Broken Bones: The Ghost Ring Chronicles, #1

By Sierra Storm

Bunny wants to put her life back in order. The ghosts have other ideas.

 

Roman Asher didn't kill himself. That's what perky freshman Bunny Rainville thinks when she first learns about his apparent suicide in the library after hours. Bunny hardly has a chance to grieve before she finds a mysterious treasure packed into her mailbox: a magic ring that gives her the ability to see and speak to Roman again—as well as a number of other ghosts haunting the campus of Twin Oaks.

Unfortunately, Bunny's new treasure comes with a price, and she quickly finds herself the new target of the dark force controlling the school. Can she work with her deceased companions to solve the mystery of the murders of Twin Oaks without making herself the next victim?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pen And Glory Press LLC
• Release date: Jul 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223812869

Book preview

Broken Bones

The Ghost Ring Book 1

Sierra Storm

Copyright © 2022 by Sierra Storm

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Also By Sierra Storm

Dead but Not Forgotten

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I discovered my gift when I was five years old: my imaginary friends were actually ghosts. Unfortunately, the people who linger around after death aren’t the good guys, and I can never escape them.

For most of my life, I assumed that my mixed blessing was a curse I’d have to get used to. Then I met Professor Derek Lightfoot, a man drawn to danger and to the paranormal. A man who knows what’s really going on.

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Contents

1.One

2.Two

3.Three

4.Four

5.Five

6.Six

7.Seven

8.Eight

9.Nine

10.Ten

11.Eleven

12.Twelve

13.Thirteen

14.Fourteen

15.Fifteen

16.Sixteen

17.Seventeen

18.Eighteen

19.Nineteen

20.Twenty

21.Twenty-One

22.Twenty-Two

23.Twenty-Three

24.Twenty-Four

25.Twenty-Five

26.Twenty-Six

27.Twenty-Seven

28.Twenty-Eight

29.Twenty-Nine

30.Ashes to Ashes

31.Dead but Not Forgotten

32.About The Author

One

Rule one: Mindset determines success. If I can dream it, I can do it. I need to stay optimistic, smile, and always act as if success is just around the corner.

Rule two: Don’t talk about Dad. Don’t talk about death. And don’t talk about the thing I saw in the library.

I wet my lips and shifted my overstuffed backpack on my shoulders while tossing my duffel from one hand to the other. Then I smiled as I entered the air-conditioned lobby of the student support center and approached the black-haired girl behind the desk. She handed a room key to another girl and then turned her attention to me.

I had missed freshman orientation. As of today, I was a student here at Twin Oaks College, studying mythology and accepted into the low strings section of the orchestra. But I’d skipped all the social parts. All I had over the past weekend were a walk-through tour and a photoshoot for my student ID card. I was what everyone called a special exception.

The girl behind the desk blinked slowly.

Hi, I’m settling in late, I said, shaking some newly cut hair out of my face. The woman at the salon had trimmed it too short again, and now it kept getting in the way. I need my room key.

Name?

Bunny, I said. Rainville.

Her brows pressed down, and she straightened. I was starting to notice a pattern between my name and how people here reacted when they heard it. When I was a kid, everyone I met thought it was cute. Most assumed I went by a nickname simpler than my full name. Now everyone became more ashen and serious, making zero effort to be friendly.

I brightened my smile, just in case.

Finally, the girl reached under the desk and pulled out a ring of keys. She flicked through them until she found one marked B. Rain, which she removed and tossed to me. You’re in room 128, she said. Your roommate is Paige Aldrin. She’s already checked in. Is that all you have?

I pack light, I said. It makes for easy travel.

I guess you would, she said with a half sneer.

What’s that?

The girl stiffened. Sorry. Long day. If the key doesn’t seem to be working, just jiggle it and check the door number.

No one here knew me, but everyone had heard of me before. The reason I skipped orientation was that I came with a reputation—and with a string of sensational news stories to back it up. I’d had certain issues since I was twelve. That was the winter my dad’s car slipped off the bridge in Minnesota, when my brain fell apart into a sad mush, and when I started losing control. These people probably didn’t know about my dad or how long this thing had been happening. That itself wouldn’t be enough to make everyone give me the stink-eye. No, it got worse. A couple years ago, I set the public library in the middle of town up in a blaze and was accused of arson. I’d been a volunteer there for years. I found the library a reliable refuge from the rest of the mess that defined my high school life. One time when I was shelving books in the archive section, I heard something. I got a little spooked, and then I saw something that looked like an ill-willed shadowy monster between the aisles. Long story short, I tipped over some decorative candles and set the building on fire—and started seeing a psychologist who was still working to diagnose my delusions years later. The story got me in the news nationwide, far and vividly enough to reach this campus in Maine, halfway across the country from my home in Lake City, Minnesota.

