Ghost Town

by Jason Hawes

  He looked at Drew. “Have you heard anything from Connie?”

  When they had woken in Forgotten Lore, Greg’s spirit was gone from Connie’s body. She had no memory of what had occurred while Greg was in control, and she was extremely confused and more than a little freaked out. Otherwise, she was seemingly no worse for the wear. Whether Amber’s wave had forced Greg to vacate his host or he had left voluntarily because their work was done, Trevor didn’t know. Greg was a pain in the ass, and he couldn’t condone his hijacking someone else’s body, but he was surprised to realize that he was going to miss the jerk—although he would never admit it to Drew and Amber.

  “I feel sorry for her,” Amber said. “One minute she’s walking into a restroom, and the next it’s almost twelve hours later, she’s in some bookstore she’s never seen before, and she’s drenched with river water.”

  “I wonder if she’ll check herself into her own hospital,” Trevor said.

  Drew smiled. “I doubt it. Knowing Connie, my guess is that she’ll work hard to suppress the experience and act like it never happened. I won’t be surprised if she doesn’t mention it at all when I get back to work tomorrow.”

  “Work? If I were you, my boy, I’d take a week off—at least!” They turned to see Carrington walking toward their table, grinning as if he was in fine humor today. He didn’t only look as if he had gotten a full night’s sleep, but he looked refreshed and recharged, as if he had just returned from a restful vacation.

  Erin, on the other hand, looked as bad as Jenn. Still, she managed a wan smile as she and Carrington joined them.

  Carrington had been there in the bookstore when they had awakened, wet but not drowned. Erin had escaped injury during the riot, probably because she had been unconscious through most of it. Her body showed no signs of the burns she had suffered or the sword thrust she had taken to the chest. As Drew had predicted, the injuries had all been in her mind, and when the Dark Lady’s spell was broken, Erin awoke, unhurt. Physically, at least. Psychologically was another matter, Trevor thought.

  “A vacation does sound good right now,” Amber said. “And it would give us time to pack up all my stuff. Not that I have all that much.”

  “Pack?” Trevor said. “Am I to take this as a sign that the two of you are going to quit hemming and hawing and move in together?”

  Both Amber and Drew smiled.

  “Yes,” Amber said. “I’m going to move into Drew’s place in Chicago and start looking for work. Who knows? Maybe I’ll start taking classes at one of the colleges there, too.”

  “You could always hang out your shingle as a ‘psychic advisor,’ ” Carrington said. “You are prodigiously talented in that area.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think I want to give up my amateur standing just yet. I don’t know what field I might want to go into. I thought I might start by taking classes that I find interesting and see where they lead me.”

  “Good plan,” Trevor said. “Just don’t let Drew try to talk you into studying psychology. One headshrinker on our team is enough.”

  “In that case, she shouldn’t go into journalism,” Drew shot back. “One loud-mouthed writer on our team is enough.”

  Trevor grinned, picked up his beer, raised it to Drew in a mock toast, and took a sip.

  “I’m just glad things weren’t worse,” Jenn said.

  Erin turned toward her, showing some animation for the first time since she sat down.

  “Worse? Ray, Sarah, and Pattie died yesterday, and so did Chief Hoffman. How could it possibly have been any worse?”

  In the aftermath of all the chaos and confusion, it had taken a while for them to get hold of the police. But eventually, they had, and that’s when they learned of Sarah’s and Pattie’s deaths.

  Jenn’s jaw muscles tightened, but she managed to remain calm. “I was thinking about all the people at the parade. Who knows how many would’ve died if the Dark Lady hadn’t been stopped?”

  They had defeated the Dark Lady, but not before a half-dozen additional people were killed in the street and dozens more had been injured.

  Erin still looked upset, but she didn’t argue any further. Trevor thought he understood. Ray, Sarah, and Pattie had been her crew, her friends, and she felt responsible for their deaths.

  “I keep wondering if there was something we could’ve done to stop her sooner,” Amber said. “If we had—”

  “It’s normal to feel that way,” Drew said. “I’ve thought the same thing, and so has Trevor, I bet.”

  Trevor nodded, and Drew continued. “But the only one responsible for any of the deaths that happened—if the word one applies—is the Dark Lady. We need to be like Jenn and try to focus on all the lives we did save.”

  “There’s one death she wasn’t responsible for,” Amber said.

  “That wasn’t your fault,” Trevor said. “You were in the center of the Dark Lady’s power. With all the psychokinetic energy flying around, you couldn’t help tapping into it. It’s what allowed you to manifest that gigantic wave—” He turned to Jenn. “With some help. It’s what saved us all.”

  “It didn’t save Mitch,” she said softly.

  Greg had told them that illusions could kill if they were charged with enough power. When Amber had manifested a sword and plunged it into Mitch’s heart, the resultant energy discharge had caused him to suffer cardiac arrest. Unlike Erin, who had fallen to an illusory sword of far less power, he would never get up again. Trevor wasn’t planning on shedding any tears for Mitch Sagers, but he wished he hadn’t died, if only so his death wouldn’t lie heavily on Amber’s conscience.

