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Emilee's arms constricted around the pillow and she pulled her knees closer against the plush fabric. The mixed aroma of ginger shampoo and soap tangled between its fibers was the only aspect that was keeping her from going insane.
Just focus on the scent.
Her eyes followed the red stitching in her comforter, observing how each loop swirled into a subtle rose against the crimson fabric. No unnecessary stitch or excess thread used to create the rose. Each one had purpose, each one following a logical pattern to an overall design. Something that was simple but beautiful.
All of them make sense. All of them uniform, following each other into one purpose.
Emilee's fingers gripped the fabric of her pillow. Cotton squeezed together beneath her fingers and she tried harder to clear her mind.
Why did Mom suddenly make contact with me?
She didn't dare to tell her father about what the late Mrs. Davin said about Melinda.
If she didn't want Dad to marry anyone else, she wouldn't have….
Emilee buried her face in her pillow.
Calm down, Emilee. Mom was always really protective. She's just looking out for you.
She inhaled the ginger scent, meditating on it for a moment, while the knots in her shoulders unwound. Stress loosened in her back, the tension fizzling away the more she focused on the pillow.
She is still watching over everyone. Mom still loves us. I know she does…she was just scared that Melinda would be someone that rejected me.
Emilee relaxed her arms, guiding her hands over the width of her pillow. Her fingertips memorized the way the threads crossed over each other, seeming to mingle with the indents in her fingers. Her fingerprints. The pillow. Each one having a purpose, creating a logical shape.
Sighing, Emilee pushed her covers back enough to burrow her feet under the leftover warmth of her body heat. With her pillow snuggled against her chest, she wiggled under the covers and blocked all thought for the rest of the night.
...
Ethan kicked a box out of the way only to trip over a lamp. Crashing over it, he felt his elbow break into a cardboard box and he landed flat on his back.
"Son of a bitch," was all he could mumble. Once he regained feeling in his arm, Ethan adjusted his glasses and sat up, rubbing his lower back.
"Need some help?" a woman's voice startled him and Ethan jumped to his feet.
"What-?! Who-!?"
"Relax," a woman emerged from the shadows, holding her hands up. A welcoming smile was spread across her face but that didn't bring much comfort.
"How did you get into my house?" he demanded and the woman crossed her arms, relaxing her weight on one foot.
"You left the basement door open," she said, gesturing to the door swaying on its hinges. "I heard a crash and I thought I would make sure everyone was okay."
Ethan stared at her for a moment, wondering what to do.
What will Melinda think if she sees me down here with a strange woman?
"Uh…." Ethan deduced this newcomer wasn't a threat. Her smile and kind, green eyes took the edge off his mood. Her curls were polished but casual, a style Melinda would have complimented to the moon and back.
"I'm sorry to not introduce myself," the woman said, holding out her hand, "I'm Vivien Harmon."
Ethan pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose and blinked. Vivien studied his thick hair, which made him look a few years younger than he was. It was difficult to tell the color in the dark.
"Ethan Davin," he replied, trying not to sound rude. Vivien gave his hand a light squeeze and then a firm shake.
"Anyway," she said, "I should get back home. My family and I live around the corner; so, feel free to drop by if you need anything."
Ethan replied with an awkward, "Thank you" and Vivien headed back to the door. He watched her shut it and returned to his search for the box. Grabbing the one he had broken into with his elbow, he gathered it in his arms after tossing the booby trap of a lamp in it.
He couldn't hear the snarls from the dusty corners of his basement.
...
Vivien exhaled a sigh of relief when the basement door shut. Blessing the shadows, she wandered back into the dank room she lived in while the new owners were awake and around the house. It was no use trying to scare them out anymore.
"You had me worried for a minute," Ben said from behind her.
"Why?"
"I thought you were going to try another one of your tricks."
Ben's eyes gleamed with amusement, despite the darkness and Vivien could make out the crinkle at the corner of his eyes as he smiled at her.
"What more could either of us do?" she sighed, crossing and uncrossing her arms over her chest. "If the combination of making the oldest daughter pass out and Thaddeus's attack didn't drive them out by now…"
Ben ran his hands up and down her sides, easing her mind enough that she could rest her head against his shoulder.
