What a Ghoul Wants

by Victoria Laurie

  I sighed as I skimmed my own contract, which was basically one paragraph detailing how we would be paid, plus twelve pages of all the many, many ways Chris and the network could sue us if we backed out or quit before the shoot was finished. Heath looked at me sideways as if to ask if I really intended to go through with it, and as I read the contract, I came very close to backing away from the table to go pack my things, but Merrick Brown’s terrified face kept flashing through my mind, and with a heavy sigh I initialed where indicated, signed the last page with a scribble, and shot the contract over to Kim, who accepted it with a grateful smile.

  Once everyone else had signed, Gopher took up the contracts, nodded to us, and stood to leave, already dialing his phone—probably to call Chris and let him know we were a go.

  Once he’d left, I turned to the remaining crew members and said, “All right, gang, what we need most before we set out to gather more footage is a plan.”

  “Let’s pick one that doesn’t get us all killed,” Gilley said smartly.

  “Gil?”

  “Yes, M. J.?”

  “Shut it.”

  Chapter 8

  We spent a long time at that table working to come up with a plan, so long that Gopher returned and took up a seat to join in the discussion. The problem was that several of us were working at cross-purposes, which made it difficult for all of us to agree on how to proceed. I just wanted to find some way to help Merrick and the other prisoners of the Widow, but Gopher just wanted footage, footage, footage.

  Gil and Heath just wanted to stay alive, alive, alive, and Meg, Kim, and John pretty much just wanted to get paid, paid, paid. Only Michel stayed out of the argument, but I had a feeling he was on my side, because every time I brought the discussion back to helping the imprisoned ghosts, he would nod as if he agreed wholeheartedly.

  I kept pushing for time to do our homework, but Gopher now had the fear of Chris in him, and he wanted us to get some footage of anything spooky within the next twenty-four hours and he wasn’t backing down. Finally I had an idea and offered the following suggestion: “Last night I think I saw the Desperate Duke.”

  “Yeah!” Gil said, pointing to me. “That ghost out on the moors that just disappeared when you aimed the camera through the window.”

  I started to nod, but then shook my head. “Maybe,” I said.

  “I’m confused,” Gil said.

  “What I mean is that the ghost out on the moors that you guys saw through the camera may have been the same guy I saw up close, but I’m not sure.”

  “You saw the duke up close?” Heath asked, concern evident in his eyes.

  “Yep. It was after I jumped out of the door to get away from the Widow. He was standing about ten or fifteen feet away from me, and if not for him, I think the Widow would have come out that door after me. She took one look at him, though, and slammed the door. Then he disappeared. It was all pretty weird.”

  Gilley’s hand was covering his mouth in shock. “M. J.,” he said in a breathy whisper, “before you came down, we were talking about the local legend that says that seeing the duke up close means you’re going to die!”

  I rolled my eyes and forced myself to laugh. “A bit dramatic, don’t you think?” When no one laughed with me, I added, “Oh, come on, guys! I’m still alive, and the duke certainly didn’t attack me. If anything, he protected me last night, although why he’d do that I can’t really figure out.”

  “It might be that those people who get close enough to see the duke in person end up at the south end of the castle, and if you’re on the south end of the castle, then you’re more likely to become a victim of the Widow,” Heath said wisely.

  I gestured to him. “Exactly!” But I couldn’t help taking note of the doubtful expressions of my crew around the table. “Anyway, I think we should investigate the duke’s ghost out on the moors for our first shoot, and in the meantime we can come up with a game plan for the Widow.”

  “We already wasted a whole night hunting for him, M. J.,” Gopher said in a way that suggested he was about to nix my idea.

  Michel jumped up. “That reminds me,” he said. “I’m supposed to meet Franco and get your phone back, Gilley. Back soon!” he said, and hurried off.

  Gil began to get up too, but I laid a hand on his shoulder to keep him at the table. “You stay here,” I told him firmly. I needed him to help me convince Gopher to investigate the moors until we had a solid plan for tackling the Widow.

  “I say we stick to the Widow and forget about the duke,” Gopher said.

  “I say we don’t,” Heath countered, his jaw set firmly. “Last night you guys didn’t have a medium with you to guide you to the duke’s ghost. If you want to find a spook, Gopher, you need either M. J. or me to feel out the area and tell you where to aim the camera.”

  “That’s a good point,” John said, and Meg and Kim began to nod too.

  “It makes sense to add the duke to the story,” Gil added. “It’ll help round out the bigger story of why the Widow is so crazy.”

  Gopher sighed and grumbled a little, but at least he didn’t protest much about the plan. What he did protest a lot about was the timeline. I wanted to take at least the next couple of days to gather some intel and work through a plan so that no one else got hurt. We’d also have to be careful to avoid stepping on the toes of Inspector Lumley as he investigated the murders of the two men who’d died there in as many days.

  “And let’s not forget that there’s a possible living killer on the loose, people,” I told the crew. “A killer who hasn’t been caught yet. We don’t know if it could be someone here at the castle, or if he or she is long gone by now. So even when we’re not filming, we’ll need to be careful. I think we should buddy up at all times and not let your partner out of your sight during off-hours.”

