The Ghost Host: Episode 1 (The Ghost Host Series), Page 3

  Call me and I’ll do what I can to explain and answer your questions. I’m free after school.

  Echo

  I top off the message by adding my phone number and hit send before Holden quits arguing with his cousin and tries to stop me. Sliding the phone back across the table to him, I pretend to be absorbed in my lunch. The grunt I hear from him a few minutes later when the argument fizzles is what alerts me to the fact that he checked my response.

  Me having personal contact with someone associated with the show is a big no-no in his book. It opens me up to a whole host of issues, least of which is clingy family members looking for more contact with relatives. I know that. For some reason, I just felt like I needed to talk to this guy. Something in Madeline’s message to him is important…maybe even dangerous…and I can’t just walk away from that.

  “Echo, what is this message about?” he demands.

  After the day I’ve had, it’s hard not to snap at him. I know he’s only worried about me after the last time I got too involved with a ghost’s problems. The worry in his eyes melts away much of my bad mood. Even still, I don’t really have an answer for him.

  “I don’t know, Holden. I just…I think this is important.”

  He sighs, but doesn’t argue. Along with my ghostly talents, I seem to have better-than-the-average-bear instincts like my mom. She can judge a person’s character with one glance and is never wrong. I’m not quite as good as her, but my instincts are nothing to sneeze at. Holden knows this. Relenting, he says, “Why couldn’t you let me handle this? Whatever’s behind the message, I don’t want you getting involved.”

  “It won’t be like last time.”

  “How do you know that?” Holden’s glare shows just how ticked off he really is.

  Reaching across the table, I pat his arm reassuringly. He stays stiff in his annoyance. “I just do, okay? He seemed…freaked out, scared almost. I think we need to help him.”

  “This is my job, Echo,” he argues. “I handle the fans and any requests. I keep them from getting close enough to hurt you. It’s not a game. If last night wasn’t reminder enough, how about the day at the ball park when that ghost came after you while we were all sitting on the top row of bleachers? If Zara and I hadn’t been there to catch you when you fainted…”

  “I know. Trust me, I know how dangerous ghosts and their families can be. This is different. I can’t explain it, but it is. When Malachi calls, I’m going to answer.”

  Holden’s eyes narrow, but worry bunches his shoulders. “Who says he’s even going to call?”

  “He’ll call,” I say. When Holden pops his mouth open to argue, I beat him to it. “Madeline’s message spooked him. He wants to know if it was real. You read the message. Did he sound like one of those crazies begging to speak with their dead aunt or whatever?”

  “No,” he says with a huff, “but that doesn’t mean you need to be talking to him.”

  He seems so petulant, I can’t help laughing. “Holden, you’re starting to sound like you’re jealous or something.”

  His only response is to roll his eyes. That only makes me laugh even more, which is actually a huge relief. Holden and I have never been anything more than friends, siblings practically. People have often mistaken our relationship for something more, but we’ve never even had the inclination to try anything other than friends. I only tease him about it when his big brother instincts get to be a little too much.

  “Seriously,” I say, “you’re making a big deal out of this.”

  “You kinda are,” Zara agrees dutifully.

  I grab my backpack and pick up my tray as the lunch bells rings. “We’re both going to be late for class if you don’t drop it. Chill out. I’m going to go drill some holes in something.”

  I give them both a quick wave and head for my next class, wood shop. Zara and Holden both gave me weird looks when I told them I signed up for wood shop at the beginning of the year. In general, I’m not a crafty person. Sewing, painting, pipe cleaners, glue, it all becomes a mess in my hands. I can build a pretty mean box, though.

  The serving tray I’m working on is a little more elegant, but trickier as well. As I’m fishing the measurements and notes I took last class out of my backpack, I feel my phone buzz against my binder. Squatting down, I take it out and pull up a text from a number I don’t recognize.

  Not sure what time zone you’re in to guess at school hours. Text me when you can talk. Have a million questions for you. Just to warn you. Malachi.

