Waysider (The Voyants Book 1)

Chapter 15

Her first instinct was to rush back to House Wayside.

Just as Cass turned, she checked herself. Shit. No. Her next class was starting any minute, and she was turning over a new leaf here. No more skipping or ditching. Michael and the picture would have to wait. And Cal was still here, glaring at her while he waited for a response.

Cass scowled back. Her astonishment faded and her frustration rushed back. Part of her knew she was being a hypocrite, since Cal wasn’t the only one keeping secrets. But he hadn’t just had a terrifying encounter with a revenant, and Cass wasn’t feeling rational right now. Not to mention she needed Cal to get lost so he wouldn’t witness what she was about to do next. The irony of this wasn’t lost on her, since his comings and goings were the reason for this rift between them.

“I’m going to class. Unless you want to come and risk exposing yourself, then we’ll have to finish this delightful conversation later,” Cass bit out.

Her brother stood there for another moment, his jaw flexing. His jacket creaked as he abruptly turned around and went back the way they’d come, stalking down the stairs in quiet fury, his long legs taking them two at a time. Seconds later, Cal walked through the door and vanished from sight.

Cass waited until it was clear he wasn’t going to come back.

Then she took the frame off the wall, removed the wooden back piece, and took the photo out. After that, Cass spun on her heel and launched in the direction Cal had just gone, reaching up with her free hand to muss her bangs.

Cass continued her search for Fastly Hall. She crossed a busy courtyard. She could feel the curious stares that followed her, but today she didn’t just ignore them—she barely noticed. Her mind spun as she walked. Cass had first seen Michael back in New York, before she even knew Else Bellows existed. Had he heard her name mentioned after her NDE, by Headmistress Crane or some other staff member? But why would he come looking for her?

She’d always assumed Michael died somewhere in that hospital, explaining how he was in her room when she woke up. This latest revelation blew that theory right out of the water. Michael was tied to the school. Could their connection really just be coincidence?

All Cass had was questions, and exactly zero answers. And for the first time since leaving that dim hospital room, she actually cared.

Answers would have to wait, though. Cass also cared about school. Skipping class on her first day wouldn’t exactly be starting on a good foot.

Still struggling against the part of her that usually won—the part that did stupid shit without thinking about the consequences, or who her choices might affect—Cass kept going in the opposite direction of Wayside. Minutes later, she finally found Fastly Hall and hurried inside, hiding the picture against her side.

When Cass reached the room, her eyebrows shot up. Class clearly hadn’t started yet, which meant she wasn’t late. Cass let out a pent-up breath of relief and moved to sit near the vast, sun-brightened windows. She tried not to dread the next hour. That reckless, urgent feeling was back. It wasn’t like it used to be, sparking beneath her skin with painful intensity, but it was back. Which meant Cass had her work cut out for her if she really wanted to do well here.

Once she’d settled in the chair, Cass lifted her gaze toward a figure at the front, expecting to see their professor. Instead, she saw Teddy Crane. She blinked in surprise.

Finch had mentioned he was a TA for this class, Cass remembered suddenly. She wasn’t sure why she found the sight of him so startling. Teddy sat in a chair off to the left, his golden head bent, full lips pursed in concentration. Sunlight shone around him and dust motes glittered as they moved past, making Teddy look like something that didn’t quite belong in this world. The thought sent a breath of unease through Cass, and also a whisper of intrigue.

As if he heard the thought, Teddy looked up from the file he’d been reading. Cass tensed, worried she’d been caught staring. But Teddy’s gaze went to the clock hanging on the back wall. His expression shifted as he seemed to reach a decision. Teddy pushed his chair back, stood, and circled the desk. He leaned the heels of his hands against the edge, his arms loose, legs crossed at the ankles. At that moment, it seemed more believable that Teddy Crane was their teacher rather than the perfect, cliché jock he actually was. He stood there as if he’d done it a thousand times before, completely at ease.

“Welcome to Basics of Untethering,” Teddy said, scanning the faces in the room. “I’m sure Professor Horn is just running late. Sit tight and feel free to get to know each other.”

Teddy’s eyes flicked toward Cass, finally noticing her. While voices rose all around them, the other students continuing their conversations, he nodded. Cass felt that whisper inside her again. She gave Teddy a brief, uncertain wave back before firmly fixing her gaze on the textbook, pretending to be absorbed in opening it to the right page.