  Around the table the crew silently began to pair up. Heath took my hand and squeezed it, Meg and Kim looped arms, and Gopher and John nodded at each other. . . which left Gil.

  “Oh, come on!” he yelled. “Why am I always the odd man out?”

  “Maybe because you’re such a delight to be around,” I mumbled.

  “I heard that, M. J.!”

  I sighed and that’s when Michel appeared at the table with Gil’s cell phone in hand. “Here’s your mobile, mate.”

  Gilley giggled like a schoolgirl and patted Michel’s seat. “We’re buddying up, Michel,” he informed the photographer. “Just to be safe and all, because there’s a killer on the loose. Even in the off-hours we should be together. Like share a room. . . you know, for safety.”

  Michel took his seat. “Works for me,” he said with a sweet grin and a wink.

  Gilley blushed and smiled so hugely I thought he might dislocate his jaw.

  I ducked my chin to hide a smile, and Gopher rolled his eyes. “Fine. Everybody’s got a buddy. What else?”

  I turned to Gil. “I need you to do some research.”

  “Maybe I can just tell you what you need to know,” Gil said smartly while he played with his phone, probably to make sure Franco hadn’t broken it.

  “Oh, you know all, do you?” I asked him, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “More than you give me credit for,” he replied. “I read a lot, you know.”

  I raised a skeptical eyebrow. I’d never seen a book that could hold Gil’s attention for more than a few pages. “You read,” I mocked.

  “Yes.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like what, Gil? Name one periodical, book, news article, or other source material that you’ve read recently that has made you so knowledgeable.”

  Gilley’s face flushed, and he paused, tapping at his phone to look up and see that everyone at the table was staring at him. Lik
e Sarah Palin squaring off against Katie Couric, Gil had been caught off guard. But then his face lit with an idea. “The Internet.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’ve read the Internet.”

  Several of our crew giggled, and I glared at them. “Don’t encourage him.” I then refocused on Gilley. “As knowledgeable as reading the entire Internet would make you, I’d appreciate it if you’d indulge me by scouting around for anyone who may have firsthand knowledge or experience with a spook that is powerful enough to hold other ghosts prisoners. The Widow has some kind of hold over Merrick and Mr. Lefebvre. I want to know what that is, and how to break it.”

  Gil jotted a note to himself, then went back to playing with his iPhone, but then he said, “Huh. That’s weird.”

  “What’s weird?” I asked.

  Gil showed the display of his recent calls list, and there were at least half a dozen calls made to another phone number I didn’t recognize, and then Michel, leaning in to look at the display, said with mild surprise, “That’s André’s number.”

  I put my hand on Gil’s wrist to bring the phone closer. “They were made last night,” I said. My eyes met Michel’s and I knew instantly that he knew about Franco’s affair with Lefebvre.

  I turned my attention to Kim. “What time did Franco leave your group?”

  Kim and Meg looked at each other as if silently debating the time. “Some time around midnight,” Kim said, and Meg nodded.

  “None of us looked at our watches, but it wasn’t long after we set off on the moors.”

  I’d gotten back to the castle right around midnight and argued with Gil over the sweatshirt for at least fifteen to twenty minutes, which meant that the drawbridge had been tampered with some time between twelve and twelve twenty and Lefebvre could have been murdered anytime after that. Franco should definitely be looked at as a suspect.

  “You need to show this to the inspector,” I told Gilley, which caused Michel to grimace.

  “Why?” he asked, and I could see he didn’t really want to get involved.

  Given the fact that Michel seemed to like Franco, I was careful with my answer. “Because all these calls were made after midnight, Gil. If Franco talked to Lefebvre, it might help narrow down a time frame for the murder.”

  “It also may point the finger at Franco,” Gilley said, and Michel grimaced again.

  I nodded reluctantly. “I still think it’s important for you to bring that to the inspector’s attention.”

  Gil didn’t say anything—he just glanced at Michel, then pocketed his phone, and I could tell he and Michel would probably talk about it later and decide what to do. My mind was already made up that if Gil didn’t show it to Lumley, then I’d make sure to mention it to the inspector. If Franco was guilty of murder, I certainly didn’t want him anywhere near me.

  We talked for a while longer about logistics and the layout of the castle. Gil was also assigned to get some background on the history of Kidwellah, and after he did a little more bellyaching about being the only one tasked with so much, Michel offered to do much of that for him.

  Like Gilley, I was kinda digging the photographer more and more. Around seven I suggested we break for dinner. Interestingly, all the paired groups immediately headed off in different directions, which left Heath and me at the table. “I’m sorry,” I said once we were alone.

  “For what?”

  “For saying yes to this gig.”

  Heath reached out and took my hand. Kissing the top of it, he said, “You’re right, you know.”

  “About what?”

  “About why your motivations are justified. If we left here knowing that Merrick and Lefebvre were chained to the Widow, it’d bother us until we worked our way back here to see if we could help.”

  I smiled knowingly. “And the extra cash helped convince me too.”

