Ryker

Beauregard House

 "I need to visit that place," I told Caleb. He followed me from where he'd been waiting in the hallway as I exited the bathroom.

"What place?"

"The Beauregard House, Caleb." I fell to my knees and dug through my clothing until l found a windbreaker. A glance through the window told me it was beginning to drizzle outside.

"It's three in the morning, Ella! What are you thinking? You could get hurt out there, and I wouldn't be able to help you."

I yanked open the door, simultaneously sliding my keys into my pocket. "What do you mean? Last time my life was in danger, you literally pulled me out of harm's way." I gestured to the lingering marks around my waist.

"I think I was able to do that—wait up!" he warped through the wall as I exited my apartment. "—to do that because the circumstances mirrored those of my death."

"Good theory. Now prove it." I walked into the rain and blinked as the water hit my eyes.

"Experts in the paranormal always say that spirits interact best when you introduce something they may be familiar with, or relate to. Give a child spirit a toy, have music playing for a party scene, or read Scripture by a priest's grave."

"Yeah, they're called trigger objects."

"You almost getting hit by a car, truck, whatever," Caleb began, "was very similar to the cause of my death. It was like firing a gun in an Old West bar."

Even as he spoke I continued walking. We were now out of the complex. "Which is way is the mansion?"

"Left. So since my death was similar, I was able to muster enough energy to save you from the accident."

A rumble of thunder prompted a renewed sheet of rain. Tugging up my hood and shoving my hands in my pockets, I said, "You did have a pretty extreme reaction. Whenever you use a shit ton of energy, your form begins to change to its original likeness—the five year old you—but that time it was as if you were cycling through your entire afterlife of forms."

"You mean the forms you gave me?" He corrected. "Most ghosts remain in the same form. Those who can morph are seen as demons. Evil in nature."

I shrugged. "Maybe guardian angels are the same."

"Is that what you see me as? Some guardian I am. You get injured all the time."

My hand automatically went to my most recent injury not caused by Caleb himself, the fading scar left over from when Gallant shattered a china teacup across the room. "I'm clumsy. And I put myself in harm's way."

"You can't be held totally—whoa." Caleb came to a dead stop in front of the Beauregard House. I followed his gaze up to the stormy exterior.

"Funny. It must be reflecting the sky or something, it was brighter in my dream."

"You dreamed of this?" He asked me, shock hitting his features like a bullet. "You didn't tell me."

"Just now." I nodded.

Caleb returned his focus to the house. "No wonder you wanted to take a witching hour stroll out here."

"Witching hour." I repeated his words, then glanced up at the sky. "And the moon is full."

Squinting his eyes, Caleb frowned. "No, I think it's still got a little ways to go. It's hard to tell in the rain."

I pointed at the door. "I saw that open in my dream."