Chapter Seventeen

They drove to Richie’s house in silence; there were no words to distract them from the dreadful images that Ang had captured. Richie was horrified on Ang’s behalf. No wonder she called her gift a curse. To have these images mingling with her memories... Richie just shook his head. He wouldn’t be able to stand it. He couldn’t get those drawings of Kirstin being attacked out of his head.

Ang was lost in her own thoughts. She was grateful that Richie didn’t dismiss this whole episode as too weird for him. She thought about warning him that it was going to get a whole lot weirder, but decided against it. He would find out for himself soon enough. Ang tried to relax and prepare herself for the next onslaught. She knew it would take a lot out of her. She fidgeted in her seat, twisting her hands around each other nervously.

As Richie drove, he saw Ang’s discomfort. He reached across the seat to touch his hand to hers. With a grateful smile, Ang twined her fingers through his and drew from his strength. As they approached the house, the sun was shining brightly in their faces. When they pulled to a stop at the top of the driveway, that room, Kirstin’s room, was spotlighted by the sun, at an angle almost impossible from the sun’s position in the sky.

“What the hell?” Richie asked, pointing upwards as they got out of the car. The window to Kirstin’s room was open, and though there was no breeze, the curtains flapped visibly through it.

Shading her eyes, Ang looked up at the third-story window. “There’s no way the sun can shine at that angle. Something’s wrong,” she said softly.

“Jesus,” Richie swore. “What could be happening?”

Ang shuddered. “I think she’s scared. Or pissed.”

“Pissed?” Richie asked, his mouth ran dry. “As in ‘Poltergeist’ pissed?” He had visions of all his belongings strewn around the room. Of furniture upended and shattered against the walls. He suddenly didn’t really want to go inside anymore.

Ang shook her head. “Most likely not. More likely, she’s scared. She’s probably reliving her death.”

Richie jerked his head back to Ang. “Reliving it?” He was horrified.

“Yes. Until her spirit is at rest, she’s doomed to relive the end her life, over and over.” Ang had tears in her eyes, and Richie felt like crying himself.

“That’s just awful,” he said, his deep voice thick with emotion. Then he had a thought that made his blood run cold. “Can she feel it? I mean how does -- ” Richie knew what he wanted to say, but didn’t have the slightest idea how to say it.

Ang knew. She knew more than she wanted to say. “Yes, she can feel everything; the physical and emotional pain. She doesn’t have a body, but her soul remembers. It remembers everything. And it hurts. The fear, the betrayal, but mostly the actual death.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It hurts so much.”

Richie looked at her, something in the tone of her voice catching his attention. “Ang, look at me,” he said. Richie waited until she did, then continued speaking. “These footprints she – they – leave…” He trailed off, almost afraid of the answer.

“I remember it too,” Ang said in a small voice. “All of it. The fear, the heartache, the pain, all of it. The memories become as real to me as my own until I can exercise them.”

Richie didn’t know what to say. “You mean now?”

Ang nodded. “I feel so scared, I’m ready to throw up. I feel a panic welling up inside me like a giant air bubble. I want to run, but I can’t move. I want to scream, but I just can’t.”

“Jesus,” Richie said, wrapping her in his strong arms, trying to protect her. “And the pain?” Richie’s voice was quiet, soothing in Ang’s ears.

She shook her head. “No, I don’t feel it yet. I think the bastard toyed with her first. I don’t know, but that’s what I feel. But it’s coming. It’s in there and it will come out.”

“Can you see him?”

“Not clearly. I see a vague shape: green eyes, wild hair; you saw what I drew. I have a sense of him being big and powerful. And strong, so strong just his presence is intimidating. Kirstin didn’t show me fully the man who killed her.” Ang slumped toward the car, and Richie reluctantly let her go. “Whoever he is, he’s long dead now. There’s no justice to be had for Kirstin. But maybe we can give her peace.”

Ang sighed, straightened from the car and started forward toward the house. Richie watched her take a few hesitant steps, then gasped when Ang’s whole body stiffened. “Angel Rose?” he said tentatively, and stepped toward her.

Ang felt the cold a moment before her head exploded with colors, sounds, and smells. She could smell the fall flowers that were native to this area. She could smell freshly carved pumpkins. The smell of pumpkins was overpowering. She could see flashes of green and purple, and there was breathing. Labored, evil breathing.

Angel Rose whipped around to look behind her. She saw a large man behind her, and started to run. Richie ran after her. Ang headed around the house and into the maze. She was so fast, Richie thought.

“ANGEL ROSE!” he called, but she didn’t respond. Almost immediately, Ang stumbled on the overgrown hedges, and cried out. She started to fall, but Richie caught her. “Get away from me!” she screamed, her eyes glazed over. “NO!! GEOFFREY!! HELP ME!!”

Richie held fast, though Ang was struggling against him. He could feel her heart pounding, and knew his was beating just as rapidly. She pounded at his chest, and was screaming and thrashing about, trying to hit him with her head. “Angel,” he said softly. “Angel Rose, come back to me.” He repeated that over and over, and eventually, Ang stopped fighting back.

Ang was in a panic. In her head, she was being chased by this large shadowy figure, and he was gaining on her. She stumbled on a root and started to fall, and suddenly he was upon her. No matter how she struggled, he was bigger and stronger than she was, so she could not get free. The panic was so complete that it took some time before she heard a familiar voice in her head calling her “Angel”. She concentrated on that voice, and gradually, the feeling of terror subsided and was replaced by a feeling of safety. Slowly she realized where and who she was. She was sprawled on the ground in Richie’s arms. His face was a mask of fear and confusion, and she all at once wanted to run away again.

“Richie?” she asked, and the tremor of unshed tears in her voice broke Richie’s heart.

“Right here, sweetheart. I’m right here.” He kissed her temple and rocked her, holding her close to his heart, not giving an inch. She sat there, her head pressed against Richie’s warm chest, listening to the erratic sound of his heartbeat, and cried.

There were no words of comfort he could offer Ang. Nothing he could do to take the pain away. He drew her closer into his embrace and kissed the top of her head. He held her for a long time, while she sobbed. She sobbed for Kirstin’s pain and anguish until her throat was raw and her eyes were burning. With a final squeeze, she looked up at Richie.

“Thank you,” she said to him.

Richie dropped a light kiss on her temple. “You don’t have to go in there,” he answered. “In fact, I don’t want you hurting anymore than you already are. You should go; I’ll figure something out.”

Ang took his hand. “It’s too late for that, Richie” she said. “Kirstin and I, we are already linked. I already feel what she feels, and she’s so afraid...we have to go to her.”