  I let my phone fall back into my bag and sit down with my notes. Clearly, Holden was wrong about this guy not calling, but was he right about this being a mistake?

  4: Ghosts and All

  (Malachi)

  “Dude, what is your problem today?” Kyran demands. He leans to the right, trying to see around me and guide his game avatar across the screen. “If you freakin’ walk in front of the TV one more time while I’m playing and make me get shot again, I swear I will duct tape you to a chair!”

  Chucking a pillow at his head, I take my pacing behind the couch to appease him. I look at my phone again. 7:15. Why hasn’t she called yet? Telling myself she could easily be on the West coast, which would put her three hours behind me, doesn’t help curb my edginess. Ever since I watched that video last night, I haven’t been able to get it off my mind. Where did she get all that stuff about my great grandma? Sure, some of it seemed completely made up…but not all of it.

  I’ve never really considered the existence or nonexistence of ghosts before last night. Why would I? The bit about that Echo girl “talking” to my great grandma was spooky enough. Those last few seconds before the video cut off…I shake my head. I don’t even know what that was. Either she’s the best actress I’ve ever seen, or she was honestly terrified. I literally felt a chill when I watched it.

  Kyran and I watched the video together, but it clearly didn’t affect him in quite the same way. I get it. Mention of the old estate got to him, but he’s too absorbed in getting killed right now to think about it much. Still, I want to chuck another pillow at his head for being such a tool.

  He must sense my irritation building behind him, because he looks over his shoulder and says, “Admit it, you’re mainly stuck on the ghost show because Echo is hot. You don’t even believe in ghosts.”

  “Shut it, Kyran,” I growl.

  He laughs at me when I go back to my pacing, ignoring him. Not that I’ll admit it, but he’s not exactly wrong. I’m freaked out by the whole thing, but part of my preoccupation certainly does have something to do with Echo.

  I’ve seen plenty of girls with red hair, but not like hers. It reminded me of those books my older sisters used to love, the one with the orphan girl in Canada who got called Carrots because her hair was so red. Anne of something? Green Gables, that’s it. I haven’t thought about that book in years. There were even a couple movies they made me watch with them about a dozen times. Echo’s hair is like that, and her freckled skin and bright blue eyes are…intriguing.

  Shaking the thought away, I remind myself that she’s a high school student. Not to mention, she lives in another state. As much as she caught my attention, this is about the message. Kyran may have been able to shrug it off after a while, but there’s something about it that won’t let me dismiss it so easily.

  “I’m goin’ outside for some air,” I tell Kyran as I head to the door of the apartment. “If I’m not back before we need to head out to meet Cerise, come find me.”

  He mumbles something incoherent and I escape to the hall. I’m halfway out of the building when my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. I’m in such a hurry to yank it out I nearly drop it.

  “Hello?”

  Silence.

  “Um, is this Malachi?”

  “Yeah, sorry. Should’ve said that when I answered.” I rush the last few steps out of the building and head for the parking lot. “Is this Echo?”

  I swear she hesitates. I can’t really explain why, but my ch
est constricts. Is she going to come clean and tell me it was all a hoax?

  “Yes,” she says slowly. “You said you have questions?”

  Leaning against the front grill of my Jeep, I take a deep breath. “About a million of them.”

  She’s quiet again for a few seconds. When she finally speaks, it’s not at all what I’m expecting. “I’m going to answer your questions, but first, you have to answer mine. Okay?”

  “Huh? Like on your show?” Was it a mistake to contact her? It seems like a weird request, like she’s just playing with me for her own entertainment, but at the same time, she seems nervous about even talking to me. I shake my head. “Why do you want me to answer questions?”

  I can almost picture her twisting her red hair, or biting her lip. It’s an oddly distracting thought. Her voice banishes my wondering. “It’s for my own…protection.”

  “Protection from what?” I don’t even know where she is or how to contact her other than by phone. The email wasn’t even to her.