Rolling my shoulders, I hurried down the hall where I was pointed. The freshmen dorms at Twin Oaks were special because they only roomed two students each instead of three or four, like the other dorms. The college took a long time housing me, so I didn’t learn Paige’s name until a few days ago and had yet to speak with her. The admissions department tried to talk me into doing distance classes my first year so that I wouldn’t relapse due to stress. I don’t know who was more offended at the idea, me or my mom.

Things were straightened out now. I was going to be normal here. I was going to let the stress roll off my back. Who needed orientation, after all? I had my schedule, and I knew where everything was. The first week wouldn’t have a lot of work anyway.

I reached the room. 128 was an easy number, but there was still only one name written over the door on a lace-cut sheet of black paper. Paige. They were probably late adding my name. Secretly I hoped I’d have the room to myself for a couple hours so I could settle down. I didn’t want to load my clothes into a dresser with someone staring at my every move.

I stuck my key in the door and twisted. The door opened easily, and the quick gasp from the other side betrayed the presence of my roommate.

Hello! I piped, entering the room.

Paige was about half my size with long brown hair and a baggy tie-dye shirt draped over her frame to her knees. The array of colors on her shirt was reflected everywhere else in the room—bright inspirational posters plastered all over the wall and a psychedelic comforter over the bottom bunk. She looked at me with unblinking brown eyes. I’m sorry. I completely forgot they gave me a roommate, she said, unimpressed.

Yeah, I was added late. I dropped the duffel and removed my backpack, massaging my shoulders where the straps had been cutting in. I stuck out a hand to my new roommate. I’m Bunny, I said.

She took my hand, only the fingers, and shook them slowly. Her touch felt like ice, even though it was barely September outside. Paige, she said. I couldn’t tell if the quiver was because she recognized my name or if it was because she was merely unsocial.

I’m glad you left me the top bunk. I think that’s much more fun, I said.

Oh, I was thinking about having the beds separated, said Paige, turning to the bunk-bed uneasily. But we can keep it this way if you want. Are you all signed up for classes?

Yep, that’s what I did when everyone else was in orientation. How was it? I noticed that Paige had the uncomfortable habit of gawking, and the way she was looking at me right now made me wonder if I’d lost my shirt somewhere in the hall. I brushed my hands together to ease the tension.

Orientation? Good. I almost got a full night’s sleep near the end. Now Paige finally stopped gawking at me and looked down. A red tinge colored her cheeks. I was wondering what your triggers were. Just so that I wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. You know…

I waved my hand. I’m fine with anything you’ve got. It takes a lot to get through my skin.

Right, but I was wondering, from a psychological standpoint… is there anything I need to know?

And here I was, hoping she was just socially awkward. Silly me. I should have known much better than to think I could weasel my way out of my own roommate knowing my crime. I giggled, and then realized that might be the worst thing possible to do if someone is actively doubting your sanity. About me? Nah, I’m fit as a fiddle. Fiddle-dee-dee.

Paige’s eyebrows rose, and her mouth parted in a smile that resembled a feral dog warning intruders to stay away. I heard about what happened with you and the public library a couple years ago. Sorry about that.

Another giggle. I really needed to learn how to break that response. I saw something that scared me, and there were a lot of lit candles nearby. The news exaggerated.

She nodded slowly. Unconvinced.

Hopefully things would get better after my classes started.

Two

Icrack myself up sometimes. How cute of me yesterday, smiling at everyone and telling myself that things would be better when classes started in the morning.

Things hadn’t improved. After our first introduction, Paige left to go off with her friends, the other freshman girls in our hall. She stayed out until I went to bed. Our room was on the ground level. Outside of our window I had a good view of the lawn between campus buildings. I had the basic map of the campus already memorized. There was the main cafeteria, there was the auditorium, and there was the tall brick building with three of my four classes. I picked through Paige’s abandoned belongings as well. Paige fell on the blurred line between neat and messy. She kept a half-eaten tray of thin mint cookies on her desk and was halfway done decorating our walls. We had our own bathroom, mostly dominated by Paige’s belongings with my odd essentials looking pathetic by comparison.

When I woke up in the morning I felt the bed shake as Paige rolled over and grunted at the sound of my phone singing Good Morning, Good Morning at top volume. I muttered a curse under my breath and grabbed the phone from under my pillow, turning it off before it had a chance to wake her up. I also vowed to myself to find a different place to keep my phone in the future, since my military-grade case was so bulky I could feel it from the top of my pillow.

