Ghost Touch: A ghost suspense story (Touched by Afterlife Book 1) Read online

  GHOST TOUCH

  TOUCHED BY AFTERLIFE

  BOOK 1

  LA DRAGONI

  Copyright © 2015 by LA Dragoni

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design: GetCovers

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  About the Author

  ONE

  Her long, lean legs burned as she struggled toward the top of the impossibly steep hill. How many times had she climbed this hill as a young girl? It had never seemed so vertical. Dirt shifted, knocking her off balance. Rocks sliced at her bare feet. The top of the hill still seemed so far away. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was closer than before. Whimpering, she dug her fingers into the earth, struggling to move faster. Pain ripped through her scalp as her hair tangled in the scraggly branches of a sage bush. Was the scratching sound from the winter-dry shrub or was her pursuer that close behind her? Her lungs threatened to burst from the effort. Terror gripped her heart. With a whine, she continued to scramble upward.

  A deep cold wrapped around her ankle and doubled her fear. She collapsed to the ground, panting, and sobbing in defeat. He’d caught her.

  Struggling against his tight grip, she rolled to her back and kicked his shoulder, hoping to break his hold. Her stomach clenched when her foot slid as if she’d stepped on a banana peel. She groaned when her gaze met his empty, hollowed sockets. Translucent skin sagged from his bones like a macabre nightshirt. Patches of his hair had fallen out. Strands littered the shoulders of his moth-eaten shirt.

  He clutched the hem of her shirt in skeletal fingers. “We need you.” His raspy voice scraped her nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

  Tamara sat up with a start, panting. She mumbled a word that should have singed her lips. Outside the dog barked and the horse whinnied. She glared into the shadows of her room, searching for invisible guests. Each night for two weeks a different dead person stalked her every move, tore at her clothes, moaned in her ear.

  She assumed the nightmares were a by-product of grief. Though she couldn’t explain why they had taken six months after her mother’s death to manifest. Experts say everybody grieves differently. Welcome to her grief-fest.

  Running a hand through her sweat soaked hair, Tamara scanned the football banner and pom-poms hanging on her wall. Just last year she was a safe, innocent senior in high school with a healthy mom and no idea how physical, emotional pain could be.

  A coyote’s eerie howl pierced the night raising goosebumps along her arms. To her trained ear, it sounded as though it were on her property. On the back half of the four-acre ranch she’d inherited from her mom. Ruff’s wild barking faded off in the direction of the intruder. At least that was one unwanted visitor her dog could chase off. She wished he could do something about her nightmares.

  Tamara stared at the black, starless sky outside her window. The haunted howl of the coyote must have filtered into her dream, and her mind twisted the sound into her latest ghoul. She scrubbed a palm against her forehead trying to erase the memory of scrambling up the hill behind her barn. The dream warping the familiar rocky surface that she used to build play castles on, into a never-ending struggle.

  “It was just a dream.”

  Her heart rate slowed to normal again. It was 1:35 AM. If she could fall back to sleep right away, she might not feel the impact of her latest nightly adventure at work tomorrow.

  “Or, today.” With a groan, she settled back under the covers.

  A loud bang pulled Tamara out of her slumber. For a second time that night she sat bolt upright, feeling disoriented. Looking at the bright red digital display of her alarm clock, she was surprised to find not even ten minutes had passed.

  The desperate whinny of her horse, Georgia, echoed in the room.

  “What now?” Tamara kneeled on her pillow and pressed her face against the cool glass of the window, squinting across the dark lawn at the big barn. A flash of Georgia’s ghostly white main and tail disappear into the inky night beyond the barn.

  “What the heck?”

  Because of the cold temperature forecasted, Tamara had put the mare in her stall for the night, so how and why was she out? Ruff crouched a few feet in front of the barn, growling aggressively at the doors. Fingers shaking, Tamara grabbed her jeans from the floor and tugged them on. She grabbed a shotgun from the gun safe and steadied her breathing before loading it. After calling the police, she set up watch at the window while she waited for them to arrive.

  Fifteen minutes later a swath of yellow light swept across the yard. Tamara jogged through the house and pulled the door open. The scent of juniper hung heavy in the cold damp air. The porch creaked when she stepped outside. Ruff, ran onto the porch and stood by her side as the policemen approached from the driveway.

  “Sorry to bother you, officers, but I think there’s someone in my barn.” She met them at the top of the long gravel driveway. The barn was just visible in the spill of yellow from the patrol car’s headlights.

  “Not a problem, miss. Would you mind putting that rifle away,” the larger of the two policemen said.

  “A girl’s gotta protect herself.” Tamara slid the rifle through the gap between the porch and the railing and then buried her cold hands into the front pockets on her jeans.

  “Why don’t you wait here while we look around?” The large policeman said.

  She closed Ruff into his run and waited against the trunk of an apple tree. Flashlight beams swept back and forth inside the dark building as the police searched. They were back outside after only a few minutes.