  Jenn reached across the table and took Amber’s hand. “I know you didn’t want to hurt him. You only wanted to stop him. But the things he planned to do to you—and me . . . The Dark Lady may have pushed him over the edge, but I can tell you this: she didn’t have to push very hard. Trevor’s right. You save us. Saved me. And I’ll always be grateful.”

  Amber met Jenn’s gaze, and the two women smiled at each other. Jenn squeezed Amber’s hand once before letting go.

  “Have you seen the video of last night?” Carrington asked. “It’s absolutely chilling.”

  “How could we miss it?” Trevor said. “Seems like it’s been playing nonstop on every TV channel and Internet news site in existence.”

  True to what they had told the Dark Lady, the media had descended in force on Exeter in the aftermath of the riot. The story was too juicy to ignore: mysterious deaths occurring in the Most Haunted Town in America, culminating in a full-on riot during a Halloween parade. Several local TV stations had been on hand during the action, in addition to parade goers who had escaped being caught in the Dark Lady’s spell. Parade goers with video cameras and cell phones. Footage of the riot, both professional and amateur, had begun showing up on news stations and the Internet almost immediately. Much of the video had been distorted by electronic interference, but enough of it remained clear. Exeter had possessed a certain small amount of fame before, but after this, it would be forever infamous. If paranormal investigators and enthusiasts had been drawn to the town before, they would come in droves after this. The Dark Lady had created the very situation she had wanted to avoid. Trevor doubted that would be any comfort to those who had died and their loved ones, though.

  “The images are horrible,” Amber said. “Somehow it’s even worse that none of the Dark Lady’s illusions were recorded. Seeing ordinary people attack each other so savagely . . .” She trailed off.

  “I’m a little ashamed to admit this,” Trevor said, “but part of me is disappointed that the illusions didn’t show up on film. If they had, then we finally would’ve had definitive proof of the existence of the supernatural.”

  “Certain open-minded individuals might believe such images,” Carrington said, “along with those already predisposed to believe, of course. But most people would tell themselves it was all just special effects. A trick created by some computer program. They don’t want to
believe. They need to pretend they live in a sane, rational universe. If they knew that beings such as the Dark Lady existed among them, they would never feel safe again.” He paused and then added, “I know I won’t, not completely.” Carrington turned to Erin. “I know it may be too early to ask this, my dear, but have you considered what you’re going to do about your film?”

  She glared at him. “Why? Afraid that all the fabulous footage we shot of you pontificating will go to waste?”

  Carrington stiffened, but he managed to keep his tone even as he replied. “Believe it or not, after last night, I’ve rather lost my taste for the limelight. I was thinking about you. I would think continuing to work on the project would be extremely difficult for you after everything that’s happened. But on the other hand, not finishing it might be just as difficult.”

  Erin continued glaring at him for a moment, but then she sighed, and the anger drained out of her. “You’re right. The last thing I want to do now is make a film about ghosts. I don’t care how much publicity it might get or how much it might advance my career. But I don’t want to throw away all the work that Alex, Ray, Sarah, and Pattie did. I don’t know what to do.”

  Drew looked thoughtful. “Maybe you could keep a lot of what you’ve already shot but change the focus of your film.”

  “What do you mean?” Erin said.

  “Covering the town’s reputation for paranormal activity is the obvious approach,” Drew said. “But there’s another story behind that, a story most people don’t know about.”

  Amber smiled. “You’re talking about the flood victims.”

  “That’s a great idea!” Trevor said. “After last night, so many other people are going to report on Exeter, and that means your original approach will no longer be so original. Focusing on the flood victims will give your film a fresh slant.”

  “Plus, it would be a nice tribute to those who died in the flood,” Amber said. “Who knows? It might even make them rest easier.”

  “And you can dedicate the film to the memory of your crew,” Carrington said.

  Erin thought about it for several moments, and then she slowly smiled. “It could work,” she said. “And I think the gang would appreciate it.”

  “I’m sure they would,” Carrington said. “I don’t know if I’m the right person for that sort of film, but I’ll be happy to help out in any way I can, either in front of or behind the camera.”

  “Thanks,” Erin said, genuine gratitude in her voice.

  “When will you find the time?” Trevor said to Carrington. “Won’t you be too busy writing a book about what happened this weekend?” He didn’t mean for it to come out as snotty as it sounded, but he didn’t take his words back.

  Carrington didn’t appear offended, however. “I think that I’ll leave the writing chores to you from now on. Despite how frightening it all was, and putting aside for the moment the terrible losses that occurred, this weekend I finally had the chance to experience the paranormal up close and personal.” He smiled. “A little too close, I’m afraid. Still, I’m grateful to have had that experience. In many ways, it’s the culmination of my career. But it also showed me that I’ve spent my entire adult life focusing on death. I think I’m going to try focusing on life for a change, while I still can.”

  Trevor smiled. “When I was a kid, you were a hero of mine, Arthur. When I grew up, though, I began to view you as a showman, a carnival barker of the paranormal shouting for people to hurry and see the freak show. But after this weekend . . . well, let’s just say that as far as I’m concerned, you can bust a ghost with the best of them.”