My first class was Intro to Mythology, and it was the one I was most excited about. I’d lived in Minnesota my whole life, but Twin Oaks was what dragged me to the east coast. Twin Oaks wasn’t like other colleges. It was small at about 1500 total students, but it offered degrees that you couldn’t find anywhere else. Like my favorite, mythology. I always liked stories. Especially old stories with their own forms of magic. I liked reading about the various heroes and villains that decked the famous pantheons. I could kill hours reading the stories of magical artifacts since lost to time. Freshman year, I had mostly general classes to look forward to. Statistics and Comp 1 with a course in Ancient Western History quad 2.

It was foggy outdoors. The whole campus had been engulfed in a cloud through the night, making this place a good haven for potential goths. As soon as I left the hall I ran through a mental checklist. I’d have a break after this class where I’d grab something to eat. For now it was just a matter of going to the Domino Building for my first class. I liked the name of it, the Domino Building. I had to assume it was named after someone, but I liked to think it was named after tabletop games and pizza instead.

A small crowd of other students trailed through the door facing my side. I brightened my face as I approached. Intro to Mythology, anyone? I asked, pressing forward.

A girl in bright purple leggings looked at me and winced. Guys, it looks like the rumor’s true, she said. We’re going to school with an arsonist.

Ouch, she didn’t have to be so blunt about it. Everyone looked at me, wrinkled their noses, and stepped back, forming an irregular aisle that led more or less to the stairs I was supposed to take.

Nice to meet you, too, I announced.

No one spoke. Well, over the fifteen hundred other students here, at least one of them had to not be afraid of me, right?

I wet my lips and poked my head inside the right door. The room was silent. Class was already in session, and I was late. I waved shyly.

The professor, Dr. Lightfoot, was younger than I had expected and ruggedly attractive, with tousled blond hair and a slight goatee encircling his mouth. He stood six feet in front of me, sizing me with his eyes as if he were deciding to make an example of me before the rest of the class.

I smiled. There were only twenty people here, and the seat right next to the door was available, so I stepped around and sat down, placing my backpack near my feet while someone passed a copy of the syllabus and necessary texts to me.

Bunny Rainville? asked Lightfoot.

Yes, present, I answered, crossing my legs at the ankle.

He beckoned with his fingers. Come here and sit up front.

Oh, sorry, is this desk not…?

You have a reputation that makes others uncomfortable around you, said Lightfoot simply. Please stay where I can keep an eye on you. We like to maintain an environment that other students find safe and welcoming.

My mouth dropped open for a moment. I picked my backpack from the floor and held it in front of me like a shield before standing.

How’s she even allowed on campus? someone hissed behind me.

My cheeks burned. I moved to the seat indicated while Dr. Lightfoot continued his course introduction. Because I don’t want to single anyone out, most of our work will be in pairs, he said. You can expect to learn who your partner is next week. Of course, if any of you schedule out of this class and we find ourselves with an odd number, I will work with Miss Rainville.

He certainly had no problem singling me out if he hated singling people out. I looked at the scuffs on the false-wood desk in front of me and wondered how deep of a prick I could give it with a pencil if I tried. If people just gave me a chance, then maybe I’d have fun here, but it was almost as if this place was conspiring to give me problems.

Turn your attention to the book list, Dr. Lightfoot continued. You’ll see that you have space for a choice book. Today after class, I want each of you to go to the library and check out a mythology-themed book of your choice. You’ll need it for later.

The girl next to me raised her hand. She was small, Asian, with long hair and a sleeveless red turtleneck. So far, this girl had been one of the only ones in the room not to flinch at my presence, even when Lightfoot had called me to sit next to her.

Cherise? asked Lightfoot.

Oh, I just wanted everyone to know that I really like study groups, and I might have a good hangout if anyone wants to meet up, she said. I applied in the library to work afternoons. If anyone wants to hang out and chat about projects or find a book, I’d love to help if I land the job.

Thanks, very helpful, said Lightfoot. That is exactly the kind of attitude I want to see.

Cherise turned to me with a timid smile and waved as Dr. Lightfoot continued with a walk-through of the syllabus. I waved back. Then the professor planted one hand firmly on my desk as if in response. You’ll be doing a lot of work in pairs, but your grade will be particular to you, he said, addressing everyone but especially me. I will be watching your behavior, your demeanor, and your work ethic as well as well as academic performance. Remember, our honors society is one of the most prestigious in the country. Only the very best students get in, and your impression now is already making a difference.

After the bell rang, I sat at my desk and waited while the other students filed out first. Cherise tapped my