Read Online The Awakening of Sunshine Girl (The Haunting of Sunshine Girl) by Paige McKenzie - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Paige McKenzie
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may look terrifying, but she needs my help.
I open my eyes, and there she is standing before me, her former appearance almost entirely dissolved in harsh chemical burns. I can’t make out her eyes as I reach out and touch her to help her move on. An amazing ball of light appears, and an overwhelming sense of peace washes over me, so much stronger than anything I’ve experienced before. I stand in silence for a moment as this woman’s spirit dissolves into the air.
I jump at the sound of Aidan dropping my duffle bag at the foot of the stairs. I turn around and make my way back toward the front door.
“I never go in there.” Aidan nods in the direction of the room I just left. Yeah, I noticed, I think to myself. If Aidan saw the spirit, he’s not letting on.
“Looks like no one ever does. Not that I could see much,” I add quickly. “Do any of the lights work?” I’m starting to understand that this is how luiseach lives are. One moment you’re helping a spirit, the next you’re talking about what’s for dinner. Or, in this case, what lights work.
“There’s a generator out back. But it’s not big enough to supply the whole house with power.” That’s not surprising—this house is enormous. “Most of the rooms on the second floor have electricity.” He nods at the stairs.
I guess if you can only have power in part of the house, you’d want it to be upstairs. That’s where the bedrooms usually are, where you go when it’s dark.
Or, apparently, just where I’ll be going when it’s dark, as Aidan adds, “The second floor is all yours.”
“I have the whole floor to myself?” That kind of sounds like a line out of one of those old books. The poor orphan girl taken to the mysterious mansion that she explores until she uncovers all of its secrets. Like Mary in The Secret Garden or Catherine in Northanger Abbey. Except I’m not an orphan. Right now I’m actually less of an orphan than I’ve ever been. And I have ghosts.
“My room is here on the first floor, off the kitchen.” Aidan nods toward the darkness behind the stairs. “Technically speaking, that’s the servants’ quarters, but I find that it’s the most efficient place to sleep. We haven’t had servants here for nearly a century. It went out of fashion, you know.”
I certainly don’t know anything about the fashion of having servants. Besides, I’m too distracted by the fact that Aidan just said nearly a century, like it wasn’t even all that long of a time. Just how old is he exactly? Victoria was sixty-seven years old and looked at least half that age—and she’d been Aidan’s student.
“There are another couple of bedrooms right beside my own, but I thought you’d want more privacy than that.” He sounds almost shy, like the needs of a teenage girl are a total mystery to him. He doesn’t offer to carry my bag upstairs. Maybe he wants me to know the second floor is mine and mine alone, a totally private sanctuary. Maybe he got the generator for me too.
For the second time today I’m tempted to hug him, but I stop myself, rubbing sweaty palms together instead. The constant chill that permeated the space just outside the house—the presence of spirits—doesn’t seem to reach the air inside the mansion. But I actually miss the chill. We’ve only been inside a few minutes, and I’m already sweating (not that I want to be visited byanother spirit to cool down). My clothes are sticking to my skin, and I yank at the collar of my T-shirt, feeling wrinkled and wrung out. The exhaustion from all the hours we spent traveling is finally kicking in.
Aidan removes his suit jacket and folds it over one arm. His collar is still sharply folded around his neck, but even his perfect and straight dark hair looks a little bit wilted. Maybe he’s tired too. “I’m sure you’d like to go upstairs and get settled. Get some rest after our travels.”
Gingerly I step onto the first stair. This definitely qualifies as a grand
I open my eyes, and there she is standing before me, her former appearance almost entirely dissolved in harsh chemical burns. I can’t make out her eyes as I reach out and touch her to help her move on. An amazing ball of light appears, and an overwhelming sense of peace washes over me, so much stronger than anything I’ve experienced before. I stand in silence for a moment as this woman’s spirit dissolves into the air.
I jump at the sound of Aidan dropping my duffle bag at the foot of the stairs. I turn around and make my way back toward the front door.
“I never go in there.” Aidan nods in the direction of the room I just left. Yeah, I noticed, I think to myself. If Aidan saw the spirit, he’s not letting on.
“Looks like no one ever does. Not that I could see much,” I add quickly. “Do any of the lights work?” I’m starting to understand that this is how luiseach lives are. One moment you’re helping a spirit, the next you’re talking about what’s for dinner. Or, in this case, what lights work.
“There’s a generator out back. But it’s not big enough to supply the whole house with power.” That’s not surprising—this house is enormous. “Most of the rooms on the second floor have electricity.” He nods at the stairs.
I guess if you can only have power in part of the house, you’d want it to be upstairs. That’s where the bedrooms usually are, where you go when it’s dark.
Or, apparently, just where I’ll be going when it’s dark, as Aidan adds, “The second floor is all yours.”
“I have the whole floor to myself?” That kind of sounds like a line out of one of those old books. The poor orphan girl taken to the mysterious mansion that she explores until she uncovers all of its secrets. Like Mary in The Secret Garden or Catherine in Northanger Abbey. Except I’m not an orphan. Right now I’m actually less of an orphan than I’ve ever been. And I have ghosts.
“My room is here on the first floor, off the kitchen.” Aidan nods toward the darkness behind the stairs. “Technically speaking, that’s the servants’ quarters, but I find that it’s the most efficient place to sleep. We haven’t had servants here for nearly a century. It went out of fashion, you know.”
I certainly don’t know anything about the fashion of having servants. Besides, I’m too distracted by the fact that Aidan just said nearly a century, like it wasn’t even all that long of a time. Just how old is he exactly? Victoria was sixty-seven years old and looked at least half that age—and she’d been Aidan’s student.
“There are another couple of bedrooms right beside my own, but I thought you’d want more privacy than that.” He sounds almost shy, like the needs of a teenage girl are a total mystery to him. He doesn’t offer to carry my bag upstairs. Maybe he wants me to know the second floor is mine and mine alone, a totally private sanctuary. Maybe he got the generator for me too.
For the second time today I’m tempted to hug him, but I stop myself, rubbing sweaty palms together instead. The constant chill that permeated the space just outside the house—the presence of spirits—doesn’t seem to reach the air inside the mansion. But I actually miss the chill. We’ve only been inside a few minutes, and I’m already sweating (not that I want to be visited byanother spirit to cool down). My clothes are sticking to my skin, and I yank at the collar of my T-shirt, feeling wrinkled and wrung out. The exhaustion from all the hours we spent traveling is finally kicking in.
Aidan removes his suit jacket and folds it over one arm. His collar is still sharply folded around his neck, but even his perfect and straight dark hair looks a little bit wilted. Maybe he’s tired too. “I’m sure you’d like to go upstairs and get settled. Get some rest after our travels.”
Gingerly I step onto the first stair. This definitely qualifies as a grand
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