to show himself.
“Go away,” I demanded under my breath.
Minutes went by and nothing happened. The rug returned and the candles disappeared. I waited just a moment more and then with one last glance back, I left the shadows of the hall.
I stepped out into the sharp light of the morning and stumbled down the stone walkway. I told myself over and over I was not afraid of whatever it was in that house.
I calmed down on the walk to school and let my mind wander. Who was this spirit? What did he want?
It seemed impossible to me that me and my new friends had conjured him up all on our own, but yet, here he was.
I was just about to step off the sidewalk when I heard it, that seductive voice from the night before.
“Becca stop!” The voice commanded, urgent, and from nowhere.
It happened in slow motion, I could see so many details all at once and frozen in time.
Across the street, in the window of Magdalena’s Restaurant, was the reflection of a man, but there was no one there. The face was distorted, fearful and intense, and then the voice came again from unmoving lips.
“Do not move!” He ordered.
I saw it then, the white pickup speeding by. The sunlight glared off the bumper as it passed; close enough that I could feel the hot air of the exhaust. It was loud and solid as it went by—exactly where I would have crossed.
I froze, poised on the edge of the curb. I looked around me, waiting to see if anyone else had heard the voice. People were just going on about their daily routine as if they were unaware of how close I came to being annihilated.
Back across the street, the phantom was still in the window, staring at me with his entrancing blue eyes. I stood there gasping, unable to move, unable to do anything but look at him.
It was easier to see the vivid details of him in the light of day. He seemed tall, lean almost. His hair was a strange coppery brown and fell in reluctant strands over his intense blue eyes. He was younger than I first thought; making me think he must have only been a few years older than me when he died.
I shuddered at the thought and focused on the spirit’s eyes as the image started to fade. That voice from nowhere came again, teasing my ears and washing over me like a caress.
“My beloved,” It said and was gone.
I felt a scream pushing against the walls of my throat and my knees began to tremble. I told myself again that I was not afraid of him and walked the rest of the way to school in a daze.
In keeping with the spirit of the treacherous start, the day that followed was uneasy, embarrassing, and by the last bell eventful.
Its ridiculous routine and mundane classes kept getting in the way of my thoughts. While I knew what to expect from my day, I was still too new to not pay attention in my classes and what was going on around me.
Walking down the hall, a few more people said hello to me than the day before, but none of them actually went through the trouble of introducing themselves. I guess they figured after two days in the small school, I should know everyone’s name. I shook my head, some other day I would insult them by asking who they were.
English class was torture with Ally chattering away. I couldn’t concentrate long enough to put two cohesive thoughts together and that made it all too easy for the memory of that ghostly spirit to come rushing back.
While the teacher was going on and on about iambic pentameter and the thematic elements of Hamlet, I was remembering the handsome face in the shadows and the melodic voice.
I let my mind wander, giving myself over to it. I saw the man’s hands, slender but strong in the moonlight. My memory traveled up his forearms, the tendons and muscles appearing close under the phantom skin. I saw his shoulders, broad beneath the course fabric of his shirt. I willed myself to move up to his bare neck, browned by the sun. Almost there now, my memory traveled up to his face, so luminous and perfect, all the way up to the shimmering blue eyes.
I awoke with a start, slamming my hands down onto my desk. I hadn’t realized I had even dozed off and now everyone turned in their seats to look back at me, some of them smiling in amusement. Ally questioned me with her eyes, but I just shook my head so she would turn back around.
Wanting to sink into the floor, I apologized to Mrs. Temple and tried to focus and stay awake for the rest of the class. I looked down at my English book and fought the embarrassed tears welling up in my eyes.
Lunch should have been a relief, but it was no better.
I picked at my food, not really hungry and not really listening to my friends as they talked.
I should be like Billie and Ally, talking about boys, clothes, and other things that don’t matter. That should be what was on my mind, not the things that went bump in the night.
Ally waved her hand in front of my face.
“Becca, are you okay?” She asked.
I shifted in my chair, embarrassed I was caught daydreaming again.
“I’m fine,” I whispered.
Billie crunched her potato chips loudly, “You sure? You look kind of sick.”
“I’m just tired,” I explained. “I didn’t really sleep good last night.”
“More bad dreams?” Ally asked with a teasing smile.
I lowered my eyes to the table, “Something like that.”
I excused myself from lunch early, needing some peace and quiet before I had to pretend to be paying attention.
The door to my next class was unlocked, so I slipped in for some peace and quiet. According to the clock, I had another ten minutes before class started. I folded my arms on my desk and let my head sink down. Maybe if I sneaked in a quick nap, I’d be able to concentrate better for the second half of the day.
