The Ghost Host: Episode 1

By DelSheree Gladden

Everyone thinks Echo Simmons is crazy, but being The Ghost Host isn’t just a YouTube hoax like people think. It’s the only way to control the ghosts haunting her...at least until the FBI shows up asking questions.

The first eighteen years of Echo Simmons’ life have been less than ideal. On more than one occasion her parents have considered committing her. They don’t believe she sees ghosts or that they harass her on a daily basis. So when a rogue ghost begins tormenting her, they’re the last people she’s going to tell. Her best friends Holden and Zara are doing their best to help, but ghost attacks are only the beginning of Echo’s problems.

Handling the ghosts by giving them a voice on YouTube through her webshow has been her saving grace—even if her parents think it’s all a hoax—but that gets a little complicated when the ghost of Madeline Crew reveals a little too much about her previous life and the FBI shows up at her door wanting to know how she gained access to long-buried government secrets.

It just keeps getting worse from there. Madeline’s message to her great grandson sparks a strange connection between Echo and Malachi, which leads to Georgia, secrets, mistakes, love, lies, and life changing revelations.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DelSheree Gladden
• Release date: Apr 9, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370021147

DelSheree Gladden

DelSheree Gladden was one of those shy, quiet kids who spent more time reading than talking. She didn't speak a single word for the first few months of preschool. Her fascination with reading led to many hours spent in the library and bookstores, and eventually to writing. She wrote her first novel when she was sixteen years old, but spent ten years rewriting before it was published.Native to New Mexico, DelSheree and her family spent several years in Colorado before returning to northern New Mexico. When not writing novels, you can find DelSheree reading, hiking, sewing, playing with her dogs, and working with other authors.DelSheree has several bestselling young adult series and has hit the USA Today Bestseller list twice as part of box sets. DelSheree also has contemporary romance, cozy mystery, and paranormal new adult series. Her writing is as varied as her reading interests.

Book preview

1: Baffled

(Echo)

I’m not scared of cameras, just the rogue ghost trying to force his way onto my webshow. My two best friends, Holden and Zara, rush around the set trying to work out all the last-minute details and camera setup. I am considerably less helpful as I stare at the cameras, twisting my hands nervously.

This is usually the best part of my week. That was before the rogue ghost showed up last month and started stalking me. The black fear and raging anger he carries around instantly put me on edge. I’ve been doing my best to avoid him, but the attacks are getting worse every day.

Noticing my reticence, Zara stops next to me and squeezes my arm. Hey, it’s gonna be fine. Holden has the whole area circled in salt. He’ll close it as soon as your guest steps inside the circle. No one else will get in.

I nod, but not even the knowledge that my friends have my back and the presence of the salt reassures me. I have a feeling that ordinary precautions won’t cut it against the rogue.

 Two minutes, people! Holden shouts as he races across the room to lock the door against unexpected interruptions. Tonight, I’d actually welcome someone barging in over something else’s appearance.

Zara moves away from me and grabs an eraser to get rid of the show notes from earlier this week. She sprints back to one of the cameras a second later, missing as she tries to toss the eraser back onto the tray. The blackboard is still smudged with chalk dust, but I set the eraser back on the tray and face the desk and chair waiting for me. Taking a deep breath, I walk over to it and take my seat by the time Zara starts the countdown. I’m semi-composed as her last finger drops and she signals that we’re live.

Welcome back to The Ghost Host, I say with a smile that’s not quite as genuine as usual. "I’m Echo Simmons and we’ve got an extra special show tonight. We’re going back in time to talk to a ghost who hasn’t seen the inside of a high school in at least half a century.

As always, everything you see tonight is real. We use old school chalk and blackboards so you know we’re not interfering digitally, and we stream live so there’s no time for special effects. The responses you see will be straight from our guest, communicated through me by automatic writing. You’re welcome to believe me or not. It’s up to you.

Having gotten through my memorized spiel, I smile again, feeling a bit more confident that this will go well. Saying that we stream live is a small fib since Holden delays the broadcast by about thirty seconds just in case one of the ghost guests try to break the rules, but we’ve learned it’s essential from past experiences. Better safe than sorry.

