Waysider (The Voyants Book 1)

Chapter 25

Hands wrapped around Cass’s throat.

Her eyes shot open, and she snapped back to consciousness in a burst of confusion and terror. A man’s outline filled Cass’s vision, his back to the faint light that streamed through the cracked door. But why was the door so small?

Cass barely had a chance to realize that she wasn’t in her bedroom before those merciless fingers tightened. She gurgled and slapped at her assailant’s wrists, violently wrenching her body in a futile attempt to get him off. But it was as if he were made of iron. Within a minute, Cass felt that telltale sensation of time slowing down.

Devastation tore through her. No! She didn’t want to die. She wanted to live, damn it. It wasn’t fair! A sob caught in her chest, and a moment later, the world began to darken. Cass felt herself slipping away. The pain and the fear floated away, too.

“You made me do this,” she heard the man whisper.

Then Cass flew upright in her bed, letting out a wild gasp.

The bedsheets were damp with sweat as she searched every shadowed corner of her room at House Wayside, her heart working overtime. The door was back to its normal size. The hands around her throat were gone. Cass reached up, trembling, and she found her skin hot to the touch. It hurt as if there were bruises forming.

The nightmare hadn’t completely faded when Cass saw a male silhouette sitting at her desk.

A terrified jolt vibrated through her body—she knew it wasn’t Cal. But then the intruder shifted. Moonlight fell across Michael’s face, and the scream rising in Cass’s throat abruptly faded.

“Your dreams have gotten worse,” he murmured. His eyes were on her throat. “Does that happen every time?”

“No.” Cass didn’t know what else to say. How did he know the nightmares were escalating? In the next breath, she answered her own question. Michael had probably seen her have a nightmare during her time at the hospital. They’d been really bad after she lost Cal.

Speaking of her brother, where was he? Cass looked around again, confirming that Cal was nowhere in sight. If Michael was here, it could only mean that her brother wasn’t in the house. Had he been leaving all this time, and Cass just never noticed because he waited until she was asleep?

Realizing that her shirt was drenched in sweat, too, Cass pulled it away from her chest. She glanced at Michael before she looked back down again and muttered, “Haven’t seen you in a while. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” His voice was soft.

“It’s what I should want,” Cass said without thinking.

Michael hadn’t moved, but in that moment, Cass swore he went still. “You don’t?”

It felt like they’d ventured into dangerous territory. Cass’s heart did something strange, and she reached up to muss her bangs, clearing her throat. She tried to think of something else they could talk about. She hadn’t seen him since the Haunting, so—wait. The Haunting!

“Oh my god, I’ve been meaning to thank you,” Cass blurted. “I probably wouldn’t be alive right now if you hadn’t shown up the other night.”

Michael gave her a small, polite smile. “You’re welcome.”

Cass was cooling off now. The nightmare felt distant, like a bad memory. Cass sighed and released her T-shirt, then let her hands fall to her lap. “Why were you there?” she asked.

But Michael had noticed the damp marks on her shirt now. He began to stand. “Would you like me to open the window?”

“No, don’t worry about it.” Cass waved him off. “I’m getting used to the dreams.”

She tried to sound nonchalant, but something in her voice gave her away. Michael didn’t call her out. He resettled on the chair and fell silent, probably giving her a chance to talk about it, if she wanted to. Cass thought about those final moments of the death she’d just experienced. Karen Watkins had fought back. She had wanted to live. But someone took that from her, just like Cass’s life had been taken, too. And Cal’s.

Feeling Michael’s eyes on her, Cass shook herself. She looked across the room at him and wondered how long he’d been sitting there. This led to all the other questions she had about him. There was no point in asking, since Michael knew as much as she did. Less, since she still hadn’t told him what she’d learned from Professor Harkens.

There was one question she could try, at least. A hint of frustration showed in Cass’s voice as she asked, “Why are you here?”

Michael hesitated. As the silence stretched, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Cass had sat in that chair a hundred times; she knew it should’ve creaked at the movement. It was a stark reminder, as if she needed one, that Michael wasn’t part of her world. No matter how alive he seemed.

He still hadn’t answered her. Cass was about to ask again when Michael admitted, “I felt your fear.”

It felt like Cass’s heart stopped. Wait. He could feel her fear? That had happened with Cal once, but she hadn’t given it much thought. She’d chalked it up to the twin connection. What did it mean that Michael could sense her, too? Suddenly Cass remembered the last time she’d seen him, when he’d randomly shown up at the mansion.

“Is that why you came to the Haunting?” she breathed.

He nodded. This revelation brought on a slew of brand-new questions, and Cass still didn’t have any answers to the old ones. She fought another wave of frustration and frowned at Michael.

“Look, either there’s something you’re not telling me, or we’re connected for some reason. Something that goes beyond accidentally attaching. I don’t believe in fate, or any of that stupid shit… but then again, I never believed in all of this before, either.” Cass made a vague gesture. “Maybe I’m supposed to help you… move on.”

Michael’s eyes lowered, and his dark brows drew together in thought. “Maybe.”

