Page 17 of Origins
That didn’t make it any less creepy, though.
“Are you lost?” I asked.
The room became impossibly colder, and I shuddered as my breath became visible in front of me. Still, the shape didn’t move. So I didn’t anymore either. I had never had this happen before, so I had no idea what to expect.
A tense moment passed, and I remained still outside of my shallow breaths and shivering. Then, suddenly, a translucent outline formed in the space near the vanity. Still, whatever it was couldn’t be powerful, because I was able to barely discern the figure of a young girl.
And she was looking right back at me, just as terrified as I was!
It was hard to make out details, but my heart dropped nonetheless. Achild. I had been expecting an old pervert or a demon. Not this.
Fear retreated, as sorrow and grief touched my senses— a mixture of both our emotions. After all, one of the perks of mysensitivitywas also the ability to feel more than I probably should.
“It’s alright,” I told her. I had made the right decision to stay. “Why are you here?”
Even through her indistinguishable features, I knew she was watching me—curious. However, she still made no move to respond.
I frowned, unsure of what to do next. What if she didn’t know how to communicate? That would make things more difficult.
She only continued to study me before a spike of fear shot through the room. Then she was gone. There was nothing left in her place. No shadow. No shape. Nothing. Just me watching my own frazzled reflection in the mirror.
Chapter Six
Research
It was way too early for any sane person to be awake, but I found myself in such a state. It was only through the power of overpriced coffee, and the ghost-child’s antics, that I remained out of bed.
Instead, I found myself waiting at the coffee shop—counting down the moments before the library opened and I could begin my research.
So someone—a little girl—was haunting my professor’s home.
Now, more than ever, I was determined to find answers. A child had no business spending afterlife as a ghost. If the apparition had been someone who looked like a mass-murderer, I might have started researching exorcisms. However, I couldn’t exorcise a child—it seemed unnatural.
From the details I had been able to discern, she had been a ghost for a long time. And I felt that if she reached closure, then she might move on. I wasn’t certain where to start, but my best bet would be to figure out her name. If I could find out if a little girl had died in that house, then everything else might fall into place.
This might be a difficult task though, because the house was fairly old and had a long history of owners. It’s most recent revision had apparently been the talk of the town, considering that the home had been uninhabited before Professor Hamway’s husband—an architect and city official—acquired the place.
There was one thing that would help me in my search, and it was the fact that Black Hollows was a small town. And also, this home was of particular historic import. Therefore, if a child had died there, then there also must be a record of the event.
To find out that information, I would probably have to access the historical newspaper archives—and I had no idea where to begin with that. However, I was willing to bet that Ms. McKinnen—the head librarian—would be able to assist. And that was only if she didn’t already know the information off the top of her head.
Ms. McKinnen was a notorious gossip, and heavily involved with the local historical society. I would need only tocasuallymention that I was house-sitting for Professor Hamway, and Ms. McKinnen would gleefully tell me every horror story that she might know regarding the property. I would be able to cut out most of my leg work just talking to her.
Then there was the second reason for being at the library today. If I truly wanted to help this ghost-girl, then I needed to learn more about my own abilities—and people like me.
I frowned down at the top of my white coffee cup. Remembering this topic made me recall the events of the night before—
“Bianca?” Finn’s shocked voice broke through my thoughts. My eyes shot up to witness the blond-haired man pushing past students in line at the café, in order to reach the small, round table where I was seated. “What are…”
“Hello, Finn.” I smiled at him, hoping that the guilt from my lies didn’t show on my face. “How are you? What are you doing here so early in the morning?”
Finn’s mouth dipped, but he didn’t respond at first. Instead, he set his leather backpack on the floor and sat down in the seat across from me. “It’s not early. And I come here every day—to study. But,” he leveled a suspicious look at me, his grey eyes calculating, “you don’t.”
I raised an eyebrow in response, but he continued, “Why did you cancel our meeting last night? What’s going on? I was worried.”
Sure. I could tell how worried he was when he didn’t care if the ghost killed me.
I picked up my cup and blew on the rising steam before I answered, trying to sound nonchalant. “Idohave homework too. Plus, I like reading. It’s not unheard of for me to come to the library, you know.”