I glance toward the blackboard. My mom really couldn’t understand why I wanted one last year when every other born and bred California girl I went to school with was asking for shopping trips or surf boards. She was unwilling to refuse me for fear of things going bad again, and presented it to me on my seventeenth birthday with a shake of her head. Dad gave up trying to figure me out a while ago. He’s supportive so long as things keep going well.

Turning toward the blackboard, I nod to the elderly woman waiting just outside the salt circle and ignore the usual crowd of ghosts hanging around in the periphery. She showed up about a month ago, but stayed in the background, almost as though she were trying to figure out whether or not I was legit. It wasn’t until earlier this week that she attempted contact and made it clear she had a message to pass on.

Since I’ve been burned in the past by ghosts not being on the up and up, rule one for the Ghost Host show is that guests have to give me a preview of their message before coming on the show so I can make sure it’s not going to cause trouble for anyone still living. This lady’s thoughtful approach and clear respect paired up with her innocuous message made it easy to say yes.

Holden breaks the circle when I give him the signal to let my guest in, then closes it immediately behind her when I nod that she’s through safely. The crowd of ghosts waiting outside the circle all want a turn, but they all know the rules by now and won’t risk crossing me. Any ghost who doesn’t obey the rules of the show will never be allowed on to share their message. No second chances.

Now, we have a guest ready and waiting, I say when I turn back to the camera, but we need to go over the rules first. I stand and walk over to the blackboard. The woman’s gaze follows me. Holden, standing behind the larger camera and tripod now, adjusts it slightly on Zara’s command.

The woman is already nodding her agreement to my conditions, but since I’m the only one who can see her, it’s not quite good enough. I’ll write the rules—so you can see my bad handwriting—and after I do, our guest will take control and sign her name with the chalk in her own handwriting, agreeing to the terms.

The woman nods and I start talking. Rule one. You are not allowed to physically interact with any of the crew, me included. Rule two. You must answer three of my questions before being able to deliver your message. Rule three. Your message may be of a personal nature, but I won’t put up with any hateful or disparaging comments you can’t prove. Any accusations have to be fact checked before the show and approved beforehand. Are we agreed?

Instead of nodding again, the woman closes her eyes. I don’t exactly lose control, but I instantly feel an outside source nudging my subconscious, urging me to move the chalk. I’m only vaguely aware of my hand moving as I begin signing her name in a perfect, but shaky script. It’s the kind of handwriting that hasn’t been properly valued in ages. Zara and Holden start grinning when they see it. It’s the first indication they have that tonight will be successful. When we first started the show, we had no idea what would happen once we let the ghosts get involved for real. 

From an outside perspective, the show simply passes on messages to help ghosts reconnect with family and friends in a way they can’t on their own. I am glad I can help them find peace, but even more than that, I do this for my own sanity. Allowing the ghosts this outlet is the only way to control their presence in my life. Not giving over the reins completely reminds them that even though they’re the reason for the show, I’m still in charge. Which is where the three questions come in.

The curly script on the chalkboard takes me a minute to decipher once the woman pulls her influence away and I can concentrate on the words. All right, Madeline Crew, here’s your first question. What is one unique event that happened during your lifetime?

The feel of her influence creeps into me again, even more strongly than before. I feel my hand wobbling against the chalkboard as I imagine hers would. To me, it actually feels as if my hand has turned knobby and old, trying to scrawl out an answer. To everyone watching, it looks like I’ve got a serious caffeine buzz. The shaky script slowly spells out her answer. I shake off her influence again and read what she had to say.

I was 40 years old when Kennedy was assassinated.

I’m not all that surprised by her response given her apparel choices. Her housecoat over a loose floral print nightdress looks like something not even my own grandma would have worn before she passed away. Its dated pattern looks like something that would have been popular some time ago.

Thank you, Madeline. Question two is…what was the best gift you ever received and who gave it to you?

Madeline’s expression scrunches just a bit as she thinks. It doesn’t take long before she has me writing again.

A train ticket to Tennessee, given to me by Tommy Sharp.

I smile at the cryptic answer. The coy look I get in response makes me chuckle. I’m sure there’s much more to that story than a simple train ticket. Madeline’s watery eyes sparkle, but she doesn’t offer any more. I nod, respectful of her desire to keep a few secrets, even in death.