  “Normally, I don’t get involved with people who get messages. My friend, Holden, he’s the one who deals with all of this stuff. For good reason.” She pauses. “I’ve had bad experiences in the past with people who can’t let go of loved ones. By extension, they sort of, well, attach themselves to me, hoping for more than what I can give them.”

  Oh. Part of me doesn’t want to believe any of this is real. It’s hard to deny the honesty and fear in her voice. Maybe she is just an incredible actress. I realize I’m willing to take the risk. “Echo, look, I adored my great grandma, but I didn’t call you to reach out to her again. I just need to know whether all of this is real, whether her message really meant something.”

  “You’re willing to answer my questions then?” Echo asks.

  I scrub my free hand through my hair and shrug. “I guess so. Fire away.”

  “Okay,” Echo says slowly. “We’ll take turns. I’ll ask you something so I can get to know you a little better and figure out whether or not you’re a wacko. Then you get to ask a question. Sound good?”

  She still seems hesitant, but I laugh. “I guess me telling you I’m not a wacko won’t hold an awful lot of water.”

  “Wackos can be tricksy.”

  “Is that a Lord of the Rings reference?” I ask with a laugh.

  Echo chuckles, a small amount of anxiety disappearing from her voice. “Ghost Host, nerd, who would have guessed those two would go together, right?”

  “Being a Tolkien fan hardly makes you a nerd.”

  “I’m also into chemistry, and by association, math. And I’m a huge gamer. It’s like the trifecta of weird nerd girl membership.”

  I still have my reservations about this whole thing, but I have to admit I am really starting to enjoy this girl. “Are you kidding me? An intelligent, exotic female who knows the difference between RPG and FPS games? Not to mention, you’ve got the whole redhead thing going for you. You’re like every guy’s dream girl, Carrots.”

  Full-belly laughter erupts from the phone. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Echo gasps between bouts of laughter. “Did you seriously just call me Carrots? An Anne of Green Gables reference? Really? How do you even know about that? I’ve never met a guy who’s actually read those books.”

  “I haven’t, not cover to cover anyway,” I admit, “but my sisters loved them when they were younger. Made me listen to them read and watch the movies with them about a hundred times.”

  Still chuckling a little, Echo says, “Malachi, you just made my day. Really. I needed that.”

  “My pleasure.” Strangely, it makes me happy to think I made her day a little better, but I’m still hung up on the reason behind this conversation. “So, did you have a question for me?”

  “Where are you from?” Echo asks. “I love your accent.”

  Laughing, I say, “I hate to tell you, but you’re the one with the accent.” Echo giggles at that, which is nice to hear. “I’m from Georgia. You?”

  “California.”

  “That’s why it took you so long to call me.”

  A small, nervous sigh slips across the line, but it’s miles more relaxed than when she first called. “Okay, next question.” She pauses. “What’s your favorite video game? I assume you play after your comment about role playing games and first person shooters.”

  I can’t help grinning at her question. She really did know what I was talking about. Plenty of girls pretend to be gamers just because they play Candy Crush on their phones. “I like a good role playing game like Diablo or Elder Scrolls, but I get sucked into first person shooters more often, mainly when I’m playing online or with my roommate.”

  “Roommate?” Echo asks.

  I’m tempted to tell her it’s my turn to ask something, but I kinda don’t mind putting off getting answers to my questions suddenly. “Yeah, Kyran. We share an apartment near the campus.”

  “So, you’re in college? Which one?”

  “I’m a freshman at Georgia State.”

  “Cool,” Echo says. “Well, I guess it’s your turn to ask a question.”

  I’m not sure I can really explain it, but I know whatever she tells me is going to be the truth. That’s slightly terrifying. “Well, I guess my first question is, can you really talk to ghosts?”

  “I don’t talk to them. I see them, but they never speak. The writing you saw me do on the video, that’s how they communicate with me.”

  “What about what happened at the end. That was something else.” That more than anything convinced me to try and get in contact with Echo.