  “There’s no one inside, ma’am,” the smaller policeman said as he tucked his flashlight into a holder on his belt.

  “Then who let Georgia out?” Tamara gnawed her lip while she considered what to do next. The three of them all swung their gazes to stare into the pasture where Georgia stood against the far fence. “Humor me and let me look with you.”

  Inside the barn, Tamara ran her hand over the damaged latch on Georgia’s stall.

  “Something had to have spooked her for her to have kicked her way out.” Tamara scanned the interior of the barn to see if anything else looked out of place. She searched the small tack room, the utility room and peered under workbenches and behind shelves.

  “I don’t understand. Unless whoever it was ran off when Georgia broke out of her stall.”

  The officers walked around the outside of the barn to make sure no one was hiding in the immediate area. Tamara eyed the hill behind the building, the memory of her dream too fresh. Suddenly there were too many places on her property where someone could hide. She hugged herself, rubbing the chill from her arms.

  As she accompanied the officers back to their car, she apologized for calling them out in the middle of the night.

  “That’s what we’re here for, ma’am.” The large officer dipped his chin and slid behind the steering wheel.

  The taillights disappeared down the driveway and Tamara approached the pasture.

  “Georgia. Come here, girl.” She clicked her tongue, but her horse only gazed at her from the far side of the pasture. “Still spooked?”

  Though she was anxious to crawl back into bed, Tamara climbed the stile and trudged across the pasture. “It’s okay girl. Whoever was here is gone.”

  Georgia pressed her nose into Tamara’s hand.

  “Did you hurt yourself?” Tamara ran a hand down each of Georgia’s legs. “You okay? Gonna stay out here tonight? Even in this cold weather?”

  Eyeing her horse for any signs of chill, Tamara decided to let her be. She had a nice thick coat to keep her warm. It was Tamara who didn’t like the idea of her horse standing in the cold when there was a perfectly good stall available.

  With one last neck rub. Tamara said goodnight and stepped carefully across the dark pasture. Before going into the house, she let Ruff out of his run. He trotted straight over to the barn and sat facing the doors. Ears perked.

  “There’s nothing in there, boy.” Tamara reassured herself as much as her dog. “But I feel better with you on watch.”

  Ruff looked at her over his shoulder and flopped his long fluffy tail on the grass once.

  Despite having checked the barn herself, Tamara remained unsettled. Would she ever know what happened tonight?

  TWO

  The newest face in Tamara’s latest nightmare was about to be revealed when a loud SLAM woke her. Still anxious f
rom the events of the night before, Tamara had slept lightly all night. She pulled the shotgun from where she’d tucked it under her bed, slipped into a pair of sneakers and headed out to the barn. The hairs on the back of her neck rose when she found Ruff cowering and whimpering in front of the doors where he’d sat menacingly the night before. She hesitated as she drew up next to him. A faint blue light seeped through the crack between the large doors. There were no windows on the front of the building, so there was no way she could know who was in there or where they were. Even though it would be embarrassing, she decided to call the police again.

  As she turned toward the house, the large barn doors swung open. Her heart kicked into high gear. She leveled the shotgun, pointing it straight at the doors as they glided open on their own accord, hoping the sight of the gun would be enough to scare the intruder away.

  An unnatural blue-white light spilled outward, making her squint. Blinding bright in the center, it faded to murky shadows in the corners. Tamara’s heart all but stopped when shapes developed within the bright center. A crowd of people surged forward, scattering in all directions across her yard.

  There were so many. Panic filled Tamara while she tried to figure out what to do, how to defend herself against so many. Who were all these people? Why had they been in her barn? Why is that man digging?

  “Hey, stop!” she yelled.

  A woman in a torn red dress stumbled up the hill reminding Tamara of herself in last night’s dream. The woman’s long blond hair streamed behind her in the windless night. She continually glanced over her shoulder, a terrified expression gnarling her beautiful face, though no one pursued her.

  Then a single man sauntered forward, his attention intent on Tamara. The bright light behind him made it impossible for her to make out any detail, but his manner seemed equal parts commanding and relaxed. Her heart fluttered madly, and she felt the muzzle of the rifle dip toward the ground as she considered fleeing. A flat, wide-brimmed cowboy hat sat straight on his head. Well-worn leather chaps covered his bowed legs. Strange clicking noises accompanied him across the lawn. As he drew closer his image sharpened. When Tamara saw his face, she lowered the gun barrel. “Sheesh, I am dreaming.”

  She looked into the skinless face of her latest nightmare.

  “Ma’am, I can assure you, this is no dream.” His bony jaw flapped comically as he spoke. He tipped his hat in greeting before his bare-boned hand pushed the dusty hat back on his skull. His vest was black cowhide and his boots were scuffed and muddy. Each movement made his clothes flap loosely on his skeleton.

  “You’re right. This would be a nightmare, not a dream,” Tamara corrected.

