Perception (Apparition Investigations #1)

Case #1: Villanova Apartments: Part 19

Noah moved faster than I could. He grabbed Bronte, yanking her into the ward.

The pocket watch hit the barrier, unable to pass through it. With Noah pulling her one way, Bronte's fingers slipped from around the pocket watch. It fell, clattering onto the wooden front porch, outside of the ward.

I scrambled after it, ducking under Noah's flailing arms as he tried to stop me. I passed easily through the barrier, landing on the pocket watch like it were a grenade, curling around it.

A second later, I felt something rip into my back. Fire and pain exploded in my senses, turning my throat dry and ripping cries and tears from me. It felt the way I imagined cutting into a tomato might. Messy and sharp and deforming.

Shouts sounded above me. I curled even tighter around the watch. I'd put Cyril and Oliver up on the chopping block once by inviting Noah into the apartment. I wasn't about to let some monstrous serial killing ghost play Jack the Ripper on the one thing tethering them here. Not if there was even the faintest trace of them that wanted to stay.

Bikini season be damned.

Chills crept down my arms. "Stella! You need to get back inside the barrier!"

I looked up at Cyril's voice, once again forgetting that I couldn't see a blasted thing. But I could hear roaring, straining grunts, the sounds of fighting.

Noah appeared suddenly, trying to lift me off the pocket watch. "Stella, you need to get inside the ward now!"

I pushed myself more toward the ground, covering up the watch with everything I had. "They can't get inside the barrier!"

Bronte screamed behind me. A sound I'd never heard her make before. Fear and fury mixing together in her voice.

Oliver swore.

The wind began to pick up. Behind me, in the apartment, I heard things fall over and crash to the ground. The tell-tale smack of books hitting walls. Of furniture toppling over. Sounds I'd all heard before.

Bronte's screaming shifted. Something in the tone changed. And that change went from fear and fury to pain. Pure, raw, suffocating pain.

Noah and I whipped around at the same time.

Bronte had collapsed beside the still flickering candle, eyes wide, her hands braced on either temple as if her head would explode if she removed her hands. Her face was screwed into an expression I'd never seen before. Her slack mouth hung open, the scream erupting from it. She was absolutely still except for her eyes. With her head held in place, her eyes darted, seeing things that I couldn't see. As if hundreds of things had appeared before her and she was trying to see them all at once.

The wind died instantly. Everything in the apartment that had been moving stopped suddenly.

The helpless worry in Oliver's voice stabbed into my chest. "What's happening? What's going on?"

Cyril grunted as the creature hissed a guttural cry.

Stunned, I could just stare at Bronte. She hiccupped, her lungs finally running out of air, and the screaming stopped. Her mouth still hung open, her eyes kept buzzing with movement, but she remained completely still. Trying to absorb everything she was seeing.

Above me, Noah stared, mirroring my uncertainty and worry.

Behind me, someone cleared their throats.

Noah and I swung around again. Our neighbor across the way stood half out of his door. Still dressed in a white pajama shirt and his boxes, he looked over us: Bronte through the open door, screaming; me curled up just outside the front door; Noah partly on top of me.