~ Kira Sutherland ~
After a near fatal accident (and getting cheated on by her 'boyfriend'), and beating up the lead cheerleader (with whom the boyfriend cheated...), and being labeled as having 'issues' in her school because she, uhm, sees ghosts, Kira is left with two choices:
1. Continue her 'therapy' (where she's told the ghost is a hallucination and also gets her legs ogled too often...)
Or
2. Go to Starkfield Academy, a boarding school for "Crazies and Convicts" (as the social media sites call them.)
She chooses the latter...
~ Cory Rand ~
Cory Rand has not had an easy life. His mother died in a car accident when he was twelve, and so did his mother's best friend...sort of. You see, Janice made a promise to take care of Cory just before she died, and so she lingers. Undead. A ghost that watches out for him.
Brought up in an abusive home, Cory quickly falls into a life of disreputable behavior. After his third offense (which was prompted by a girl, as usual - he has a weakness) he's left with two choices:
1. Be tried as an adult and share a cell with a guy named Bubba (he thinks...)
Or
2. Go to Starkfield Academy, which Cory is pretty sure is run by vampires. But, hey, at least he'll get an education.
He chooses the latter...
It's at Starkfield that Kira meets Cory Rand, a boy with an insatiable Rage who sees ghosts, too. As well as other things, other things from his past, things that confuse him, things like fire and witches and demons.
Things he's always ignored.
Until now.
The Therapist
“So, this...ghost,” the therapist says. “He, uhm, watches over you?”
Dandy. Another therapy session. Why do I even bother trying to explain this stuff to this guy?
“Yes.”
The doctor (therapist? Psychiatrist? Counselor? Headshrinker? What do they call them these days?) shifts up in his seat. “Are you taking your medication?”
“No.”
“I see.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “The hallucinations won’t stop until you do.”
“I like the hallucinations.” Because I know they’re real...
“Kira, I cannot help you unless you let me.”
Help? Oh, man. “I never asked for these sessions. They were forced upon me.”
“You did have some choice.”
I say nothing. We’ve been down this road.
“I’m going to up your dosage. But it won’t do a thing unless you take the pills.”
I look away.
“Kira, you’re seventeen now. I know what you went through was difficult, your fear of fire — ”
“This has nothing to do with fire, I told you.”
“You have pyrophobia. Seeing this ghost is merely your way of dealing with — ”
“Do they actually give you guys degrees? I mean, did you actually graduate from somewhere?”
The doc / therapist / shrink pushes his glasses up his nose again, resignation all over his face. Give it a sec, and his eyes will drift down to my legs.
“Question, doc. In all your years of study, did they ever teach you to listen?”
“You feel I don’t listen?”
Count to ten, Kira. “My toe listens better than you.” And my ghost.
“Is there some thought regarding your toe?”
Someone shoot me. “Doc, I think we’re done.”
He looks at his watch. “We have twenty minutes left.”
“I think we’re done.”
“You know that if you cancel the session you’ll have no choice but to become a boarder at Starkfield Academy. The state demands it.”
Yeah, because I flipped out at school and kicked Charlene Carverton’s cheerleading ass into a pulp (broken nose, blue eye) after she told me I was fat — and crazy — and that she’d slept with Mike.
I stand. “I think I’ll join the boarding school, doc. Seeing you is...too infuriating.”
“You’ll need blood tests — ”
“I’ve taken the blood tests. They accepted. Apparently I have no super contagious disease or whatever.”
The doc shuffles in his seat. “You know, Kira, the frustration is all part of the process. That, and the medication.” Someone give this guy a medal. “You’ll regret it.”
“Not as much as I regret listening to you for the last two months.”
The doc’s eyes go wide, then an evil grin forms on his face. “Starkfield,” he says, “is filled with things...you cannot even imagine existed.”
“What, like ghosts?”
“Ghosts are not real, Kira.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll take my chances.”
“It’s no walk in the park, young lady. Juvenile delinquents and mentally disturbed kids — you really want to spend the next two years there?”
“At least they won’t medicate me for things I know are real.” Holistic Approach is one of their mottos.
He shrugs. “As you wish, little lady.” And then...here we go: Bingo! His filthy eyes slide down to my exposed shins, linger there. Again... I’m not sure if he has a thing for redheads with blue eyes, or if he simply pervs over all his patients.
I spin out the room...and walk straight through Jack.
“How’d it go?” Jack asks.
I look at the secretary staring at me through her horn-rims. Ah, screw it, they think I’m crazy anyway. Might as well play the part.
“You were listening, how do you think it went?” I say.
“Sorry, what?” the secretary asks.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“I couldn’t hear all of it,” Jack says.
“Well, I’m going to boarding school. Starkfield Academy.”
“Oh,” the secretary says, “that’s a shame.”
“Hey, I said I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Miss Kira, calm down. She can’t see or hear me.”
I turn to face him, cock an eyebrow. “You think I don’t know that? Come on, let’s get outta here. At least you’ll be there, at the Academy. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to get rid of you.”
Jack stops. “Miss Kira, you want me to leave?”
I turn back to look at him. “Did I say that? No. Now get a move-on. I need to pack.”
Relief washes over Jack’s translucent face.
The secretary looks at me, confused.
I’ve grown to love him, but especially after the accident, ever since he sat by my side in that hospital and talked me out of walking down that tunnel with the white light at the end. But it wasn’t only the tunnel. There were other things I saw in that coma. Scary things. Things I still think about: A circle of stones. A man. A strange name — Elgarth or Elderman or...something. And then spirits. The word GAWWWWHHHHHD. A boom. And a voluptuous nymph who screamed in the sky and howled for blue murder, screeching until her lungs almost burst.
And then a sudden sense of terrible loss. All gone. Everything. Everything gone.
But the worst of the nightmares was the fire, so much fire. So much horrible, aching fire.
“Are you thinking of it again, Miss Kira?” Jack’s pale eyes look down at me ruefully.
It.
Jack knows my greatest fear.
“No,” I lie.
“Miss Kira?”
“What?”
“Never deny who you are.”
That’s Jack’s favorite cryptic saying. I have no idea what he means.
R P Channing started writing three years ago, but never published anything even after churning out over a million words of fiction. Thirst: Blood of my Blood is the first book he dared to publish. When asked why, he said, “Because it’s the first thing I wrote that my wife actually enjoyed reading.” When not hammering away (most literally) at his keyboard, he can be found buried in a book, reading anything from romance to horror to young adult to non-fiction to comedy.
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