  “I beg your pardon, ma’am, but you’re wide awake. We’ve been haunting your place here, for a couple weeks now, trying to get your attention. We need your help.”

  Impeccable manners and a velvet voice conflicted wildly with his garish image, convincing Tamara further this was just another of her nightly horrors. When the scents of earth and mold struck her, she realized she’d never smelled anything in her dreams previously. The night before, when her hair tangled in the bush, she should have smelled sage. Instead, she smelled nothing. Fear danced down her spine as she began to accept the horror might be real. She glanced around the yard, teaming with people in various stages of decay. When her attention returned to the cowboy in front of her, she saw another ghoulish man appear from the unnatural light of the barn.

  “You’re off your trolley, Cal, she ain’t gonna help us. I’ve been telling ya all along, she ain’t gonna help us.” The hissing voice of this skeleton snaked its way around Tamara’s throat and rendered her speechless. He prowled back and forth behind Cal, his bones methodically clicking together like a second hand counting down time. It seemed the first skeleton was the only thing keeping the other from pouncing on her.

  Where Cal’s clothing looked like he’d stepped out of the Wild West, this new ghoul seemed to be a decade or two more modern. He wore threadbare street clothes. An oversized coat hung open over a tattered button up shirt. A pair of suspenders held up a baggy pair of rumpled slacks. A newsboy cap perched on his skull.

  Tamara shuddered. His territorial stalking, his mocking tones all screamed violence.

  “Nah, there’s something different about this one, Troit,” Cal replied.

  Troit growled, his empty stare locked on Tamara. “She ain’t no different. She scrammed from us, screamin’ and cryin’, just like the rest.”

  Tamara finally found her voice. “Look, what is it you want from me?”

  Troit cocked his head sideways the inky black sockets bore into her. Though her skin crawled, she refused to show the fear he instilled in her.

  Cal tipped his head in polite acknowledgement. “We need someone to help us crossover. Until we cross we’re bound to the void. Allowed out each night only to haunt and torment the living.”

  “You don’t seem very scary,” she observed.

  “Oh, I wish you hadn’t said that, ma’am,” Cal said.

  A stream of souls poured from the barn. Black and gray and green mottled together in a pulsing river of coldness. Sometimes a distorted face, bulging eyes, gaping mouth would be visible in the writhing mass, but mostly it looked like a ribbon of sludge. They screeched and howled in high-pitched voices making Tamara drop the shotgun and slam her hands over her ears. Ruff yelped and ran off into the night. The apparitions whirled from the barn toward the sky and then arced back down and swooshed past Tamara, swirling around her like an eddy. Intense cold wafted off them leaving her weak. She struggled against the dread growing within her.

  “Okay, I was wrong,” she panted. “Stop...please.”

  The whirling dervish of souls retreated into the barn. Tamara hugged herself. Her knees shook and she concentrated on relinquishing the feeling of dread that had seeped into her bones.

  “How many are in there?” she asked.

  “Hundreds,” Cal shrugged. “Thousands.”

  “I can’t help you. I don’t know anything about crossing over.”

  “You’re hep to someone who does,” Troit mumbled.

  Cal hissed at Troit, “Too soon.”

  Tamara squinted, looking from one skeleton to the other. Their voices barely penetrated the fog left by the attack. Is that why she was having difficulty understanding them? Cal’s rigid posture told her she didn’t want to ask.

  Troit muttered as he slunk back into the unnatural light. Tamara leaned forward hoping to hear what he was saying, but his speech was too difficult to understand. She glanced around, surprised to see that all the ghosts were filing back into the barn. The blond in the red dress stumbled down the hill, still looking over her shoulder at her phantom pursuer, as she stumbled back inside the building.

  Then all the ghosts were gone. All except Cal. Tamara felt oddly uncomfortable. Almost as if she were a schoolgirl left alone with the boy who had a crush on her.

  “What is all this?” She waved a hand at the light spilling through the open doorway. “What can I possibly do?”

  “I’m not sure. But I’m out of time for tonight.” His thumbs were hooked in his belt loops. He stepped backward toward the barn. “Will you meet me tomorrow night?”

  Tamara suppressed the urge to laugh hysterically. Was he asking her on a date? “I don’t see as I have much choice. I’d see you in my nightmares anyway, right?”

  Cal nodded and backed into the barn. With a tip of his hat, he dissipated into the bright light and the barn went dark.

  Tamara blinked to adjust her eyes. She breathed deeply through her mouth and nose to steady her rapid heartbeat. The barn doors stood closed. No sign of the light, the ghosts—of anything she had seen.

  “I’m completely losing my mind.”

  A strange heaviness settled in her body, and she was eager to get inside the house. Tamara whistled for Ruff. The spirits never even touched her, yet she’d been left feeling like she belonged in a grave beside them. Too freaked out to be alone, she coaxed Ruff into the house with her and they curled up together in her bed. He was an outdoor dog—and smelled like one—but she’d never get to sleep if he wasn’t by her side.