As Teddy predicted, Professor Horn arrived seconds later. Their professor was a middle-aged man with sunken cheeks and tufts of gray hair around his ears. His suit hung off his small frame, and there was a gold pin on his lapel in the shape of a rose. Silver-framed spectacles framed his wide eyes. He touched the spectacles with his fingers, as if to push them up, but they were already high on the bridge of his nose. He ended up just pressing the glasses against his eyes.

Cass would soon learn this was a nervous habit. Within minutes, Professor Horn had done it several more times. He touched his glasses and told them he was from England, that he’d come to America after a renowned career as a voyant. Cass found this difficult to believe—the man seemed like he’d be afraid of his own shadow.

“It was an honor to receive an invitation to the prestigious Else Bellows Institute, and I look forward to teaching you this course,” Professor Horn concluded. He wiped his palms on his pants and turned away, moving around the edge of the desk. “Please open your books to the first chapter. We begin with a brief history lesson, back to the first voyant who successfully untethered a revenant.”

As Cass struggled to pay attention to the lecture, her heel tapped. She thought about Michael, and wondered how he’d react to the picture. Focus, she told herself, over and over. Maybe the image would trigger one of Michael’s memories, like the moment he’d remembered his name. Focus. Cass picked up her pencil and forced herself to take notes, which wasn’t something she’d done in a long, long time.

To Cass’s surprise, it did help. She managed to put Michael from her mind long enough to learn about Clarence Phillips, the first voyant with documented proof that he’d helped a revenant find peace.

It felt like a small eternity had passed by the time the bell clanged again. Cass was the first one out the door. She fought the instinct to glance in Teddy’s direction, but from the corner of her eye, just for a moment, she swore she saw his face turn toward her. Her senses prickled in that way they did when someone else was watching.

She didn’t look back to see if she was right.

Cass tucked the photo into her bag as she crossed campus, avoiding eye contact with anyone nearby—she wasn’t in the mood for small talk. She wanted answers, and only Michael could give them to her. Cass was so focused that she almost didn’t see Sinister Gray sitting beneath a tree, his dark head bent over a book. Almost. But she did notice him, and for a brief moment, Cass faltered.

They hadn’t actually been introduced, or exchanged words, or had any interactions beyond that nod of acknowledgement in the dining hall. Cass had no reason to approach Sinister. No explanation for the urge she had to cross the distance between them and watch those cool eyes lift from the book and see her. All she knew was that she felt the same stirring for Sinister that she’d just felt for Teddy Crane—interest.

Which was exactly why Cass fixed her eyes firmly elsewhere and kept going, not even allowing herself to wonder if she felt that telltale prickle again.

A few minutes later, House Wayside came into view. The sight of it made something inside Cass loosen. As she opened the door, a flood of warmth and sound greeted her. The air smelled like pizza, which Cass spotted when she passed the dining room. Candice and Tammy sat at the table, the redhead eating a slice of pepperoni pizza as she read from a textbook. Tammy seemed to be working on a device of some sort, and her small, birdlike hands moved a screwdriver in a circular motion. It made a clicking sound and added to the noise pouring in from across the hall.

The opposite doorway led into the living room, where a Jane Fonda workout video played on the TV. Finch exercised in front of it, wearing leg warmers and a headband drenched in sweat. More sweat gleamed on her chest and darkened her clothes. She beamed at the sight of Cass, pausing her movements to give a cheery wave. “Hi! How was the rest of the day?”

Cass stopped, struggling to hide her impatience. All she wanted to do was rush upstairs and find Michael. But Finch was nice, the sort of person who would be good for her. Like Teresa. Cass forced herself to stay where she was and consider Finch’s question. “It was… interesting,” she said eventually.

Finch’s forehead wrinkled. “Is that a good thing?”

A bitter laugh caught in Cass’s throat. “Not in my experience, no,” she said. “Hey, I’ll talk to you later, okay? There’s something I need to do. I’ll be upstairs.”

“Homework already, huh?” Finch said sympathetically. “Well, if you need any help, I’m your girl.”

“Thanks.” Cass offered her a brief, tight smile. Then she turned and kept going toward the stairs, eager to see Michael’s reaction to her discovery.

Cass got halfway down the hall before the earthquake hit.

“Get under the doorways!” she heard one of her roommates shout. Cass wasn’t sure who, but she obeyed anyway, because what the fuck did she know about earthquakes? She darted over to the closest doorway and smashed her spine against the wide frame, clutching at it with sweaty hands. Something shattered in another room. As Cass looked around with wild eyes, she saw Candice and Tammy cowering beneath the dining room table. They looked just as terrified as she was, which definitely didn’t help. Cass held onto the wall even tighter, and as the house continued to shake, she wondered where Cal was.