"I just hope this house doesn't damage them," she whispered. Ben wrapped his arms around his wife, holding her tight enough that her memory replayed the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat.
"We'll keep an eye out for them," Ben reassured her. "Violet seems attached to the little girl already. Moira is constantly around Melinda. You've claimed Ethan as your favorite."
There was a note of envy in his voice and Vivien let herself laugh. Her hands circled over his back, her touch soothing, and Ben nuzzled her.
"And what about the oldest? Emilee, right?"
Ben pulled back, leaving his hands on the small of her back.
Tate is taking a liking to her, he wanted to say. For some reason, it felt it best to keep it to himself. The less attention that psycho forces on my daughter, the better.
"Should it worry me that Tate's the one that seems attached to her?"
Vivien's eyes widened.
"Why do you think that?"
So much for keeping it to himself. Ben pressed his lips together, his eyes wandering about the dark room.
"Well, it could be that he's just latching onto her for some sort of comfort..." the doctor trailed off, not wanting to acknowledge any sort of twisted obsession Tate had with Violet. Vivien tensed with concern, her fingers flexing against his back.
"He-shouldn't be a threat to her."
She didn't sound convinced and Ben slipped his hand off his wife's back. Rubbing his forehead, he tried to think of the proper statement to recant his previous claim. Besides, wouldn't it be a good thing if Tate forgot about the whole ordeal and left the Harmons alone? He hadn't talked to them in years, but it was still unnerving for Ben to look over Violet's shoulder only to see the black eyes peering at her from the shadows.
"Looks like we have our work cut out for us, Doctor," Vivien said.
...
"Emilee! Emilee! Emilee!" Rowan pounded on her sister's bedroom door, her spiraled curls springing as she bounced on her feet. "Come on! It's time to go to school!"
Welcoming herself into the bedroom, Rowan bounded over to her sister's bed, jumping on top of her. Emilee uttered a low groan, her face half buried in her pillow and the rest covered by her auburn hair.
"Emilee! Come on! It's the first day of school!" Rowan pulled back some of Emilee's hair back from her face, a few strands dragging saliva with them.
"No. No school." Emilee batted her hand at her little sister, fingers fishing for the edge of her blanket to pull over her head. A few snores escaped her mouth and Rowan huffed in irritation.
"Moira made so much food for breakfast," Rowan tapped Emilee's shoulder. The snoring stopped.
"Food?"
"A lot of it."
"…waffles?"
"There's a whole tower of waffles, Em," Rowan bribed. "A tower of buttery waffles with a waterfall of maple syrup."
As if on cue, Emilee's stomach growled.
"…tower…waffles?"
"And fruit. And…" Rowan leaned in close to her ear, "double chocolate chip pancakes."
In a flash, Emilee had thrown back the covers, engulfing Rowan in a wave of fabric.
"THOSE PANCAKES ARE MINE!"
"HEY!" Rowan yanked the covers off of her before chasing her sister out into the hall and down the stairs. Emilee's hair trailed behind her and Rowan raced just a few steps behind her. "I want some of those too!"
They sounded as if they were going to break through the stair case. Melinda bit her tongue to keep herself from teasing how the wood was going to splinter as Emilee leaped from the second to last stair. She skidded all the way to the entrance of the kitchen, arms waving around and almost knocking into Moira, carrying a fresh pot of coffee to Ethan. Melinda slicked a polished curl behind her ear, hiding her bemused smile behind her mug of coffee.
"Be careful, Rowan," Moira whisked the coffee pot over the little girl's head as she skidded into the kitchen, her hair curtain of tangles over her face. Ethan burst out laughing at her hair style, unable to muffle his laughs by biting on his knuckles. Moira cleared her throat to suppress her own outburst and poured coffee into Ethan's mug.
"Is that enough for you, sir?" she asked. Ethan collected himself and nodded at the young apparition.
"Yeah, thanks Moira," he said, lifting his mug as if toasting to her. Her brown eyes smoldered over him, Ethan instinctively leaning back on the stool, casting a sideways glance at the distracted Melinda.
Taking a compact comb from her purse, Melinda combed through Rowan's tangles as Emilee loaded her breakfast plate with as many chocolate chip pancakes her conscience would allow.
