In Vendetta House (The Vendetta Series #1)

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

I sleep until four in the morning before my ears shatter.

"Holy f-" I jolt upright and press my hands tightly against the side of my head. My eyes blink rapidly to try clear the fuzz.

I yawn. It figures a screaming spirit wouldn't have a schedule. Sliding out of my blankets, I catch myself before I drop to the hardwood floor completely. My arms are shaking from cold as I creep to the armoire. Sasha is laying peacefully on her fluffy pillow, unaware of the shrill noise I could hear.

Ugh. Why me.

It's still dark outside, and the only light is the moon. The place would be crawling again in a couple of hours, and according to Jesse, the spirit would always stop before sunrise.

Cecily would always stop before sunrise.

I slip on a new jacket, leaving the one I wore yesterday hanging by the door. If I had anything to do with it, the jacket will have a permanent place on those scissors. Sasha mumbles something in her sleep and turns over. I freeze, clutching the armoire door and wincing. The more I linger, the louder Cecily gets.

Sasha goes back to her steady breathing, snores vibrating out her throat. I peer at her once, then tip-toe out in thick, soundless socks.

I yawn again in the hallway, and make my way up in a hurry. My feet move fast, sprinting with quick, light steps. Cecily is nowhere to be seen, and if I was completely honest, I didn't want to run into her spirit. All I'd see is her causing her own death and wonder how much pain she went through to sever her tongue. Does she remember begging her brother to give up revenge? I wonder where James is now.

"Stop it," I mutter to myself.

When I manage to pick out the bookshelf in the dark, I try remember what Jesse did to open up the trapdoor. My clumsy fingers feel around behind the books. All my fingertips brush against is a cold, plastic board. Did he say to slide it? I shove at the edge and it doesn't budge. I try the other side and get the same result. The screaming slams at my eardrums constantly.

«Jesse!» I try yelling in my head, out into the open. «How do you open this thing?»

I continue picking and pushing at the board for an agonizingly long time, before he finally responds:

«Push it up, then slide to the right. Jiggle a little if necessary.»

I huff and shove the board upwards. It moves an inch and I slide it to the right: probably jiggling it more excessively than necessary. Finally, it reveals the switch. I flip it and drag the board back, then clamber onto the rope ladder.

"You couldn't have responded faster?" I grumble, scrambling in and closing the trapdoor.

He shoots a lopsided grin at me from his seat by the window.

"I'm only figuring out mind talking as well, princess. You're the first telepath other than my beautiful self I've met."

It's gotten to the point where I'm not even offended by his obnoxiousness anymore. Tired and sighing, I drag myself over to him.

"Have you tried talking to others without the power?" I ask.

"Of course," he says, amused. "But all that happens is they get a little confused and do what I tell them to."

I perch on the seat. "What do you mean?"

Jesse turns to face me, his hair tousled from the wind. I resist the urge to reach over and smooth that wayward piece down. "One-way mind telepathy is like compulsion. If the two communicating don't both have the power, the one on the receiving end has an urge to do what the other is communicating."