Eventually, the world went still again.

The whole thing had only lasted a few seconds, but Cass didn’t move. Her mind was full of images from the chapel. A cracked wall. Bare, dirty feet. Angry nail marks on a pale throat.

“Cass? Are you okay?”

She jumped at the sound of Finch’s voice, which sounded like it had come from far away. Blinking, Cass realized that the other girl was standing above her. When had she sat down? Cass blinked again and registered that Finch’s hand was in front of her face. She took it without thinking, and Finch pulled, her grip surprisingly strong. Cass stood and let go, clearing her throat. She darted a glance toward Justin, who was coming down the stairs toward them. Tammy and Candice had emerged from the dining room table. “Thanks,” Cass muttered.

Before Finch could say anything, the bathroom door flew open.

Bradley must’ve been in the shower during the earthquake. He ran out wearing a towel, just like the last time Cass had seen him, shouting as he went, “Hey, is everyone—”

He drew up short at the sight of the others, but then his heel slipped on the trail of water he’d created. As he fell, Bradley let out the girliest shriek Cass had ever heard. He smacked his face against the opposite wall so hard that he bounced right off it again, crashing to the floor in a heap of sharp elbows and bony knees. Before any of them could move, Bradley swung upright. His towel had come off at some point, Cass noted. Bradley followed her gaze and looked down at himself. His head snapped back up, mouth opened into a perfect O. His brown eyes were wide with horror.

Justin sighed. “Come on, man. Again?”

A noise came from Finch, low and slightly muffled. Cass darted a glance at her. The other girl was pursing her lips together so hard the skin around them turned white, but she couldn’t quite control the corners, and they twitched over and over as she fought to contain a laugh. Next to Finch, Candice’s hand had risen to her mouth, and her fingers splayed to hide the smile there. Even Justin and Tammy were struggling to remain stoic.

To everyone’s surprise, it was Cass that broke.

A sound popped out of her—strangled, choking laughter. Cass couldn’t help it. Hearing her, Finch’s control slipped a moment later. Both of them bent over and howled. As her ribs began to ache with pain, Cass was dimly aware of the others losing it, too.

Bradley looked at each of them, one by one, his brows furrowed. A tuft of damp hair stuck up at the back of his head, which made him look even more indignant, somehow. Suddenly his face split, and he grinned from one big ear to the other. Cass and Finch finally began to regain control of themselves while Justin reached a hand down. The younger boy took it, accepting help to his feet. Bradley clutched the towel against his legs as he rose, then quickly secured it once he was standing.

“Can you believe that earthquake?” he squeaked.

“Radical,” Justin agreed.

Tammy was frowning. She held the machine she had been working on before shit hit the fan, and the top of her dark head gleamed as she looked down. “The EMP increased during the seismic activity,” she said.

They all looked at each other, and Cass saw her own uncertainty reflected in their expressions. What did that mean? Was the revenant from the chapel still causing them?

Apparently unbothered by any of it, Justin went over to the table. His voice floated back to them. “Hey, did the pizza make it?”

The others moved to follow. Cass started to, but then she remembered what she’d been on her way to do when the earthquake hit. Michael. Cass hesitated, looking at her roommates. Everyone had clustered in the dining room, chatting amicably as they dug into the pizza that had, in fact, survived. Even Candice was joining in—she wrote something on the chalkboard around her neck, and when she showed it to the others, they laughed.

After another moment, Cass turned away, unable to resist the call of the photograph still tucked away in her backpack. She found her bag on the floor and grabbed it, then rushed up the stairs. She heard Finch say her name, but this time, Cass didn’t look back.

Her room was empty when the door creaked open. For once, she was relieved that Cal was gone. Besides the fact Cass still hadn’t told him about their other roommate, Michael never seemed to be around when her brother was. She pulled the photograph out of her backpack and walked into the middle of the room, looking around.

“Michael?” Cass said. It felt strange to say his name out loud. Almost… intimate, somehow. Cass didn’t like it. And it hadn’t worked, anyway, since there was still no sign of him. She turned in a circle, searching the air for any shift or glimmer. Impatience sliced through her and she raised her voice to say, “Hey, Ghostie!”

“I’m here.”

Cass didn’t make a sound as she spun, but her heart jolted in her chest. Michael stood in the same place as before, his hands shoved in his pockets, the soft ends of his hair awash in dying sunlight. “Have you been here the entire time?” Cass demanded.

Michael’s dark eyes revealed nothing, and his voice was soft as he answered, “No. I’ve been occupying one of the empty rooms. I felt you calling.”

