by Jana DeLeon
“Because the magic of the stone protected them,” Monte said.
“So what happened to them after that?” Dane asked.
“The legend says they settled in what would eventually become Everlasting. That they buried the stone somewhere and that’s what brought the original magic to this area.”
“What did the stone look like?”
“Green,” Monte said, “and the size of a walnut.”
“An emerald,” Dane said. “I guess that fits. Emeralds offer protection at sea and are the stones of rebirth.”
Monte raised one eyebrow at him.
“What?” Dane asked. “You think I’ve lived here my entire life and haven’t picked up on some things? Doesn’t mean I buy into it, but I can respect that other people do.”
Sam nodded. “That’s what I always say. All the fanciful tales aren’t hurting anyone. In fact, they probably keep a bit of the town’s money supply flowing.”
“Probably,” Dane said. “So how come I’ve never heard this story?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever known but a handful of people who knew it,” Sam said. “My grandmother told it to me, but my mother wasn’t a believer in such things, so the story passed along when my grandmother did. I imagine that’s the way it was with most families.”
Monte nodded. “People can easily believe in buried gold coins because they’ve been found and the pillaging of pirates is documented, but who’s going to swear to the existence of a magic stone touched by a man that most say never existed?”
Dane frowned. “I don’t know.”
But he wondered.
Chapter Five
Zoe stepped out of the shower and grabbed a thick white towel to dry off. It felt like Kleenex against her skin and she made a mental note to ask Sapphire where she’d gotten them. Zoe wasn’t one to spend a lot of money on luxury items, but these towels would be worth a dip in her bank account.
She combed through her hair and left it hanging loose to dry. It was the one advantage to having board-straight hair—no styling required. No matter what she did to it, her hair always looked the same with ten minutes of gravity working on it. One less thing to hassle with. She pulled on her turquoise-and-pink pajamas, stuck her feet in her fuzzy pink slippers, and headed down to the kitchen to see about dinner.
She’d picked up an extra sandwich when she’d made the food run for Sapphire. Right now, the roast beef sandwich and sea-salt-and-cracked-pepper chips she’d snagged sounded as good as filet mignon and scalloped potatoes. She’d skipped breakfast entirely and had picked at a salad for lunch while Sapphire ate clam chowder. Hunger hadn’t even entered Zoe’s thoughts earlier, but now she was starving.
She grabbed the sandwich, the chips, and a diet soda and flopped into the recliner, deciding it had been surprisingly comfortable earlier. The television remote was on a table next to the chair, so she turned on the TV and kicked back to watch some of those complainers on HGTV and eat her dinner. She’d just finished her sandwich and yelling at a couple who wanted an updated mansion for a budget of a hundred thousand when her cell phone rang. She grabbed her phone off the end table and was surprised to see Dane’s name in the display.
“Hello?”
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said.
“It’s only eight o’clock. I’m a good forty years away from going to bed this early.”
He laughed. “Fair enough, but you were exhausted earlier and I figure you didn’t sleep well after traveling, so I thought you might have called it quits sooner than usual.”
The thought had definitely crossed her mind, but now that she’d had a shower and food, she felt a hundred percent better. “I still might turn in early,” she said, “but not quite yet. Is something wrong?”
“No. But there was something I wanted to share with you.”
He told her about his stopping by the Magic Eight Ball and his conversation with Monte and Sam. “Have you ever heard that story?”
“I don’t think so, and I thought I’d heard them all.”
“It probably doesn’t mean anything,” he said. “But I thought I’d tell you so that you could ask Sapphire about it. I figure if anyone knows about a magic emerald buried somewhere in Everlasting, it would be her.”
“I guess treasure seekers looking for a stone that likely never existed is as good a possibility as any. And one I could live with a lot better than someone breaking into Sapphire’s home just to hurt her.”
“If that’s the case, then whoever did it better hope Deputy February catches them before I do.”
A flood of warmth washed over Zoe. Sapphire might not have any blood relatives left in Everlasting, but it was nice to know people cared so much about her. Despite everything that had happened between them, Dane was a good guy. It was just a shame that there were so many differences in what they wanted out of life. And not the negotiable, meet-in-the-middle kind of differences. In order for them to have stayed together, one of them would have had to abandon everything important to them. Neither had been willing to do that.
“I really appreciate everything you’re doing,” Zoe said.
“No way am I letting you deal with this alone. I’m going to hop in the shower myself. Try to get some rest.”
Zoe said goodbye and blew out a breath. Great. Now she was imagining Dane in the shower. The image was nice but not remotely restful. She hopped out of the recliner and headed through the makeshift kitchen and into the laundry room…where the firing squad awaited.