  “I know, but I wanted to give you some altruistic credit first.”

  “Good of you.”

  Heath leaned in and kissed me sweetly. “If we do end up surviving this thing, the money would solve a lot of problems. I mean, I could set my mom up in a nice house of her own instead of that cramped little condo, and I could get her some better medical care. You and I could hang out together without ever having to do another ghostbust again. We could do a few readings here and there just so we wouldn’t get rusty, and have a real life together, Em.”

  My mind drifted to that wonderful prospect, but was quickly overshadowed by doubt. “Truthfully, though, sweetie, is this too dangerous?”

  Heath sighed. “I don’t know. The Widow caught us both by surprise the first time, but the second time you got away from her, so she’s not infallible. We just have to be smarter than she is and make sure that we know as much as we can about where she can go and what she’s capable of.”

  I shuddered. “She’s the most powerful spook I’ve ever seen.”

  “But she’s not a demon,” Heath countered.

  “True, but she is keeping one for a pet,” I said, referring to that incredibly creepy black shadow that had terrorized John and me.

  “Yeah, but I think that, given John’s description, her pet demon is under her control. We shut her down, more than likely we shut it down.”

  I shook my head and stared at the tablecloth. “How the hell do you shut something like her down?”

  “Hey,” Heath said, getting my attention so that I would look him in the eyes. “Don’t go to that space that makes her more than she is, babe. Once upon a time she was a living, breathing person, which means, as a ghost, she’s vulnerable.”

  “Her portal,” I said, knowing where he was going with that.

  “Yep. We find her portal, we might be able to shut her in on the other side.”

  I shook my head again and added a sigh.

  “What?”

  “We can’t lock down her portal without making sure we free Merrick and the other spirits tied to her, or they’ll be trapped too.”

  Heath rubbed his chin. “That does complicate things, doesn’t it?”

  “And let’s not forget we’ve got a murderer on the loose,” I added.

  “See, that’s another thing I don’t understand: If Merrick and Lefebvre were both murdered, how did the Widow end up taking their spirits prisoner?”

  “I have no idea. But then, we don’t know if Merrick was truly murdered by someone other than the Widow. We only know that his hands may have been bound before he drowned.”

  Heath rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his head back and forth. I figured he was still sore from his bout with the Widow. “The one question we also need to find an answer to is why Merrick set us up in the south wing of the castle in the first place. I mean, he separated us from our crew and sent us to a seriously dangerous place. It’s like he wanted us to have an encounter there. Why’d he do that?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. I hadn’t the foggiest clue, and it really bothered me that someone so seemingly pleasant as Merrick Brown would put Heath and me in danger.

  Heath eyed me ruefully. “And yet you still want to help his ghost.”

  I shrugged. “We don’t know for certain he had any kind of unscrupulous intentions by sending us to the south wing.”

  “What other intentions could he have had?”

  “I’m not sure. And until I know for certain, I’m gonna give him the benefit of the doubt.”

  Heath chucked me playfully under the chin. “You’re a good person, Holliday.”

  “Thanks, Whitefeather.”

  Heath chuckled again, but then he sobered and leaned forward to cup my face and stare hard at me. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Nope.”

  His eyes softened. “As long as you’re confident.”r />
  I grabbed his wrists. I was so tired of worrying, and thought we both needed a distraction. “I have an idea.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “How about we blow this Popsicle stand and go out on a date?”

  His brow rose. “You mean a date-date? As in, just you and me, some food, some wine, a little nooky under the table?”

  I grinned. “Something like that.”

  Heath didn’t even reply—he just stood and pulled me up with him. I laughed until I realized I really had to use the restroom. Promising to meet him out in the courtyard, I was dashing up the stairs heading for my room when I happened to spot Mrs. Hollingsworth and Mrs. Lefebvre in the hallway. The two were quite close to each other, and what was odd was that Mrs. Lefebvre didn’t look happy, and I don’t mean she didn’t look happy in that my-husband-just-died kind of way; she looked seriously pissed off.

  I couldn’t see Mrs. Hollingsworth’s face, but I did see her reach out to the other woman, only to have her hand slapped away. “Don’t you dare!” Lefebvre spat before she pushed the other woman rudely aside with her shoulder and marched down the hall toward me.

  Seeing me, she paused, but then she squared her shoulders, averted her gaze and passed by me as if she hadn’t noticed my existence.

  My eyes returned to Mrs. Hollingsworth, who was still turned away from me, and apparently on her cell phone. “You lied to me!” she said, but not very loudly, and truth be told, I wasn’t really sure that’s what she said. “I tell you, the situation is most desperate! I implore you to keep your word!”

  I stopped walking toward my room, uncomfortable with what I’d seen and was now overhearing. I wondered if maybe I should skip the bathroom break and move off without alerting Mrs. Hollingsworth that I was there. I still had a little bit of a soft spot for the poor battered woman, and even hearing her on the phone, I could tell that she was crying.

  I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t move off. I stood there listening, and hoping that if she turned around, I could fake the fact that I was eavesdropping.