“You felt it?” Cass echoed. She didn’t like the sound of that. Cass shook her head and let out a short puff of breath. “Never mind. I found something today. You were a student here.”

She held the picture out to him, her pulse rapid with anticipation. Michael stared at it with an inscrutable expression, his brown eyes thoughtful, full lips pursed. Seconds ticked past, thick with his silence and Cass’s urgency.

“Yes,” the revenant murmured finally. “Yes, that’s very strange.”

That was it? Dissatisfied, Cass jabbed the image with her finger. “Does seeing this spark anything? Any more memories?” she pressed.

He quirked a dark brow at her. “Trying to get rid of me, Miss Ryan? Is my company so unbearable?”

“I don’t even know you,” Cass countered. The sparks in her veins had dimmed now, her old impulsivity retreating to make way for the anxiety that constantly breathed down her neck these days. Had Cass royally fucked up by bringing this to Michael? She was supposed to ignore him, not try to figure out more about him.

Cass swore under her breath and tossed the picture onto the bed—she’d put it back later. Right now, she had to get out of here. Cass grabbed her backpack from the floor and dumped all the contents in a pile beside the picture. A crumpled piece of paper fell last, and Cass snatched it up, her eyes scanning the words again. She rushed around the room and started shoving things into the empty bag. Flashlight. Lockpicks. Keys.

Cass threw the backpack over her shoulder and turned, crossing the room in a silent rush.

“Where are you going?” Michael called after her. His voice should’ve bounced off the walls. The fact it didn’t was only a reminder to Cass that he was dead.

“On a scavenger hunt” was all she said.

The event didn’t actually start for another couple of hours, but Cass wanted to be in a ghost-free zone for a while. That left out the chapel, she concluded with a suppressed shudder. Where else could she go?

A moment after she had the thought, Cass got an idea. This was a school. Every school had a library, right? She didn’t remember seeing it on the map, but then, she hadn’t been looking. Cass didn’t have the attention span for reading and she found it incredibly dull. Cal said a good book could feel like watching a movie in your head; she thought it was like watching paint peel.

Luckily, there were helpful arrows and signs all over campus, and Cass found the library within minutes. This building looked older than the others, its walls made of brick, like House Wayside. Cass had come to learn that the older the place, the more likely there was to be something… lingering there. But she ignored the flutter in her stomach and went determinedly up the path. She pulled at one of the heavy doors. A rush of cool air greeted her, laden with the scent of old books.

To Cass’s relief, there was no one else here. Even the front desk was unmanned. She hurried past it and went toward the tall shelves on the other side of the room, instinctively seeking out a place where she wouldn’t be spotted if someone did come. Halfway down the aisle, a velvet rope hung across the space.

RESTRICTED, a sign read in capital letters. Cass paused in front of it, scanning the shadowed shelves beyond the rope. That feeling stirred inside her again—the restlessness. The burning need to throw her life into chaos and make dangerous choices.

Standing there, her hands clenched into fists, Cass asked herself the question she always asked when she was about to do something stupid. What would Cal do?

She didn’t need to think about it. Cal would do the right thing, as he always did. Because her brother was good, and normal, and everything she wasn’t.

Cass stepped over the velvet rope and walked past the rows of bookshelves. As she slipped into a pocket of darkness, she remembered what she’d said to Teddy. I swore things would be different here.

It would be, Cass insisted to herself, reading the spines of the books in front of her. She couldn’t just quit cold turkey, though. Real change happened gradually, didn’t it? A title caught her interest, and Cass pulled it out, opening the book to the middle. The letters against her fingertips read, Documentation No. 96. It was so vague that she knew it had to actually be hiding something interesting.

A picture had been folded and taped inside. The rings on Cass’s fingers glinted as she pulled it out. There was something written on the back, she noted, quickly scanning the words.

Artie Salmon, 1902.

Cass opened the yellowed piece of paper. She expected an image of a man, wearing a suit, maybe, staring into the camera with a solemn expression. When she registered what she was seeing, Cass almost dropped it. Her stomach rolled. She told herself to fold the picture, tuck it back into the book where she’d found it, but she couldn’t look away. Her breathing was faint and uneven.

Artie Salmon had been a boy when he died. He was slumped against a wall, his eyes wide and glassy, fixed on something in front of him. He was completely naked, revealing that he was little more than a skeleton—his cheeks were so gaunt that it looked like there were holes in his face. His starved, sharp-edged body was riddled with other dark spots, lines of liquid pouring out of them. Blood.

He’d been shot at least twenty times.

