Ruby's Ghost (2 page)

Identical.

She dropped to her knees next to the body. She knew the watch because it was her watch. They weren’t real diamonds because Tate couldn’t afford them. She held her hand out. Same nails, same watch. Same clothes. Cold raced through her body. She started to shake.

“Ruby’s dead.” The man sounded like he was about to be sick.

That made two of them. How was this possible? She couldn’t be dead.

“Dead? I can’t be dead. I’m right here.” She tried to shove the man away from the body and instead tumbled through him. The ground was hard and cold beneath her hands and knees. She shivered as if she’d jumped into an icy shower. Again she looked at her hands, then at the body. Was she really dead? She forced herself up.

The man leaned over the gutter and began throwing up.

“I’ve rung. Let’s get the eff out of here.” The others started piling back into the SUV.

Ruby stood on the driveway and watched as the wheels spun and the SUV took off. For a moment she just stood there, not sure what to do. They hadn’t heard her cries for help. They hadn’t even seen her. She must be dead, even though she didn’t feel any different.

A faint light appeared over her crumpled body. She felt its warmth and pull and knew she should go toward it. She didn’t belong here anymore. But then she looked at Tate and she knew she couldn’t leave him lying on the road in a pool of blood. She loved him. She’d loved him since she was fifteen. He was wrong to break up with her; she’d make him realize that they were meant to be together. She’d wait for him.

When she looked back at her body the light was gone. She was cold and scared and alone. She bit back a sob and sat down next to Tate. He should be with her. He’d know what to do.

“Tate?” Ruby sniffed but no tears fell. She was dead and she couldn’t even cry about it. She hugged herself and tried not to freak out. Tate’s breathing became shallower. He’d be joining her soon. Then everything would be okay. They’d be together.

Eloise tugged the blanket closer. Had the temperature in her room just dropped?
No, stop overreacting
. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled in warning. She tried to ignore them; she shouldn’t have watched that horror film before bed. Every creak of the house set her on edge. She kept her eyes closed and tried to relax, but the longer she tried to pretend nothing was wrong, the worse she felt and the colder she got. A shiver rolled down her spine.
This was ridiculous.
She swallowed and rolled over, determined to prove to herself that there was nothing in her room and that she was just overreacting. Pre-exam stress and horror movies didn’t mix.

Eloise cracked her eyes open. Nothing. An empty room. The breath she’d been holding slid out and clouded in front of her. It really was freezing in her room. Her eyes widened as a shadow moved and coalesced into a man standing in the middle of her room.

Her heart jumped into her throat and back into her belly.
Please let it be my imagination.
She closed her eyes, counted to ten and then peeked again. Still there. The man’s image wavered and she could see through him for a second. Not a real person. There was no one in her room. It was just her imagination, or a ghost. A ghost. Right. She was going to have to quit the late-night cups of coffee too. The fear didn’t leave—it gripped her heart tighter as the man solidified. In her ears her pulse was loud enough to wake the street.

Why did her parents have to be out tonight? Even though they’d been leaving her home alone since she was sixteen, she suddenly didn’t feel old enough to be by herself.

Get a grip. You’re twenty, not two.

She’d turn on the light and prove he was nothing but shadows… Then he moved. Shadows didn’t take lurching steps and turn around as if looking for something. She fisted the blanket and hoped he hadn’t realized she was there.

She didn’t blink, or breathe, or swallow until he’d turned away. She had to do something. She couldn’t lie here paralyzed all night.

Sure she could. What else was she supposed to do? The opposite of whatever the girls in horror movies did. She couldn’t think what that was.

This could still be a really realistic hallucination. Yeah, that was way better than a ghost in her room. If she turned the light on, she’d see there was nothing there. Slowly she eased her hand out from under the blanket to the switch of the light on her bedside table.

The man turned as if confused. Then he looked right at her and took a step forward. “Where am I?”

Her mouth dried. That wasn’t her imagination. Her heart bounced against her ribs as if trying to break free. There was a ghost in her room. If she turned on the light would he get mad, or leave? It was too late to do nothing since he knew she was there.