Maybe you’ll tell us more another time, I say. For now, let’s get to the last question. What is the bravest thing you did during your life?

For some reason, Madeline’s face looks like it would have gone completely pale had she any actual flesh and blood. The haunted expression only lasts a moment before she pushes over her influence and has me hastily scratch out her response.

Stealing classified information from the Nazis.

Whoa, I say once I get my head back, and the sentiment is echoed by Holden and Zara. Now I really want to have you back again.

Madeline’s expression says she’s not keen on the idea at all, but I am definitely going to be looking her up after the show. This lady has some crazy interesting stories tucked away somewhere. She doesn’t want to put them out there, but that won’t stop me from digging around.

All right, Madeline. You’ve held up your end of the deal, so now it’s your turn to share your message.

Her head bobs eagerly and I feel my hand start twitching again.

Well, the board is now yours. Feel free to pass on your message, so long as you stick to the rules.

Thank you, Echo, she has me write first. Then, she urges me to pick up the eraser and wipe the board clean. I realize then just how strong she is. Usually, ghosts have to really focus just to get their thoughts over to my subconscious along with the nudge to write. Everyone in the room who’s actually alive, including me, tenses in anticipation. Madeline must have a lot to say, and I think we all know it’s going to be interesting.

This message is for my great grandson, Malachi Fields.

Do not let your father sell the old estate before you visit again.

Go to the closet where I kept the metal trucks and army men.

I left something for you there, in your favorite hiding place.

It is only for you.

Madeline relinquishes her influence over my subconscious and glances at me hopefully. I know what she’s asking. It’s the same question every ghost who comes on the show wants answered after they relay their message to me. Will I make sure the message gets to the intended person? In response to her question, I nod.

We’ll do our best to make sure we track down Malachi and pass your message along, Madeline. Thank you for coming tonight.

She sighs in relief and bows her head. Holden steps away from the camera and breaks the salt circle so she can leave. She steps out and vanishes a moment later. I don’t know where she goes after that, but she seems happy. There isn’t much I can do with this talent, or whatever people want to call it, but I can give a few restless spirits a little bit of peace. It doesn’t hurt that it’s made me wildly popular online, if not here at home. Everyone at school thinks I’m a big fake and a major freak, but that’s not because of the show.

Well, that wraps up our show for tonight. We’ll have it up on YouTube later this evening for anyone who couldn’t catch it live, so feel free to tell your friends and send them to our channel. I pause, ready to signal for Zara to wrap it up. All three of us jump when the temperature plummets.

I stare at the spot Madeline just vacated, and my body goes ice cold at the sight of the salt circle not completely closed. My eyes travel up haltingly, almost closing against what I know will be there. The twitching, hazy ghost glowers at me as he reaches toward my trembling body. No, no, no, no, I whimper as I scramble away from it.

Ice crystalizes along the edges of my bedroom windows and the air is suddenly charged with electricity. I can hear Zara and Holden freaking out somewhere in the distance, but my eyes and terror are wholly focused on the rogue ghost that has been tormenting me. I stare in amazement and fear as he actually manages to pick up a piece of chalk, something only a massive amount of energy will allow. I don’t know what he wants, but I know it won’t be good.

Before I can do anything, he rounds on me, lunges…and I freeze, pure terror gripping me relentlessly. Both of his hands clamp down around my head and set off my panic button like never before. A surge of energy rips through my mind, tearing a scream from me as pain stabs through my head.

Crashing, yelling, all around chaos breaks out. As the pain sears through me, salt rains down on my body. It’s only seconds later that the agony begins to vanish. Even still, I’m too shaken to even think about standing. I can barely process the fact that someone, probably my dad, is banging on my bedroom door. The only thing that really gets through is Zara and Holden dropping to the floor next to me, doing everything they can to reassure me that the ghost is gone and I’m safe again.

It must only take a few minutes, because my dad is still banging on the door with only a little worry in his voice as he calls out. It feels like a lot longer, but I stumble back up to my feet and rush to my door before the banging stops. My dad’s panicked face confronts me as I yank the door open. He takes in my flushed appearance and sweat-beaded skin and his worry doubles. Echo, what on earth is going on in there?

Sorry, Dad. Spider. Crawled right up my leg while I was sitting at the desk. Nearly knocked over the whole set trying to get it off me.