"You're gonna eat them all!" Rowan complained, attempting to tug away from Melinda to get her share of pancakes.
"I'll save you one," Emilee sang while drenching her breakfast in maple syrup
"Yeah! One! You jerk!"
Emilee shrugged, but left more than one pancake for her sister.
"This is so picture perfect. I could puke," a voice growled in her left ear.
Emilee perked up, a fork dangling from her mouth.
"To be honest, it's kind of refreshing to see a family getting along like this."
Emilee cast her family a glance but none of them seemed to notice the other presences. Rowan was keeping herself still while Melinda braided her hair and Moira was too engaged in conversation with Ethan to notice anything else in the room.
"Rowan is going to love the school here. She'll make so many friends and…."
Or she's ignoring it, Emilee supposed to herself. She flicked her eyes back towards the empty doorway, half expecting to see Tate or some other blood stained apparition. Whoever had been there was gone. Or at least silent.
"It's a great school system," Ethan agreed, eyes scanning over the paper and ignoring Moira creeping closer to him.
Emilee felt the familiar churning of her stomach and inhaled deeply to calm her anxiety. The maid's hand was traveling to her father's back, and she shot her a warning glare. Moira hesitated but returned to a less flirtatious stance.
"No one is going to hurt you, Emilee."
Despite the sudden warmth in the room, goose bumps prickled over her arms. Violet had suddenly appeared a few feet from Rowan, her brown eyes watching Melinda's fingers weave the little girl's curls into an elegant braid. But it wasn't Violet talking to her.
The ghost put her finger to her lips, signaling to Emilee no one could sense her energy. Realizing she still had a fork dangling from her mouth, Emilee squeezed past Melinda to set it and her plate on the island.
"I'll be right back," she said and slipped out of the kitchen.
"She fucking heard me."
"You're loud as hell. Of course she fucking heard you."
The goose bumps lead to a chill over her body as she circled around the hallway, into the dining room. It felt colder for a moment and Emilee paused, her green eyes raking over every inch of the room. The voices fell silent again, but she felt a spirit pass her, as if trying to run away.
"I know you're here. You're just not revealing yourself to me," Emilee growled through her teeth, following the cold breeze back into the hall. The ice freezing her stomach into a block told her to head for the basement door.
"You're running from her? That's hilarious."
"I don't want her near me!"
Emilee stopped before the basement door, her hand froze over the knob. The breeze hovered behind the door, a gray mist churning at her eye level and Emilee watched as a pair of striking eyes started to glare back at her from behind the glass. A woman with sharp features and glossy, red hair pierced through the reflection, as if resenting the fact Emilee had followed her.
"If you didn't want me to follow you, then why did you start talking to me?" Emilee asked and the woman scoffed.
"I wasn't talking to you," she snarled, rolling her eyes and then vanished.
Bitch, Emilee wanted to spit but dropped her hand back to her side. Turning back around, her face collided with Tate's chest, almost knocking her over.
"What the-?!"
She held her nose, giving it a ginger rub and checked to make sure it wasn't bleeding.
"Hayden is bipolar like that," he shrugged. Emilee glared at him through her tousled bangs, her hand still covering her nose.
"Ugh! Can you not?!" she snapped, tossing her messy hair back over her shoulders and straightening her posture.
"You ran into me," Tate cocked an eyebrow, but his face remained blank otherwise. Emilee noticed how he seemed bored, a complete one eighty from her last encounter with him.
And he has the audacity to call someone else bipolar.
"Is there a reason your personality snaps at the push of a button?" Emilee crossed her arms, setting her face into the best glare she could. Tate's eyebrows furrowed, his bored expression melting into confusion.
"What are you talking about?"
It was Emilee's turn to raise an eyebrow.
"You're kidding me."
She leaned forward. A strand of auburn hair brushed over her crossed arms and the V in her tank top dipped. She was too busy mocking his memory to realize it and Tate cast his eyes to the opposite wall.
"You fucking threatened me. Or tried to seduce me last time we were alone."
"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart," Tate laughed, sending a chill through Emilee's back. "You were putty in my hands either way."
"Excuse you? I have a boyfriend, you fucking psycho."