Eloise turned on the light and hoped for the best—whatever that might be. The man looked pale and scared. His left arm hung limply by his side, dripping blood onto the carpet. His image shifted, and he became less solid, as if he was having difficulty being here.
Please leave.
She held her breath and hoped he’d fade away, but he didn’t.

He was still looking around the room, puzzlement drawing his eyebrows down. Then he lifted his head like he could hear something.

“What do you want?” she said, trying to sound brave. Could she reach her bedroom door or would he follow? If she ran, where would she go? She sat up and made ready to flee if he came any closer.

He didn’t move. He just stood there looking lost and frightened. If he were real, she’d be wondering what was wrong. Maybe he wasn’t a vengeful ghost. The thought wasn’t calming. There shouldn’t be
any
ghosts in her room. “Who are you?”

He looked at her, then vanished.

Sirens filled the night. Eloise got out of bed and walked over to the window. She couldn’t see anything, but she could hear more than one set of sirens. Police and ambulance in multiple. There’d been an accident close by. Maybe the man who’d just been in her room was involved. She shuddered and glanced over her shoulder, but he hadn’t come back. Why come here in the first place?

The noise continued. The wailing of sirens a reminder that life was fragile. Maybe he wasn’t dead yet and they’d be able to save him. She bit her lip and said a quick prayer that he was being looked after by the paramedics, then she got back into bed but left the light on and kept her back to the wall, just in case.

Tate opened his eyes. More lights. Blue and red. Where was the dark-haired woman? Where was he? Was he outside? He could’ve sworn he was just in a bedroom. It had looked a lot like his old room, only different—the furniture was wrong. It had been the woman’s room. His head hurt. He closed his eyes again.

“Tate, you’re okay. I’m so glad you’re with me now.” Ruby’s voice dragged him back and prevented him from sleeping. “Take my hand,” she urged, her voice only a whisper. She looked different, paler.

“What happened?” He tried to lift his hand but couldn’t move. Everything hurt and he was tired. Too tired. Better to sleep here.

“Tate, you need to come with me now.” Her words echoed and she glanced around like she was about to panic. What had her so worried? When he didn’t move, she pouted. “Tate, we can still be together. It will be okay.”

The words jolted him. He didn’t want to be with Ruby anymore. “No.”

They’d broken up. Didn’t she remember? He blinked then she was gone and there were other people moving around him, their faces blurred in the bright lights. What was going on?

Someone bumped him, and rolled him onto his back. There was a howl like an animal in pain. Then he realized it was him making that noise and he couldn’t stop. Why wouldn’t everyone leave him alone? He needed to close his eyes and rest.

“Tate Cooper?” Light shone in his face.

He blinked and tried to turn away, but pain gripped his body and twisted, tearing like something was trying to rip his head from his body. Every jolt made it worse. People were doing stuff, pulling on his limbs. Ruby reappeared at his side. Her lips were moving, but he couldn’t hear her—she was getting fainter. He tried to smile and tell her he was fine.

He wasn’t fine. He couldn’t sit up. Straps held him down. Someone else was talking to him, but he didn’t understand a word. He tried to speak, but even that was hard as his throat was raw.

“Ruby?” Where had Ruby gone? She was just there.

“She’s being looked after. Is she your girlfriend?” the woman asked.

“No.” He closed his eyes. She wasn’t. Not anymore. Everything hurt, and he felt raw inside and out.

She touched his face. “Hey, buddy. Do you remember what happened?”

Tate forced his eyes open. “Going home.”

“On your bike?”

He grunted. The woman squeezed his hand and then he was being moved again. Lights sped past. Faces loomed over him. Shadows formed and fractured as everything blurred, then there was only one bright light and they let him close his eyes.

Chapter Two

Tate jolted awake. He was cold, really cold, as if every cell in his body was slowly freezing. His teeth locked together as he tried to stop them from chattering, and his hands were clenched in fists as if he was getting ready to fight. Fight what? At the edge of his hearing was a buzzing just loud enough to be annoying but quiet enough that he couldn’t work out what it was. His memories were jumbled. He should remember something, but he didn’t know what.