My dad shakes his head. Everyone okay?

Yeah. Holden squashed the spider. We’re good now.

He sighs and shakes his head one more time. He mumbles something about spraying for bugs as he walks away. Completely shaken by what just happened, I do my best to pretend I’m fine and am about to suggest we get the heck out of here when I turn back to my friends and stop. 

Scrawled across the blackboard in huge, angry letters are the words, LET ME GO! All I can do is stare in shock. This psycho ghost has been stalking me for almost a month, but he’s never attempted to communicate before. I feel lost and scared as I try to understand his message.

Uh, Holden says, any clue what that’s about?

The rogue’s three words send a chill down my spine, but I’m completely baffled.

2: Trouble Is

(Malachi)

Tired after a late night at work, I unlock the door to the apartment I share with my best friend Kyran, glad to be out of the humid Georgia air.

Malachi! Kyran yells as soon as he hears the apartment door open.

I’m not really in the mood to try and keep him alive on whatever video game he’s playing. I’m not helping you, I call back.

I toss my keys in the dish on top of the entertainment center and head for the kitchen. For the millionth time I wonder why we hooked up both our PS4s in my room and the XBOX to the main TV. We both know Kyran spends most of his time on the PS4 getting massacred by other players. He’s been my best friend my whole life, but I’d really like to just go crash in my room without him in there yelling at the TV.

I’m reaching for a glass before I realize Kyran isn’t in my room. He’s planted at the kitchen table, eyes glued to his laptop screen. You’ve gotta watch this! Hurry up and get over here, he demands.

This new plea doesn’t make me any more inclined to do what he wants. Kyran, I’m going to bed. I’ll watch it in the morning.

I don’t know how he manages to get any schoolwork done between video games and YouTube. Shaking my head, I fill my glass with water from the tap and drink it down. You wouldn’t think playing the piano at a swanky restaurant all night would be thirsty work, but I’m not allowed to have drinks at the piano, not even water. It makes for a long night sometimes.

Do I really have to drag you over here? Kyran snaps. Come watch this. Now.

Rolling my eyes, I give in. I’m too tired to argue, so I drop into the seat next to him. I wish I hadn’t as soon as I see the title of the video. The Ghost Host? I start to get back up, but Kyran grabs my arm.

Come on, man, I complain, you know I’m not into that stuff. Call Cerise and nerd out with her.

Sit down and watch this, Kyran demands again. It’s about Grandma Maddie.

That gets my attention. Kyran’s always been fascinated with the supernatural. Southerners tend to hold onto superstitions, and Georgia’s no different in that regard, but I don’t have the patience for it. However, the mention of my great grandma Madeline will stop me in my tracks no matter what the context. Kyran hits play, and for once, I’m glued to the video he’s trying to show me.

I’ll admit, even after being spooked by hearing the name of Grandma Maddie, my first thought when the video starts is how hot the host is. Her hair is practically orange, but not an obnoxious orange. It’s more of a burnt orange, dark, rich, and nearly as captivating as her smile. I forget why I’m watching this as I simply stare at her.

Honestly, I don’t even know what it is about her that’s caught my attention so much. Just a pull, something begging me to pay attention. When I come out of my fog, I notice her tense posture and the way her eyes keep darting around the set. What is she afraid of? Is it just an act?

I perk up when she says she has a guest ready to play her question and answer game. Her handwriting is nothing like my sisters’, whose pride in being cultured Southern girls insists that they have handwriting which could be framed if someone actually cared to do such a thing. This girl, Echo I think she said her name was, scribbles out her rules as if she couldn’t care less if anyone can actually read it.

When she finishes, something weird happens. I assume it’s just part of the act when her posture changes and her eyes seem to lose focus, but the second she starts writing again, my blood goes cold. It’s been eight years since Grandma Maddie died, but I still have letters she wrote to me during the school year. I know her handwriting. I have no clue how to react to seeing it scrawled out across Echo’s chalkboard.

Madeline Crew.

I reach for the necklace tucked under my shirt, and notice Kyran has done the same. Gifts from Grandma Maddie, she gave them to us the first year we were old enough to spend the summer at her estate. At five years old, we both thought necklaces were for girls, but she insisted we wear them every day, no matter what, to protect us. From what, we had no clue at that age. I still don’t. Grandma Maddie said to wear them, so we did. Kyran’s told me since then that the Celtic shield symbol really is used for protection, but it’s always just been a reminder of her for me. Nothing more.