All ten cats were lined up, glaring at her, their empty food bowls behind them.
“Crap!” Zoe tossed out her sandwich wrapper and opened the cabinet. The cats had all been camped out in their selected spot of sunlight when she’d gone upstairs earlier, but apparently, the dinner bell had rung and she’d missed the cue.
The cans of cat food were stacked by flavor with a label on the shelf that indicated which cat the meal belonged to. Ten cats. Six different flavors. That was a lot to keep straight. No wonder Sapphire had labels, and thank goodness for it. When Zoe left home, all her aunt’s cats had eaten the same dry food. Apparently, everyone had gotten an attitude and a subsequent dietary upgrade. Or maybe Sapphire had decided the fancy food was deserved because of the whole toilet thing.
She opened the cans and dumped the food into the individually marked bowls, then stood back, waiting for the cat fight she figured was coming. Amazingly, each cat went to its own bowl and started eating without incident. Zoe had never really believed her aunt could actually communicate with animals, but she’d be the first to admit that Sapphire definitely had a way with them. One of her coworkers in LA had one cat and went through a set of mini-blinds every other week.
But as far as Zoe was concerned, the most impressive thing Sapphire had accomplished was no litter boxes. It sometimes meant the bathroom you rushed to might be in use, and Zoe knew firsthand you definitely didn’t pop into one in the middle of the night without turning on a light, but it was a small price to pay for no litter scooping. If Sapphire could teach other people how to do it, she’d make a mint.
With her culinary responsibilities wrapped up for the night and a new burst of energy coursing through her, Zoe decided to forgo the early bedtime and instead head up to her aunt’s bedroom and go through the journals. Zoe didn’t believe for a minute that a magical emerald was somewhere on the property, but it was entirely possible that someone thought hidden treasure could be contained in the lighthouse, or that Sapphire had information on said treasure in the old documents she’d kept. Her aunt had never made a secret about the journals’ existence. In fact, she’d talk about the old legends and tales to anyone who would listen.
Zoe made a mental note to ask her aunt if she’d told those stories to anyone new lately, but was afraid with the festival going on, there could be a long list of strangers who’d been inundated with tales from Sapphire in the line at the grocery store, the coffee shop, random places on the sidewalk downtown, and pretty much anywhere e
lse Sapphire could manage a captive audience for her favorite subject.
She headed upstairs to her aunt’s bedroom and was surprised to find the entire room had been redone. A light blue paint covered the previously dull brown walls, and new distressed white furniture filled the room. The headboard and footboard of the bed looked like planks from an old ship, and a matching dresser stood on the opposite wall. A row of bookcases lined the longest wall and a small desk stood right in front of the picture window that looked out over the ocean. A white quilt with blue seashells and matching pillowcases covered the bed.
Zoe sighed. It was perfect and lovely, and she was so happy her aunt had finally spent some money on herself. Sapphire was incredibly generous with local charities and the care of her cats, but always balked at spending money on her own behalf. Zoe had to admit that after all those years of pushing her own desires aside, her aunt was making up for lost time.
She crossed the room and stepped into the bathroom, expecting greatness after seeing the bedroom, and she wasn’t disappointed. The same blue paint from the bedroom was carried into the bathroom. White marble tile covered the floor and made up the sides of a shower stall in the corner. But the focal point was the claw-foot tub in the center of the back wall. Zoe didn’t even want to imagine what it had taken to get the tub upstairs, but no matter how much trouble it had been, it was all worth it. The entire suite was absolutely perfect.
She stepped back into the bedroom and headed over to the bookcases. The journals took up two shelves. It was going to be a long night. Zoe snagged a stack of them and headed over to the desk. At least she’d have a beautiful view while she worked.
The sun had long since disappeared, but the moon hung over the ocean like a giant spotlight, reflecting on the ripples of current. In the distance, Zoe could see the tiny lights of approaching ships and the brighter glow of the channel markers, guiding them back to port. It was so peaceful and serene and nothing like the loud, busy parking lot her studio apartment in LA looked out over.
She grabbed the first journal off the stack and opened it up, trying to block where her thoughts had headed. Everything had a cost. And her career meant living in a large urban area. LA was a prime market, and she had a highly desirable job positioned perfectly for the career she’d always wanted. A great view would have to wait until she was so popular she could demand a high salary. Or until she won the lottery.
She shook her head and turned her attention to the journal, scanning the text for any references to jewels, coins, treasure, pirates, secrets, or hidden things. It took her an hour to review the first five journals and she’d found exactly nothing. Except an inordinate number of references to the size of the catch for the day and the number of available women in various ports along the coastline.