  Carrington inclined his head. “Thank you, my friend.”

  “And if I do end up writing a book about this weekend, I hope you’ll consider penning the introduction for it.”

  Carrington smiled. “It would be my honor.”

  The six of them talked for a while longer, but when Trevor suggested that they get some lunch, Carrington and Erin begged off. Despite his rested appearance, Carrington said that he was still tired and wanted to return to the bed-and-breakfast to rest, and Erin was his ride. They all exchanged contact information and promised to stay in touch, but Trevor wondered if they would. He knew what it was like to live with the memory of a traumatic experience, and sometimes the last thing you wanted was a reminder of it.

  When Carrington and Erin had gone, Trevor said, “I got an e-mail from my editor this morning. She’s really excited about the Lowry House book, and she’s decided to put it on the fast track to publication. She’s already working on scheduling a book tour, and she’s come up with a cool publicity angle. She wants me to sign books in towns with paranormal sites that I can investigate.” He grinned at Drew and Amber. “And she wants the two of you to come with me.”

  Drew and Amber looked at each other, silently conferring. Amber smiled and nodded, and Drew said, “I’ll have to see what I can do about taking time off work, but why not? It could be fun.”

  “Excellent!” Trevor said. He turned to Jenn and asked, perhaps a bit too casually, “And you?”

  “Huh? Oh, sorry. I was thinking that I need to go pack up my book table. They’ll be closing the Exhibition Hall soon.”

  Trevor glanced at Drew and Amber, and they both gave him encouraging looks.

  “How about I come along and help?” he said.

  She gave him a small smile. “Sure, thanks.”

  He told himself that it wasn’t a lack of enthusiasm he heard in her voice. It was just weariness.

  They didn’t speak at first as they walked through the hotel’s hallways. The day before, the halls had been filled with conference attendees, many of them in costume. This day, there was hardly anyone around besides Trevor and Jenn, and those who were present wore street clothes.

  “How are you doing?” Trevor finally asked.

  Jenn didn’t answer at first, and when she did, she didn’t look at him. “I honestly don’t know. I should feel all kinds of emotions, but I don’t feel much of anything. I just feel numb.”

  “That’s only to be expected,” Trevor said. “After everything you went through—”

  She did turn to look at him now. “But you went through it, too, and so did Drew and Amber. But none of you seem all that upset. The easy way you were talking . . . and you even joked a little.”

  “Believe me, we were shaken up by this experience, too. It’s just that we’ve lived with the knowledge that the supernatural is real ever since we were teenagers. And then, after what happened at the Lowry House . . .”

  “You get used to it?”

  He shook his head. “No, but it helps you deal, you know?”

  She gave him a blank look, and he knew she didn’t understand. He decided to let the subject drop. She needed time to process her emotions, he told himself. She would be fine. Eventually.

  Time to try again, he decided. “Would you like to come along? On the book tour, I mean.”

  They reached the Exhibition Hall and walked in. Half of the booths and tables were empty, and the remaining vendors were in the process of packing up.

  “Why?” she asked. “I mean, I had nothing to do with the Lowry House. Hell, until yesterday, I didn’t believe things like that existed. Why would your publisher want me to come along?”

  They reached Jenn’s table. She walked behind it, picked up a cardboard box from the floor, set it on the tabletop, and began filling it with books. Trevor grabbed another box and began doing the same.

  “The publisher doesn’t want you to come,” he said. “I do.”

  She stopped packing and turned to look at him. Her expression was unreadable, and Trevor, suddenly nervous, hurried to explain.

  “I thought maybe it would be good for you to get out of town for a while. It might help you get some distance from what happened. And it would be great to have you along. You know, so we could spend more time together.”

  She smiled and reached out to touch his cheek gently. “Trevor . . .”

&nb
sp; He forced a smile of his own. “Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.”

  “It’s sweet of you to ask, and under different circumstances, I think I would take you up on it. But you’re part of what happened, and so are Amber and Drew. I don’t know if I could stop thinking about this weekend if I came with you. How could I, with the three of you signing your book about the Lowry House and investigating spooky sites in the towns you visit? I would be living with the paranormal in one way or another every day.”

  “But things like last night aren’t exactly common occurrences,” he said.

  “I used to think they couldn’t occur at all. Can you promise me that something like that won’t happen again?”

  Trevor sighed. “No, I can’t.”

  “That’s what I thought.” She lowered her hand from his cheek. “I’m going to clean up the mess in the bookstore and then put it up for sale, cheap. After that, I’m going to move away from Exeter. I don’t know where I’ll go yet. I have relatives in Alabama I haven’t seen for a while. Maybe I’ll visit them. But I don’t really care where I end up, just as long as I get out of this town.”

  “I understand,” Trevor said, working to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

  “Now, listen to me closely, Trevor Ward. I am not saying I never want to see you again. I just need some time, OK? I fully expect you to call, text, and e-mail me from time to time. And you damned sure better ‘like’ all my status updates on Facebook. Understand?”