GHOST PORTAL (#1 GHOST PORTAL series)

EIGHT

Out in the alleyway, Jessamine scooped up air in her lungs as if it were a commodity, as if the world were on the verge of an apocalypse that would deprive her of oxygen. She heaved, sensing her chest caving in and puffing out, her heart pulsing too fast for her to keep up. Bent over, hands grasping her knees as if they were her only tether to life itself, she waited for something to spew out her mouth. The nausea had grown so intense she could barely see.

Why did she get so defensive? She didn't know these people—Amy, Avery—and didn't remember that house or whatever experience she might have had in its vicinity. Why would something in her prompt her to speak out such a vague but ominous warning at the man who was frantically searching for Amy? Now he'd never leave her alone; he'd dig deeper into Jessamine's knowledge—or her lack thereof, he'd soon find out—and possibly get her in trouble with the law, if she was found to have known where that forest was.

She no longer knew where it was, if what her mother had told her was true. The location drowned deep in a lake of suppressed memories in her mind, and she wasn't sure she wanted access to them if this was the type of reaction she'd have. Hyperventilating and dry-heaving in an alley after being asked if she knew anything about the house?

This is too much.

Something inside her was not happy.

A hand grabbed her and straightened her up. She looked up, and her eyes widened at the sight of her mom, her blonde tresses tugged into a tight bun but her taut expression not influencing how the strands pulled at the edges of her face.

"Jessamine?" Mrs. Spencer clutched her by the shoulders, squeezing. "Are you all right?"

Was it their coffee date day? Jessamine shook her head, which reminded her of the migraine thumping away inside her skull. Her brain was hammering on the surface to escape and go find an enclosure with less trauma to deal with.

"I..." Jessamine gulped, and the saliva hurt as it traveled down her throat. "No, I'm... not okay." She couldn't get the words out before sensing herself about to collapse.

Somehow, Mrs. Spencer guided her out of the alley and into her car, parked nearby. She settled Jessamine into the passenger seat, buckled her seat-belt, then rushed around to the driver's side and turned on the air-conditioning. It was another muggy day, but Jessamine's overheating had nothing to do with the temperature; hopefully Mrs. Spencer would figure that out shortly.

"Water?" Mrs. Spencer reached into the backseat and fetched an unopened water bottle. "Drink."

Shivering, fighting to break the seal over the cap, Jessamine obeyed, letting the lukewarm liquid lap into her mouth, and swallowing it with a cringe. She mustered two or three sips before putting the bottle down, worried the water would shoot back up in a matter of seconds. Something clogged the top of her throat, and her eyes kept rolling to the back of her head—

"I'm taking you to the hospital," said Mrs. Spencer, turning on the ignition.

Jessamine's arm—weak and flimsy, she had a hard time controlling its movement—raised to prevent Mrs. Spencer from taking the wheel.

"No," she said, her voice croaky, as if she'd had no water in days. "No hospital. I just... I want answers."

Through blurry eyes—tears or oncoming blindness, Jessamine wasn't sure—she watched her mom turn the car back off and twist sideways in her seat, her upper arm smashing into the wheel.

"What is it, kid?" She felt Jessamine's forehead and hissed. "Jesus, you're sizzling. What happened?"

"It's that..." Jessamine's teeth clattered. Her body was, indeed, overheated, though she enjoyed the cool breeze coming from the vents. But she was in fact cold; her blood was chilled, her extremities numbing as if dipped in ice-water. "That damned house, Mom. It keeps... it won't... leave me alone."