Cass wanted to know what had happened to him. She sat down in the middle of the aisle and read several chapters. With every page, her blood ran colder and colder. There was nothing further about Artie Salmon, but she read newspaper clippings about entire families that had been found dead, along with their autopsy reports. Tidy, typed sentences that described bodies ripped apart by teeth and claws. Matter-of-fact paragraphs that reviewed how each subject had been killed. Cass was numb with disbelief.

Demons had done this? These were the things Shadowrippers hunted?

Toward the end of the terrible book, there was another picture. As Cass unfurled it, her fingers were trembling. The image was just of a girl. She wore a white nightgown, and she was laying on her back. It would almost seem like she were just looking at the stars, were it not for one detail.

Her eyes were gone.

A thunk made Cass jump. Her head jerked up from the book, and she searched the shadows and shelves again. But she was still alone. Cass let out a breath, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. A bird must’ve hit one of the big windows, or maybe it was just some mouth breather with a ball.

“Shit,” she muttered. Enough time had passed that she knew the scavenger hunt would be starting soon, if it hadn’t already. Closing the book harder than necessary, Cass stood and returned it to the shelf, then pulled her hand away as soon as possible. She hurried back down the aisle and raised her gaze toward the double doors on the other side of the room, eager to be away from the quiet darkness behind her. Away from all the horror it contained, forever trapped on those pages like ghosts.

Halfway there, a hand shot out between the bookcases like a striking snake.

Before Cass could scream, it seized her arm and yanked her into the darkness.

The library was their place.

She waited for him, splaying her fingers along the edge of a shelf as she peered through the bookcases, watching the entrance. Moonlight shone through the windows near the doors, but there were none on this side of the room, casting it into complete darkness. Her heartbeat was the only sound she could hear, and it pounded in Cass’s ears, perfectly in time with the pulse between her legs. A pulse that leaped when she heard the door whisper open.

But she wasn’t afraid. She was… impatient.

Cass watched a figure slip down the aisle between the study tables. Even with the moonlight, it was too dim to see his face. But he was tall and broad-shouldered, his outline vanishing and reappearing as he moved through the shadows. Recognition made Cass’s breath hitch. A moment later, the scent of his cologne reached her, and heat stirred in her stomach.

“Found you,” a deep voice said in Cass’s ear, lips tickling her tender skin. She turned.

“You’re late,” she said just before a mouth came down on hers.

Cass kissed him back instantly, her tongue meeting his hungrily. Fingers curved around her ass and yanked her close. He was rough with her, like he always was. But she liked it—he was so different from the others she’d been with. When he pushed Cass against the bookshelves and sucked on her neck, her eyes slid shut, and she tipped her head back. She buried her fingers in his thick hair.

“God, I love you,” she whispered.

The tall figure went still. Cass went still, too, and stopped breathing. She hadn’t meant to say that. Mortification made her cheeks go hot. Did he think she was pathetic now? Would he leave?

Just as she was about to say something, he bent and kissed her so hard Cass knew she would have bruises tomorrow. She was so relieved that she didn’t care. Nothing else mattered but him. Reaching down, he hiked her leg up and held it against his hip. Cass reached out and grabbed the shelves on either side of her for balance, then swung her other leg around him. One of his arms shifted, and she heard the sound of a zipper.

Suddenly, the fire inside her dimmed.

No. Cass couldn’t say the word out loud. Because she wasn’t in control here, she realized. These were not her thoughts. The excitement coursing through her veins wasn’t hers, either. She’d been in the library to get away from Michael, not meet someone. What was this? What was happening?

Panic blazed through her. It was a ghost. Cass knew that now, and the realization made her skin crawl. Or it would, if her body wasn’t being worn by someone else like a skin suit.

Get out of my head! Cass tried to scream.

But even though she still couldn’t speak, someone seemed to hear her. Cass felt a sharp pain in her skull, and she gasped, bending over. She forced herself to jerk upright, terrified of taking her eyes off whatever was in here with her. She scanned the shelves wildly, edging along the one behind her. Her thoughts were a tangle of paranoia and horror.

The male figure was gone. Nothing leaped out from the darkness. The air was utterly still, and all Cass could hear was her heart again, its beat thunderous and erratic.

That didn’t mean she was alone, though.

Cass couldn’t take it anymore. She decided to risk it, and bolted from the shadows. A small whimper of terror escaped her as she ran for the exit. Cass reached the door, shoved it open, and rushed outside. She expected it to slam shut behind her, echoing across campus like a clap of thunder.

Instead, Cass heard the door close with a soft sound. As if something were whispering to her.

Found you.