Tate rolled his eyes. It was no surprise her hostility hadn't simmered away and Tate felt slightly offended at how she insisted on being such a complication when they interacted. If her energies weren't constantly yanking him off his feet, he could leave her alone. He would, too. There was nothing interesting about this girl. She was different from other girls, but not in the charming way Violet was.
Either way, Tate didn't want to be around Emilee. Even so, getting on her nerves brought its own sense of accomplishment, so, he decided to follow their usual pattern.
"Really? Why don't you talk about him?" he demanded.
Emilee let out a pretentious, "Ha!" that made him flinch.
"I don't talk about him with you. Doesn't mean I don't have one."
Tate chewed his lips, keeping his soulless eyes on her. The red head tensed her thin body, her green eyes blaring with dislike, not hate. There was that sense of desire, Tate sensed. Maybe not in a sexual way, but she wanted him around, whether she admitted it. Or realized it for that matter.
"Well, as much as I would love to stick around and talk about your sex life," his comment made her jaw drop. "Oh, or lack thereof...well, I don't care. I have things to do."
His sarcasm made anger heat her skin. Tate smirked before disappearing and Emilee let out a low growl.
I fucking hate ghosts, sometimes. Assholes.
Collecting herself, and suddenly realizing how her stomach was growling, Emilee strode back into the kitchen.
"You better get a move on, Em," Ethan urged as she reappeared. The coffee brewing in the pot was almost gone and Emilee swiped her pancakes from the island top as she slid her way back to her father.
"Where did Melinda and Rowan go?" she asked while tearing into her breakfast.
"Picking out the perfect First Day of School Outfit," he said with a slight lyspe and higher pitched voice. Emilee's laugh was muffled by pancake dough.
"You're just mean."
"What?" Ethan looked genuinely confused, peering at her over the rims of his glasses.
Emilee smiled and rolled her eyes, shoving a forkful of chocolate chips into her mouth. Before she could say anything else, the doorbell rang. Ethan's tie whipped with his torso as he jumped and turned, dark eyebrows drawing together in surprise.
"Who in the hell would be stopping over this early?" He pulled his suit sleeve back to check his watch and straightened his tie before striding out of the kitchen.
Licking syrup from her lips, Emilee scampered after her father. She was about to cross into the light of the main hall when a force almost knocked her backwards. Feeling as if she had face planted into a wall, Emilee slipped back into the shadows and kept herself hidden behind the wall of the dining room.
"Tate…?" Emilee glimpsed around the shadows but she knew it wasn't his energy making her skin crawl.
She heard the door open, the goose bumps feeling like they were bubbling over her bones. Ethan clear his throat.
"Good morning," he greeted. Emilee recognized the friendly but slightly irritated tone her father always adopted when he was surprised.
"Hello! I'm sorry to stop by so early, but I saw we had new neighbors!"
There was a pause and Emilee peeked around to see Ethan hold the door open for an older, blond woman and a young boy. He looked about Rowan's age. His sunny blond hair matched the woman's, but she looked far too old to be his mother. Emilee noted how she looked as polished as Melinda did, her dress fitting the curves of her body and high heels perfectly shiny in the hallway's light.
Goosebumps melted into a cold sweat when she turned her attention back to the boy.
He's not dead. Why is he giving off this type of energy?
Then he noticed her. His eyes, despite being a soft blue, were as endless and soulless as Tate's. Emilee felt her body paralyze, marveling at how a human could have such a negative energy and his eyes...
"Michael and I just got back from a summer vacation two days ago, otherwise I would have dropped by sooner," the woman chirped. Emilee didn't like the smile she had spread across her face. Despite her shining eyes, the smile was too forced.
"Ah, well, welcome back," Ethan returned the smile and slipped his hands into his pockets. "I'm Ethan Davin. My girlfriend and daughters are upstairs getting ready for school."
"It's nice to meet you Ethan. I'm Constance Langdon," the woman shook his hand lightly and looked around the hallway. She didn't notice Emilee studying the little boy gripping the straps of his blue back pack. "Michael was just getting ready to catch the bus soon. I thought I would say hello first."
Ethan smiled.
"How old are you, Michael?"
"Keep him away from Rowan."
"I'm nine," he replied, an innocent smile on his face. Emilee's skin froze.