He eased up, expecting to be in his bedroom, yet knowing he wasn’t. Around him there was nothing. Well, not nothing, because mist was something, and there was ground beneath him. He stood up. The mist slid and solidified into vague shapes before scattering again. Through the mist he thought he glimpsed walls, or was it trees, or people? It kept changing. His chest tightened as he forced himself to be calm. This had to be a dream. All he had to do was wake up. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes he was still here and the mist had crept closer. Fear sent a spike of adrenaline through his heart, yet still he didn’t wake.

“Hello?” His voice echoed back at him, but the mist shrank back. That was a good thing. A small part of him knew the mist was bad. He didn’t know why or how or what it would do to him, but he didn’t want to find out.

He took a step forward. And the mist edged closer again, as if it were curious about him. It muttered and mumbled but he couldn’t understand a word. A tendril reached out, and he jumped to the side to avoid its touch. His chest hurt…his head hurt too. In the moment of distraction the mist closed up, tightening around him like a prison.

“Boo!” The mist shrank back, but not as far as last time.

It would get him. He knew that. If he stayed here he would disappear into the mist.

Where the hell was he? He tried to remember what had happened. Lights and darkness, talking to a dark-haired woman. Thinking made his head hurt. He put his hands on his temples to stop the pressure from breaking open his skull, but it only got worse. His nails dug into his scalp, but the pain didn’t make him wake up. He was awake and trapped here.

How had he got here? He’d been at a party. A party with Ruby. He blinked and thought he saw her in the mist.

Where was Ruby? He was supposed to be taking her home. Had Ruby been taken by the mist? Icy sweat formed on his back; if she’d gone into the mist, he couldn’t help her. The same way he knew the mist was dangerous he knew that once it had taken someone it was too late. He turned as someone flickered past the corner of his vision, long pale hair catching in a breeze he couldn’t feel.

“Ruby?” he whispered, not sure he wanted to summon anything out of the mist, but not wanting to be here alone either. He didn’t want to be here at all. He didn’t belong here. He wanted to go home.

“Tate.” She stepped out of the mist, looking like he remembered…but something was different. “I thought I’d lost you.” She ran towards him, her arms outstretched and a smile on her lips. The one he remembered, all sugar and fun. Not the one she’d used at the party filled with half-masked anger and unspoken demands.

He almost hugged her out of reflex, but at the last moment he twisted away. She’d walked out of the mist. How was that possible? Then he looked at her more closely. Was it really Ruby or a trick to lure him in and trap him?

“What’s wrong?” She frowned and tried to touch his arm.

He took a step back, then saw his arm hanging awkwardly by his side. The pressure in his head increased, pain stabbing down his neck. “I don’t know.”

Tate tried to focus on Ruby and the mist, but the buzzing became louder and more insistent. As he stared at her, he realized why she didn’t look quite right. Her skin was pale—no, not just pale. She’d lost all color, like she’d just stepped out of an old black-and-white film. The mist had tainted her and changed her. He glanced at his own hands. They were skin-colored, but only just, as if he were also fading away. He looked at his arm and saw raw skin and blood through the tear in his jacket. The pain in his head increased…was he dying? Or dead?

Screeching of tires. He remembered the impact and the sensation of being weightless before hitting the ground hard. The lights and voices. Was he hurting because he was alive? The pain in his shoulder and head became stronger, but he welcomed it. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to live. He glanced at the strangely faded Ruby. Was she dead? He wasn’t sure he wanted to ask because the answer he was going to get would be too awful. He realized what the mist meant.

“Where am I?” he said instead.

“Where do you want to be? We can go anywhere.” Ruby pointed at something to her left. “How about our special spot on the beach?”

The mist shifted and reshaped, but he saw nothing.

“This isn’t right.” It was just endless mist and cold. He couldn’t see what she did because he wasn’t dead yet. The mist hadn’t claimed him. Was that what Ruby was here for? To draw him into the mist?

No. She wouldn’t. She was just as lost as him…but he couldn’t avoid her odd appearance or the way she’d walked out of the mist and it had let her pass.

The buzzing grew louder and was joined by voices. He glanced up as he heard his name. “Do you hear that?”