Page 81 of Dead Wolf Walking (Bad Moon Academy 1)
“Ready to see the library?” She swings a key chain around her finger and whistles as she walks toward a door. “You’re the first person I’ve ever shown this to.” Placing the flashlight under her chin, she works the key in.
“No one else has seen it?”
She shakes her head. “I found the keys hidden in one of the jars. I’ve never run into anyone else down here, so I’m pretty sure I’m the first student to find this.”
Twisting the knob, she grunts when the door refuses to budge and kicks the bottom of it with her foot. The door scrapes against the threshold before swinging wide. Morg grabs the flashlight from where her chin held it against her chest and points it at me. “Enter if you dare, muahahaha.”
Rolling my eyes, I walk toward her. “You’re going to have to do better than that,” I say.
A wide grin splits her lips. “Challenge accepted.” She takes a slow step into the room, making a gurgling noise in her throat.
“I hate you,” I say with a laugh. A gentle brush of frigid fingers across my cheek is all the warning I get before a cool arm bands around my shoulders when I take a step to follow her. Oh no. Now is not the time for my phantom friend to visit. I move again, but his other arm wraps around my stomach, pinning me against his frigid body.
Shift!
No, Joan. He hasn’t done anything to hurt me, and you can’t bite his phantom ass,I say.
He’s so strong for a spirit. Much stronger than anything I’ve ever encountered. Maybe he died down here… it would explain his sudden ability to render me immobile. Or at least, keeping me from following Morg. Testing a theory, I step back. He doesn’t stop me and the pressure at my shoulders and hips fades.
Weird.
“Raven? Are you coming?” Morg has stopped making the creepy noises and is staring at me. The light she’s pointing up casts shadows across the rest of her face, reminding me of when I used to go camping with my parents and the scary stories we’d tell.
Back then I didn’t know ghosts were real.
“Raven?” she asks again, voice rising an octave.
I try to take another step forward, but the phantom wraps his arms around me and holds tightly. The freezing touch seeps into my body, making my blood run cold. He won’t let me go in there.
“I…” Crap what can I tell her that doesn’t sound crazy?Oh, sorry. My phantom friend thinks your little room is creepy as fuck and refuses to let me take another step.Yeah, no. I’ll have to play this off another way.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. Do you want to go?” Morg walks to the door and leans her arm against it. “Your heart is going crazy.” She points the light toward me, and it blinds me.
Hopefully she’s not mad. I like her and can use a friend who isn’t a guy.
“Yeah, maybe we should go. I’m sorry.”
The light shifts as she turns and grabs the keys from the doorknob. She’s grinning when she faces me. “You did tell me I’d have to try harder.”
I step back and chuckle, noting the pressure leaving my body once again. He doesn’t want me to go in there. Why?
We make our way back to the main floor, and I glance over my shoulder when we reach the top of the stairs. My stomach tightens in warning, my natural instinct now on board with my phantom friend. Something isn’t right down there.
“Raven? Are you coming?” Morg is waiting for me a few steps away. I swear I see a flash of annoyance, but it’s gone so quick I must have imagined it. She blows out a breath as we walk down the hallway toward the grand staircase, trailing a finger along the dust covered wall and leaving a clean streak behind.
“We can still go watch a movie,” I say, nudging her with my arm. “The movie theater on the second floor is bound to be playing something good, right?”
“Yeah, they’re playingThe Exorcism of Emily Rosetonight. I guess since my spooky plans failed we can settle for a creepy movie.” She grins at me.
I roll my eyes. “Should we get snacks?”
“Uh, yeah. Obviously.” She starts laughing and tugs me along behind her. “Hurry, we’re going to miss the ads.”
“Can’t we fast forward through those since it’s not a real movie theater?” I ask with a groan.
“I think you’re the only person who’d want to,” she says, glancing over her shoulder with a wink. “The ads are the best part.”
I scoff. “That’s debatable.”