It wasn’t a deep sleep because I was still aware of the voices traveling up and down the hall. Still, it felt good to close my eyes and just drift.
I heard lockers slam outside the door and a pair of giggling girls walked by, but for the most part it was quiet.
My mind cleared a little as I rested there. The groggy sensation lifted enough that I wasn’t frustrated when I heard someone else come in the room; I just assumed it was getting close to time for the class to start. I still didn’t open my eyes.
“Are you okay?” A velvety voice asked in a hushed whisper.
“Yes,” I said, still not opening my eyes.
The velvety voice moved closer, “We haven’t had a chance to really talk that much yet.”
Who was this idiot that would not shut up and let me rest?
I opened my eyes and sat up with a start. Jonah Ericson sat across from me smiling with very even, very white teeth. I could only sit the
“So you said your name is Becca,” he said with that easy smile. “Why aren’t you a Beckie or a full-fledged Rebecca?”
The sound of my name on his lips made my stomach flutter.
“I don’t know,” I stammered. “I’ve just always been a Becca.”
Another flash of brilliant white teeth, “I like it. It’s unusual.”
I shrugged my shoulders and dropped my eyes. I didn’t want to be unusual.
“So how are you liking Corydon?” He asked.
I looked up at him, knowing I should say something, but not sure how to make my mouth work. He was just too perfect to be talking to the likes of me.
“What do you mean?” I finally asked.
That perfect smile grew even wider, “It’s a simple enough question. Do you like Corydon so far?”
I dropped my eyes again; maybe it would be easier to speak if I didn’t look directly at him.
“Fine I guess,” I mumbled.
“Only fine?” He teased.
“All that I’ve done so far is go to school,” I confessed.
“That doesn’t sound like much fun.”
I sighed, “Nothing about this move has been fun.”
Jonah nodded, “So I take it your Mom and Dad didn’t ask your opinion before moving here.”
“My Mom is dead,” I said much harsher than I meant to. “My Dad grew up here and it’s always been his dream for some reason to come back.”
Thankfully, he ignored my rudeness. He only smiled again and nodded, “I take it you don’t see much charm to it and just went along with the idea?”
“I guess so,” I said with a nervous smile.
Jonah laughed, showing even more teeth. “It’ll get better, I promise.”
I stole a quick glance up at him and then quickly back down to my hands. He was just too handsome this close up. He made it hard to concentrate.
“Why do you say that?” I asked, sure that there was nothing that could make the situation better.
“Well, you need to see more of Corydon than just the school. You should come to the quarry Saturday.”
“The quarry?”
“The rock quarry,” He explained. “All of us go for a swim up there the last weekend in August. Sort of like our last hurrah of the summer. I’m sure someone will tell you about it.”
I was too stunned to speak. He was asking me to be at the same place he was going to be. Why did that seem like such a big thing to me?
“So what part of Corydon did you move to?” He asked. It seemed he was bound and determined to keep me talking.
I tried not to get distracted by his looks again, but I couldn’t help but to sneak a peek and then I had to struggle to remember what he even asked.
“Um, we moved into one of the houses on Capitol Avenue.”
“Wow,” He said with another brilliant smile. He leaned a little closer, “So have you seen any ghosts yet?”
My heart skipped a beat in my chest. Oh my God! I looked away quickly, “What do you mean?”
Jonah shrugged, “Nothing, forget about it. So, the quarry, will you think about it?”
I nodded my agreement just as Mr. Abramson called the class to order. I forced myself to at least try to pay attention. I couldn’t believe Jonah Ericson spoke to me again and the only impression I made on him was “unusual”.
Jonah was facing the front and seemed attentive to whatever it was that the teacher was saying. He was perfectly at ease in his body, leaning back in his chair. I fought the urge to lean close enough to smell his hair.
What was wrong with me? I was a basket case and he had probably already forgotten out brief conversation. I had to pull it together.
On top of all the other thoughts bouncing around in my head like if I believed in ghosts and what that thing was in my room, now I had to add a failed conversation with the perfect Jonah Ericson to the list.
When the bell rang, I was on my feet and out the door before I could make a bigger fool of myself. I didn’t even look at Jonah Ericson on my way out. I didn’t want to take the chance of making myself look any worse.
Dad was gone when I got home from school. I was sort of relieved to be alone. Ally and Billie both promised to call me later, but for now I could relax and it was nice to not have to try so hard to be normal.
I tossed my books onto the entry table and went into the living room. I didn’t really know what to do with myself. I was thinking way too much about too many things all at once. I was still trying to make sense of the spirit in my room, the spirit appearing in the window, and Jonah Ericson. I tried watching television to take my mind off it all, but I ended up staring up at the screen, but not really seeing it.