Keeping a hold on the necklace, I’m drawn back to the show when Echo’s voice relates her first question. The next twenty minutes leave me completely unhinged as I read the responses to Echo’s questions. Who is Tommy Sharp and what does my great grandma have to do with Nazi secrets? I thought she was a secretary during the war. The only answer I don’t have a problem with is the JFK comment. The rest…I don’t know what to think.

The handwriting is hers, but where are these answers coming from? I can’t even tear myself away from the video to ask Kyran what’s going on. Is this show just a big hoax? Do Echo and her friends dig up information about people who’ve passed on and try to trick people into believing they’re actually talking to real ghosts, or is there more to it? I’m still hung up on the handwriting when Echo says the supposed ghost of my great grandma has a message.

Ignoring Kyran’s protest, I pull the laptop right in front of me. I don’t think I could have looked away if our apartment spontaneously caught fire. Until my name shows up. Jumping back in my chair at the sight of, This message is for my great grandson, Malachi Fields, sends a shiver down my spine.

Turning to look at Kyran, I ask, Dude, what is going on?

Kyran points back to the screen. Keep watching! Don’t miss it!

It doesn’t matter that I can always play back the video if I miss something. I snap my attention to the screen, fixated on what’s about to happen. The message continues, talking about the old estate—which amps up my freaked-out status even more—to the old die cast trucks and army men Kyran and I used to play with every time we went to Grandma Maddie’s house, to something she left for me, something she wants me to risk going back there to get.

As soon as the message ends, Echo seems to shake off the presence…act…whatever, and go right into closing up the show. Leaning back against the chair, a million thoughts run through my mind, but before I can consider any of them, I jump forward again, my fingers clenched around the laptop screen.

I have no clue what’s going on when Echo’s face drains of color and she starts chanting no, no, no, but I know it isn’t good. The panic rising in my chest doesn’t make any sense, because I’m almost positive this is all a huge prank, but I can’t help feeling like I need to do something to protect her. I’m almost too fixated on her to notice the single piece of chalk, moving on its own, scraping out an angry message.

Let me go!

A burst of white flashes across the screen before everything cuts out and the video ends. A collage of other videos I might want to watch pops up, and I lean back against the dining chair feeling completely spent. What just happened?

I turn to Kyran for answers, thinking he’ll be just as on edge as I am, but his eyes are burning with curiosity as well as an intense fear. Well? he asks.

Well? I just stare at him. Is he nuts? The old estate? That’s the only thing I can say in response.

That sobers Kyran up. Yeah, that’s uh, I don’t know. Goin’ back there? He shakes his head, not to say he won’t go with me, but to try to get rid of the skin-crawling feeling that thought inspires.

How did they even know about that? It wasn’t in the papers. That superstitious lot down there was too scared to even mention what happened.

Kyran only shrugs. What about that other stuff?

No idea. I push the laptop away, even though I’m dying to watch the video again. Stuff they made up, most likely.

I’m caught off guard when Kyran bristles. They don’t make stuff up. You’d know that if you ever watched the show.

Rolling my eyes, I don’t dignify that with a response. Ghosts? I have a few superstitions like any other Southerner, but this isn’t one of them. Something’s going on here, though. Half of what they said, they shouldn’t have known. Even if they did, no one in their right mind would be making a joke of it.

Knowing this is going to keep digging at me until I figure it out, I search the page for some way to contact this Echo girl. I come up empty on the YouTube page, but Kyran realizes what I’m looking for and sends me to their website. There’s nothing listed for Echo, but some guy named Holden says he takes care of any correspondence.

She doesn’t answer her own fan mail? I’d almost think she was a bit high on herself, but I suspect there’s a deeper reason for that. Something having to do with whatever happened at the end of the video. Who is this girl? Part of me wants to pass the whole thing off as plumb crazy and be done with it, but something won’t let me. Trouble is, I can’t figure out whether it’s the girl, the message, or what happened at the end of the video. Unable to decide, and incapable of putting it to rest and walking away, I start typing.