He didn’t say anything else. Cass waited, expecting him to pull a disappearing act. But Michael stayed where he was, looking all broody and worried. He must’ve driven the girls crazy while he was alive, Cass thought reluctantly. Even in death, he was beautiful. Michael didn’t seem like the heartbreaker type, though. Maybe he’d had a girlfriend.

Cass felt a surge of curiosity. Michael may have forgotten his past, but he was different from the other revenants she had encountered. He’d managed to hold onto his humanity. Cass gave in to the impulse to ask, “What do you even do when you’re not here? How do you pass the time?”

Michael refocused on her. If he thought her question was weird, he didn’t show it. He shrugged and said, “I read, mostly. Walk through the gardens on campus. I can’t go very far from you. It gets… uncomfortable.”

“It does?” Cass frowned, wondering what that meant. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. And he could pick up books? Was that normal for a revenant?

“I have something I need to tell you,” Michael said.

Something in his voice caught her attention. Cass straightened instinctively, and her racing thoughts came to an abrupt halt when she saw the expression on Michael’s face. She searched his gaze. “Okay. I’m listening.”

His lips thinned, as if he were fighting an internal battle. Then he said, “The hospital room wasn’t where we met.”

Cass’s brow lowered. “What do you mean?”

“I followed you there. Because I felt something, just like I did a few minutes ago. Usually I tried to stay away, but that night, I knew you were in danger. I had to come. Then you woke up in the hospital, and for the first time, you could see me. That had never happened before. Nunca.”

Even now, Michael’s voice was tinged with wonder. Cass frowned at him again. Something about the way he said that last part made her heart slowly pick up speed.

“Wait. How long have you been… connected to me?” she demanded. Michael’s gaze lowered a second time, and he didn’t answer. Cass’s voice rose. “How long, Michael?”

A small voice inside her worried about waking someone up, but Cass barely heard it. She stared at Michael and waited for an answer. She would wait as long as it took. Michael’s shoulders tensed as if he knew it. His chest rose and fell in a deep breath. The gesture was so human that Cass felt a faint, unexpected pang of sadness.

Finally, after a small eternity had gone by, Michael lifted his head and looked at her. “I’ve been connected you for as long as I can remember,” he said.

At first, Cass’s mind stalled. She stared at Michael, speechless and numb. For as long as I can remember. For as long as I can remember. The words kept replaying in her brain.

This went back so much further than her NDE, Cass thought, still slow with shock. She had no clue what any of it meant.

Cass raised her gaze back to Michael’s, uncertain when she’d looked down. He hadn’t moved from the desk chair, and Cass studied him. In that moment, he didn’t feel like someone she was connected to.

He felt like someone who had been lying to her for months.

“And you waited until now to tell me this?” Cass asked.

Something in her expression made Michael’s jaw clench, and even in the moonlight, his brown eyes looked black. His accent was thicker as he said, “You had enough to deal with. There were days I wasn’t sure you’d survive, Cass.”

There were days she hadn’t been sure she would, either. The thought softened Cass’s sense of betrayal. She sat there silently, trying to process everything. But it was all too much. Cass moaned and leaned forward. She held her head in her hands, muffling her response. “This is so weird. Okay, what is the first thing you remember, exactly? No, wait. Did you, like, see me in diapers?”

“Only once. I told you—I stayed away, mostly.”

This is so weird, Cass thought again. It felt like there were a dozen emotions ripping into her. Fear was definitely one of them, and some anger, too. He should’ve told her sooner.

In an effort to understand, and attach some reason to the world-shifting revelation he’d just given her, Cass put herself in Michael’s shoes. Would she have handled the situation any differently than he had?

She knew the answer pretty quickly. Cass probably would’ve handled it way, way worse.

As she sat there, something else occurred to her. Cass slowly raised her gaze back to Michael, her heart pounding faster. “That night at the bridge,” she said. “I lost consciousness in the water, I remember that. When I woke up, people kept asking me how I got to shore. Did you… were you the one who…”

Michael shook his head. “I felt your fear, but it all happened so quickly. When I got there a few seconds later, the bridge was empty. I looked over the edge and saw someone dragging you onto the shore.”

Cass’s eyes widened, and her heartbeat was deafening now. “Did you see who it was?”

To her disappointment, Michael shook his head again. “It was too dark, and they left immediately. I stayed with you until an ambulance arrived. It only took a few minutes. Whoever pulled you out must’ve been the one to call for help.”

“Any other secrets I should know about?” Cass was joking, mostly, but there may have been some seriousness in the question.

Michael made a soft, weary sound. “I think that’s it.”

This time, the quiet was less strained. The two of them stayed in their places, Cass on the bed, Michael in the chair. Their shadows stretched over the floorboards as if they were reaching for each other. In an abrupt movement, Cass folded her legs and held them against her body. Her mind latched onto that word—secrets. She remembered that Michael wasn’t the only one withholding information. If she didn’t bring it up now, she would officially be a hypocrite.

“There’s something I need to tell you, too,” Cass said.

Her tone made Michael’s brows furrow again. “What is it?”

Cass’s stomach flipped, but she forged ahead. “I kept that photograph of you, and I showed it to one of my professors. She’s spent her life learning the school’s history. She recognized you.”