I didn’t know how much time passed. One minute I was watching a baby’s paternity test results being announced on a talk show and the next thing I knew some infomercial guy was overly excited about car wax.
I had to get out of the house. I could feel it closing in around me, waiting for some unknown event to take place. I grabbed my copy of Hamlet and headed out to the backyard.
Outside in the large, square yard, I sat down under the closest oak tree, and leaned back against the trunk. Stretching out my legs and crossing them at the ankles, I thumbed through the pages of my book even though I had no intension of reading it.
It was miserable hot. The air was still and unmoving. I was shielded from the sidewalk and road, making me invisible to the rest of the world. The only things that seemed aware of my presence were the birds and even they were growing quiet as the afternoon wore on.
From where I was sitting, I could look out over the tangled rose garden. I knew immediately I chose the wrong place to relax. Suddenly all I could think of was the vision of that other me holding the pruners.
I closed my eyes, wanting to forget about the rose garden, the house, and the mysterious spirit that seemed to haunt the place. I’m not going to think about it, I told myself.
A slight breeze came and blew through my hair, carrying with it the sound of rustling leaves that echoes my name.
Becca…Becca…They called.
I refused to open my eyes, even as the whispered echoes grew louder and more rapid. It was overpowering, the faint voices coming in waves, getting louder and louder. It was reaching a frenzy when one voice overcame the others.
“Becca?” Dad called out the kitchen door, summoning me in for dinner.
I opened my eyes and sat up, a little shocked to see the light starting to fade. I jumped up, suddenly anxious, with an overwhelming sensation I was not alone. I didn’t see anything, but I had the distinct feeling that I was being watched from the shadows.
I glanced around one last time and went inside.
Our meal was a lively one with Dad going over his plans for the house. He was so engrossed that I just had to nod or smile at the appropriate places and he thought I was participating.
He was so busy talking; he had barely touched his plate when I asked to be excused.
“You don’t want any dessert?” Dad asked, stunned I would pass up sweets. “I got a chocolate cake at the store.”
“No thanks,” I said. “I’m just going to go up and do my homework.”
“Well, don’t stay up too late,” Dad warned. “You’re looking tired.”
I agreed. He was thumbing through his notebook of ideas before I even got out of the room and I was sure he forgot all about me before I even got to the top of the stairs.
Once inside my room, I tried to do my homework, but I couldn’t focus. Much like it was with the television earlier; I was looking at the books, but not really seeing them.
It was a relief when Billie called my cell phone.
“Hey whatcha doing?” She asked.
“Just homework. Nothing exciting.”
“Well, I’ll just tell you this real fast,” Billie insisted. “I wanted to let you know what was going on this weekend.”
“The quarry?”
“Who told you?” She asked, seeming offended someone beat her to it.
I decided it would be better to lie. “A few people have mentioned it to me.”
“Did they mention that everyone goes?”
“Yes. It’s some sort of tradition, right?”
Billie laughed, “None of us really care about that part, but yeah, it’s become sort of a tradition.”
“Sounds great,” I said sarcastically.
“It is,” she said. “Are you in?”
I hesitated, not relishing the idea of parading around in a bathing suit. Then I remembered that Jonah Ericson went out of his way to tell me about it. How could I not go?
“Sure,” I said before I could change my mind.
Billie promised we would talk about it at school tomorrow and hung up. I was just about to give up on my homework and go to bed when a slight breeze came and fluttered the pages of my books.
Where did that come from? I turned to look at my windows, both were latched tight. I waited a moment to see if anything else would happen, but when the air remained still and nothing happened or appeared, I went on to bed.
I slipped back into dreams that night. My shadow-self walked down the staircase. Rich moonlight lit the walls as I floated down the entryway.
I could feel the caress of fine linen and lace over my body and the weight of my hair down my back. My hand on the banister was pale and glowing white in the light of the moon. I felt exactly the same, but still so very different.
All of our furniture was gone, and in its place were strange pieces that I knew were antique, but that looked oddly new. It made no sense, but that other me did not seem surprised.
At the foot of the staircase stood the man that I saw in the reflection of the restaurant window. He looked up at me with a slight smile on his sensual lips, taking my hand once I was within his reach.
“My beloved,” he whispered. “I have been waiting for you.”
The man’s face shattered then into hundreds of pieces of blue light, each cutting threw me. I could taste the blood; I could see it smeared on the wall.
“Yes, my beloved,” came the invisible voice. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
I bolted upright in my bed, gasping for air and still feeling his touch on my hand. I could feel him watching me. I could feel him waiting for me.