3: Crazies

(Echo)

Echo! my mom calls out, stopping me before I can reach the door. She hurries up to me with a hopeful smile. This came for you in the mail.

The envelope in her hand makes my stomach twist. The university logo on the top left corner is what does it to me. Every other college and university I’ve applied to has rejected me. One year of stability and mostly good grades doesn’t come close to wiping out three years of abysmal academics. This is my last chance outside of our local community college. Instead of opening it, I snatch it out of my mom’s hand with a quick thanks and escape to my car.

I don’t forget about the letter. It stays purposely buried in my backpack until lunch when I sit down at my usual table in the corner where Zara and Holden are waiting. As usual, the cousins are arguing about something or other. The chatter dies down as soon as I drop the envelope on the table and plop into my chair. Holden is the first to pick it up.

Want me to open it? he asks.

Hesitating, I finally nod when I realize it has to be opened at some point. Go for it. The news isn’t going to change just because I wait longer to find out. Even still, I close my eyes when I hear Holden tear open the paper. I can’t help holding my breath as I wait for his response. When he sighs, my last hope shatters.

Sorry, Echo.

Zara reaches over and pats my arm. Hey, there’s nothing wrong with community college. That’s where I’ll be, too. You know, if I go to college at all. Right now I’m leaning toward taking a year off. Roaming around or whatever. My parents are totally all for it.

Her parents would be, I think to myself. Sometimes I wonder if her mom and Holden’s dad are really related. Holden’s dad is a lawyer, and fully expects his son to jump into his precisely plotted five year plan the day after graduation. Zara’s mom is all about letting her kids explore the world and discover themselves when they’re young, before the soul-stealing world of adult life sucks out all their joy. My parents, they’re so focused on making sure I don’t implode, they tippy-toe around every decision, carefully mapping out my future in the safest route possible. I appreciate that they care, but sometimes I feel like I’m suffocating.

Taking a year off, I say quietly. What do you think it would take to convince my parents to let me do the same thing?

Holden frowns, his overprotective side spawning a heavy dose of concern. Zara only shrugs. It’s not like you actually need permission, Echo. You’re eighteen.

Shaking his head, Holden says, It’s not about permission, Zara, it’s about being careful. Running off on her own might not be the best thing for Echo. Think about your friend instead of just having fun and playing around.

Zara glares at him, but I look away. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Holden. I don’t say it out loud, but keeping quiet doesn’t do anything to stop the sting of his words. They’ve both known me since kindergarten, before things got bad, but not before the ghosts. The ghosts have always been there. Even now, there’s at least six of them standing around the table, hoping I’ll acknowledge them. I don’t.

Somehow, I always knew the people I saw hovering around looking aimless were ghosts, and it never really bothered me. Sometimes I talked to them when I was little. They never talked back. Sometimes they would play with me, though. My mom used to tell people what a good baby I was, how I never cried or fussed. She thought she had just lucked out with an easy first kid. Really, I always had someone standing over my crib smiling at me or making silly faces. Ghosts really seem to like being around babies for some reason.

It wasn’t until I got a little older that I realized some of my ghostly friends were hanging around for a reason. A few of them were just lonely and either weren’t ready to move on or didn’t know how. I haven’t got a clue about how to send them on their way, so I figure the least I can do is keep them company.

Others, they had messages they wanted to pass on. At first, I didn’t know how to do that without getting into trouble. My mom refused to make phone calls or send my letters to random strangers. I found ways to get the letters in the mail without her knowing, but it wasn’t easy and they occasionally got sent back to us when the address proved inaccurate. Mom wasn’t happy when she found one and realized what I’d been doing.

Holden was the one who came up with the idea for the webshow. It made things a lot easier since my parents think it’s just a hoax we like to pull for attention, and it gives us a hobby and keeps me out of trouble, for the most part. That’s the biggest reason they let me do it. As I got older and more capable, more able to help the ghosts, they became more insistent. That’s when things got really bad.

Up until that point, I didn’t know the ghosts could affect my dreams, and not in a good way. The nightmares got progressively worse, morphing into full on screaming and thrashing fits I couldn’t wake up from. The migraines followed, though I’m still not sure if the ghosts were trying to talk to me, or just doing whatever they could to get my attention. Sometimes, their presence