From the way his expression shifted, Cass knew Michael understood what she was offering him. He only hesitated for a moment before he said, “Tell me.”

“Your name is Michael de Leon. You were murdered in 1926.” Cass paused, realizing that she didn’t want to say the rest. Michael was looking at her intently, and even though he tried to appear neutral, she could see the hope in his eyes. The hope that, after all these years, he might finally know his story. Cass hated that she was about to take it from him. Despite Michael’s reaction when she’d shown him the picture for the first time, he did want answers.

“By who?” Michael asked. She’d been quiet too long. Cass knew there was no avoiding it now.

“It’s a cold case,” she admitted. “Your body was found somewhere off campus. You’d been… beaten, and your throat was cut.”

Michael’s silence was awful. Cass held her legs tighter, wondering if she should’ve kept the information to herself. Seconds ticked by, and there wasn’t a single sound in the room. Dust motes floated serenely through the shaft of moonlight.

“It’s strange hearing about your death from someone else,” Michael said finally. He still didn’t look at her.

Cass could relate. But the biggest difference between them was that she had gotten to come back—her story hadn’t ended in the water, and she still had a chance to figure out why it all happened. Pain tightened in Cass’s chest, as if someone had reached inside and grasped her heart.

Michael’s story wasn’t over, either, she thought suddenly. He still had a chance to find answers, too. Michael may not have a body, but for some big, mysterious reason, he was connected to her.

And Cass was just getting started.

Excitement raced through her. Now that Cass knew Michael’s name, she could keep digging. She could go to the public library and talk to more professors. Maybe the local papers kept archives. But what if they didn’t go that far back? 1926 was an awfully long time ago…

You’re getting ahead of yourself, Cass realized, forcing her runaway thoughts to slow. She’d just dropped a bomb on Michael, and a few weeks ago, he’d told her to stop looking for information about his past. Her gaze went back to him, and her eagerness dimmed. “Was I right to tell you?” Cass asked.

“Yes.” Michael didn’t hesitate. He looked her in the eye and nodded. “Thank you, Cass.”

“You don’t have to thank me, but you’re welcome.” She cast a tired glance toward the clock on her nightstand. It was just past four a.m. now, and the devil’s hour was over—a time, according to her textbooks, that revenants were more powerful. It’s why Dad could hear Cal’s footsteps in the middle of the night, back when Cass was living at home. Maybe now Karen would leave her the fuck alone. Cass rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. The exhaustion had returned in a flood.

When her vision cleared again, Michael was standing. Cass didn’t try to stop him—they both knew he had to leave. Cal could be back any minute, and she needed more sleep if she was going to be remotely functional tomorrow.

“Good night,” Cass said. The words felt lame after the bizarre conversation they’d just had, but it was all she could come up with.

“Good night, Cass.” Michael began to turn away.

“Wait,” she blurted. Michael paused, looking at her. Cass pursed her lips and mustered the courage to ask one more question. She wasn’t sure if it was right, or if she even wanted to know the answer, but she might not get another chance for a while. The thought hardened Cass’s resolve. She met Michael’s gaze and forced herself to say it. “I know ghosts can’t see each other… but do you have any idea where my brother goes when he disappears?”

Although his expression didn’t change, Michael’s eyes softened. “All I know is that he leaves campus,” he answered.

Cass wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. “Okay. Thanks.”

Michael stood there for another moment. “Bluebirds.”

“What?”

“You asked about my first memory. I remember that moment clearly. Twenty years ago, I opened my eyes and… there I was. I stood in front of a window, and everything was blurry. It felt like I’d been asleep for a long time. Then the lines became solid. I understood colors. The green of the leaves, the blue of the feathers. I realized I was looking at a bluebird. It rested on a branch close to the glass, washing itself. Then, down the hall, I heard a baby crying. I left the bird and followed the sound. A few doors down, I watched two people welcome their twins into the world. A son… and a daughter. Cassandra, they named her.

“So technically, we did meet in a hospital room.” Michael gave her a soft smile.

Cass didn’t smile back. The numbers changed on the alarm clock, and the silence rang in her ears again. She mulled over what he’d said, her insides roiling. Cass didn’t know if it was fear or just confusion.

What did it all mean?

Michael was still standing there. Cass met his gaze, uncertain what to say. Before she could fumble out a response he said, “You should get rid of that photograph. Burn it.”

Cass’s brow furrowed, wondering if she’d heard him right. Burn it? But it was the only photograph they had of him. Maybe the only one that still existed. Cass started to ask Michael why, but he was already gone. Cass scowled. She was really starting to hate that.

As she rolled over, a faint scent reached her. Michael’s, Cass realized in a burst of awareness. Since she was alone, she allowed herself a long, deep inhale. It reminded Cass of juniper, maybe. She also thought of pine needles and balsam. It was a good smell, Cass thought distantly, burrowing deeper into the covers. She knew she was falling asleep, but the knowledge didn’t scare her. Cass slipped away within seconds. Her breaths came slow and even, and those cruel, tight hands didn’t return.

For the rest of the night, she dreamed of bluebirds.