"Mom...?"
"My daughter is eight," Ethan said.
No. Don't say anything about Rowan, Emilee wanted to shout but bit her tongue. How did he not sense his dead wife?
"Sounds like you might have a friend!" Constance cheered. Emilee flinched.
How about no?
Michael beamed up at Constance, who smoothed his hair. Emilee felt her eyes burn. Deciphering the kind of energy this boy was emitting was impossible.
Hell, Tate is easier to figure out, compared to this little twerp.
There was the sound of running steps, Emilee's concentration interrupted. Rowan bounded into view, the skirt of her black and white checkered dress twirling around her knees. Her braid trailed down her back, a red ribbon tied at the end. She bounced in her black flats, her face light and alive with pride.
"I feel so pretty! What do you think, Dad?" she asked, twirling for him.
"I think you look lovely."
Rowan curtseyed playfully and Constance folded her hands in front of her face.
"Such a beautiful young lady," she breathed. Michael was staring at her too and this made Emilee want to step out of the shadows and shove him and his mother? Grandmother? Out the door.
"I look like Emilee, Dad!"
This made her animosity melt away.
"I look like a dancer, like Emilee!"
Rowan twirled again. Constance glanced at Ethan.
"Is Emilee your other daughter?"
He nodded.
"She's my eldest. She has a habit of disappearing," he added, glancing around for her.
"I'm right here," Emilee stretched, finally stepping out of the dining room but made it look as if she had just been passing through. "Hi," she greeted Constance with a smile and a stretch.
Constance nodded a greeting.
"It's nice to meet you. I'm Constance and this is my son, Michael."
"Likewise," Emilee did her best to not shoot a glare of daggers at the boy. How would she explain that one to her father?
"Shall we wait for the bus? I'm assuming Rowan and Michael are going to be classmates," Ethan guessed, hoping this new boy would be able to show Rowan around. Give her someone to talk to and help her adjust to a new life.
"No. Rowan is going to switch schools."
Emilee bit the tip of her tongue, placing her hand on her sister's shoulder. The air was tightening and Emilee made out the low moan of a spirit from the dining room.
"Emilee, please...!"
"Go away," she hissed under her breath.
"I think so. The bus should be here soon," Constance said as Ethan picked up Rowan's back pack and started out the door. The kids were studying each other, Michael seeming to avoid Emilee's glare. Thankfully, none of them could hear Emilee hissing under her breath.
"Your dress is pretty," Michael said awkwardly and Rowan beamed, her cheeks turning a faint pink.
"Thank you." Rowan smoothed the skirt of it. Emilee didn't realize she was pushing her sister behind her until the girl pushed her hand off her shoulder. "Emilee, are you okay?"
"Don't say anything to her."
Emilee met her sister's inquiring eyes and forced a smile.
How am I supposed to protect her when I can't tell her what's dangerous?
"Yeah, just…have a good first day."
Rowan nodded, waving to Melinda as she descended the stairs, adjusting her pearl earrings.
"Let's go, Rowan," she said and gave Emilee a kiss on the top of her head. "Are you going to be alright? I just want to drive Rowan to school and I'll be back before I go into work."
"I'll be alright. I can walk this morning," Emilee replied. She shot the boy another glare but Melinda was preoccupied with adjusting her brown heels to notice. Rowan waved to Emilee before following Melinda out the door.
"See you later, Emilee," Melinda waved.
I really should insist on driving next time, she scolded herself while catching up with Rowan, who had already met up with Constance and Ethan.
Michael felt Emilee's eyes boring into his back as he followed shortly behind and decided to avoid eye contact. She turned around when the door clicked shut. Calming the fire swirling in her chest, Emilee turned to the stair case. She froze once she met the stunned gaze of Tate, whose eyes flickered from the door to her. His energy pulsed with fear.
Boy am I glad Finals Week is over. My brain is so fried...gah. But, I hope to be uploading much more! I'm trying to keep my postings about ten to fourteen days apart. I am trying to deliver more quality to each one, you know? Make sure everything gets tied together before shit starts hitting the fan. I hope this is interesting! I'm really working on character development...so, I hope I am doing a good job! Thank you so much for reading!
Until next time,
~SNR