  Sighing, she seems reluctant to discuss it, but she promised she would answer my questions, and she does. “That certainly wasn’t planned. I don’t know who that was, but very few ghosts can physically influence objects, and to do it takes a lot of energy, and usually a lot of anger. That’s what killed the feed. Our camera closest to the rogue ghost is toast.”

  I don’t question what she said about anger. It was pretty obvious from her reaction that whatever wrote the last message was not friendly.

  “My turn again?” Echo questions. She pauses a moment for me to agree, then powers on with her next question. “How many siblings do you have?”

  “Three older sisters.”

  Echo laughs. “So you’re the baby? No wonder your sisters were able to make you watch Anne of Green Gables. What are their names?”

  She has no idea. I won’t admit it out loud, but my sisters had me playing Barbies, acting as their mannequin for dress up, and on more than one occasion my dad came home to find me with painted nails and covered in makeup from their practice sessions. Shaking my head, I answer her question. “Hannah Louise, Katie Lynn, and Angelica May, in order from oldest to youngest. Don’t let Angel May’s name fool ya, she’s the toughest and bossiest of the bunch.”

  “Sounds like my little sisters,” Echo grumbles.

  “Are you the oldest, then?”

  Sighing, Echo says, “Yep. Twin, eight-year-old little sisters, Mable and Azalea. I love them, but they drive me insane most days.”

  “I can imagine.” Figuring it’s time for me to get another answer, I swallow my lingering apprehension and ask. “So, the message from my great grandmother…it’s real? She really wants me to go back to the old estate and look in the toy closet? Why?”

  Echo is quiet for a long time. I almost speak up and ask if she’s still there, but fear holds me back. Finally, I hear her take in a deep breath. “The message is real, Malachi. I know I can’t prove that, but she wanted you to do what she asked. I don’t know why, and I can’t tell you any more than what she wrote. All I can say is that it felt important. It also felt…dangerous.”

  She says that last word like maybe it will shock me or surprise me. It doesn’t. Going back to the estate, there’s no question in my mind it would be dangerous, if not physically, in other ways. There’s a reason I haven’t been back there since I was young enough to play with old die cast trucks and plastic army men. If the
bizarre nature of the show last night and the mention of my great grandma hadn’t been enough to spook me on their own, the simple mention of the estate and me going back practically turned my blood to ice.

  “Are you going to do what she asked?” Echo asks quietly.

  Running my free hand through my hair, I can only shake my head. “I don’t know. I can’t do it right now because of finals, even if I believed all of this and wanted to act on the message.”

  The line goes quiet again. It stays quiet. I can’t even hear the whisper of Echo’s breathing like I could before. I worry she hung up, but a quick check of my phone says the call is still active. Beginning to wonder what I said to make her go silent, it doesn’t take more than a few seconds to figure it out.

  “Echo, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean I don’t believe you…”

  “You don’t, though, and that’s okay,” she says quickly. “I don’t expect you to just take my word on all of this. And I can’t prove it. Why would you believe me? I could be a total wackadoo for all you know.”

  “Wackadoo?” I say with a chuckle. “Is that even a real word?”

  “Sure it is,” Echo argues, “as real as Forerunners, anyway.”

  I have to pull the phone away from my face so she doesn’t hear me laughing at her Halo reference. Whether she communicates with ghosts or not, she is by far the coolest girl I’ve ever met. Bringing the phone up to my ear, I force myself to revert back to a more serious demeanor. “Look, I don’t know if I can say I completely believe everything you’ve told me, but there’s too much in that message you should never have known about for me to just pass it off as nothing.”

  Echo doesn’t say anything for a long time. I worry I’ve offended her until she eventually speaks up. “Look, Malachi, I have to get going. My sisters have soccer practice, but if you want to talk about this more, or ask me questions, you’re welcome to call any time. All I can tell you is that whatever is in that closet, your great grandmother thought it was important you had it. Maybe it’s just a trinket, maybe it’s something more. I don’t know. Just promise…”