Whirlwind by Bailey Bradford (reading the story of the .txt) 📕

Stefan’s not-real heart plummeted. This was most likely the grave of the guy Ro had told him about. It made sense. Usually, though, the spirits arrived before the funerals—like immediately after death. Why was it that Conner had only today been greeting the newcomer?

The best way to find out was to ask Conner directly. Stefan would do that, but for now, he couldn’t leave the lady to mourn by herself. It just seemed wrong. Her pain was so obvious, Stefan would swear it was permeating the air and weighing him down.

He floated closer to the woman. Her brown hair dye had faded and white shone a good inch from the roots. She wore a flowered long-sleeved shirt and dark trousers. Her hands were clenched so tightly around the bouquet that her knuckles were white.

Stefan put some thought into it and carefully brushed back a strand of hair that was in her eyes. It would feel like a breeze to her, and he needed to do something to help her.

He’d just managed to push the hair out of the way when something hit him. Stefan gasped as the air shot from his lungs. Jesus, he hadn’t known there were things that could hurt him so much in the spiritual realm!

Chapter Four

He sure hadn’t known there were fucking Mack trucks hanging around. Stefan held himself perfectly still, his body reacting to the trauma of being run over.

Except he hadn’t been run over.

“Stay away from her!” a deep, rough voice growled in his ear.

Stefan tried to curl up into a ball. Flashbacks of the things Johnny had done to him inundated him. He whimpered, struggling to get his arms over his head. Whoever had attacked him was big, heavy, strong—and scary as any nightmare born in hell.

All this time Stefan had thought he’d been over what had happened to him. Now he knew that, better brain or not, he was still a freakin’ coward.

“Shit,” that voice swore gruffly, moist hot breath slicking over Stefan’s skin. Images flashed by behind his closed lids. His gut cramped with remembered fear.

“Hey, kid, stop, okay?” The weight on him lifted off partially. “Seriously, stop. I’m not going to hurt you. Just don’t keep crying. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

Stefan tuned out the increasingly rapidly spoken words. As soon as the man was off him enough, Stefan could think and he blasted the stranger with a shout that made his own ears ring. At the same time, he shot up, kicking out hard. His foot caught the man in the neck. Stefan caught a flash of startled green eyes then he was out of there.

“Stop!”

But not alone. Stefan’s flight or fight impulses were fully engaged. And that had been a different voice shouting at him than the first one, which meant there were two psychotic spirits out to get him.

He wasn’t a lost boy anymore, wasn’t helpless or slow. He wasn’t so desperate to be touched that he would let anyone hurt him.

Stefan tucked his chin to his chest and spiraled through the sky. The graveyard was long gone, and beneath him were fields and crops, farms and ranches as he headed out of town. He could feel the other two following him but didn’t risk a look. If they were newly dead, his quickly hatched plan might get the two goons off his trail.

If they weren’t, then Stefan wasn’t averse to asking for help. Conner always did like a good fight.

Stefan headed to Zeke Matthers and his partner Brendon’s place. He could have just blipped himself there, as he tended to think of it. A part of him wanted a little revenge for having been tackled and terrified. Stefan shot toward the largest barn. He soared right past Zeke, who froze, having sensed him. Zeke’s mama was a sweet spirit too, so Zeke probably did have some kind of ability to know when a spirit was hanging around. A sensitivity, maybe.

“Holy shit!” Brendon yelped, throwing a hand out. “Incoming!”

Stefan almost giggled at that. Brendon’s eyes were huge as he shoved back a chunk of his hair. Stefan remembered when it’d still been a sandy brown instead of the mostly gray it was now.

“Oh! The pendulum!” Brendon hollered. Stefan didn’t pay him any mind. He had weirdoes to shake. He turned onto his back and saw two big, muscular shapes coming up on him. Not nearly as fast as he’d gone, but they weren’t slouches, either. He flipped them off and stuck out his tongue, beginning to have fun now that he wasn’t being crushed.

Stefan went up twenty or thirty feet in the air, straight up. The sunlight made his eyeballs ache, but he was too scared to close his eyes. He wasn’t entirely convinced the sun wouldn’t turn into that Bright Light calling him away. He blinked and cursed the fact that the sun had an effect on him at all—really, he was dead! Why did his incorporeal form still react to that kind of shit?

His pursuers were rapidly catching up to him. He couldn’t tell if they were furious or drooling fools thanks to the hot white spots dancing in his vision. Figuring they weren’t able to see any better than he was at that point, Stefan didn’t bother flipping them off again. Instead he called out to them, “Well, come on, you jerks! Pick on someone my size, you freakin’ bullies!”

He didn’t wait for a reaction. He bent until his hands were nearly by his ankles and shot downwards, like he was diving off a platform.

The tin roof of the barn reflected the sunlight. Stefan could hear birds and cows, regular ranch sounds, as well as Brendon’s whoops of delight. A quick peek and he saw Mrs. Matthers waving at him. Stefan waved back at Zeke’s mom quickly. He didn’t want to miss his next move. Brendon yelled something about a pendulum again but Stefan ignored him.

His stalkers were closing in on him—because Stefan was letting them. They were still going pretty