Her back was protesting sitting so long without movement, so she rose from the chair and stretched, deliberating heading downstairs to snag the sack of cookies she’d picked up at the coffee shop. Sapphire wasn’t the only one with a weakness for cranberry cookies. As she headed for the door, she heard a noise downstairs. It was faint, but it sounded as if something had fallen onto the hardwood floor. The rug would have masked the sound, and tile produced a higher pitch when things hit it, so she surmised it came from the living room.
Chastising herself for not bringing the Mace upstairs with her, she eased over to her aunt’s nightstand and opened it, praying her aunt kept a spare. She had one in her suitcase, but that was in her bedroom and there was no way to get to it quickly or to open the suitcase without making a lot of noise. She felt a bit of relief when she saw another can of Mace in the corner of the drawer and pulled it out. Her cell phone was on the desk, and she grabbed it with her left hand. Briefly, she considered calling Dane, but the last thing she wanted to do was get him over here late at night because one of the cats was strolling across tables, likely protesting Sapphire’s absence or their delayed dinner.
She’d head downstairs and if the noise got worse or she decided it was more racket than cats could make, then she’d hurry back upstairs, lock herself in her aunt’s room, and call Dane and the cops. It was a solid plan.
Clutching the Mace and the phone, she crept down the stairs, wincing every time the wood creaked. The lighthouse was eerily silent, which was a plus for her being able to hear someone else but also a negative for them being able to hear her. Besides, it just felt creepy. Like even the air was still.
She made it to the second-floor landing and paused to listen, but nothing stirred downstairs and not even a wisp of air could be heard outside. She drew in a deep breath and said a quick prayer. It was now or never.
She slipped around the stairwell wall and headed down the last stretch of stairs to the first floor. This was it. Either it was nothing but a cat or she might be in for the same scenario as her aunt. Only in her case, she wasn’t going to make it easy on them and fall. She was going to go out in a blaze of Mace-spraying glory.
The narrow stairwell allowed for a limited view of the rooms below. Basically, all she could see was a stretch from the bottom of the stairs and halfway to the front door. The good news was, there was no storm, and she’d left the light on downstairs. So far, so good. No noise and no sign of movement, at least from her limited viewpoint.
When she reached the last step, she paused again to steady her nerves, then with her finger on the Mace trigger, she jumped off the last step into the living room, arm in front of her and Mace ready to fire. She scanned the room, her head twisting back as forth so quickly it would probably be sore tomorrow morning, but she didn’t see anything.
Frowning, she lowered her arm and walked into the center of the living room, checking the floor for anything that used to be sitting on a table. When she reached an occasional table in front of a window, she found the culprit. An old compass that usually sat on the table was on the floor directly in front of it, and the doily that covered the table was slid over to one side.
It was just one of the cats having a moment.
Zoe sighed and wondered how long it would take her heart to stop pounding so loudly that she could practically hear it. This was yet one more reason she was not getting a pet. She wasn’t at home enough for one anyway, but the cats’ habit of spooking for no reason and suddenly needing to be in another room was something she didn’t want to deal with on a daily basis. She didn’t get enough sleep as it was. The last thing she needed was a sketchy cat sprinting through her studio apartment all night, and there was enough going on in the parking lot below her unit to spook a veteran cop, much less a cat.
Since she was already downstairs, she decided to grab a soda and the cookies. As long as she wasn’t sleepy, she might as well continue reviewing the journals. And that review would be a lot more pleasant with little bites of cranberry-and-vanilla goodness.
Given that her pajamas had no pockets, her hands were full as she made her way back upstairs. If this packhorsing up and down the stairs continued for more than two days, she was ordering a pink fanny pack to match her pajamas. Or maybe a backpack. That would leave her hands free for the cell phone and Mace.
Her mind focused on the cookies, she took the last few steps at a half jog and stepped into her aunt’s bedroom, ready to open the bag and get down to the most important business of the night. And then she realized she wasn’t alone.
The half-dressed man stood in the middle of Sapphire’s bedroom, a confused expression on his face. In keeping with every B horror movie that Zoe had ever watched, she screamed and dropped everything she’d been carrying, including the phone and the Mace.
Immediately, she squatted, then panicked over which item to pick up first. Finally she settled on the Mace, figuring she’d disable him first, then call for help. She sprang up and leveled the can at him. His eyes widened and he put up a hand to protest, but she wasn’t having any of it.
“Take that,” she said, and pressed the trigger on the can.
The stream of liquid flew directly at the man’s face and then passed
right through him and arced onto the floor behind him. He turned around to look down at the liquid pooling on the floor, then turned back around to face Zoe again.
“It can’t be,” she said. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“That’s good to hear,” the man said. “It means I’m not really dead.”
Zoe stared at him, unable to blink, unable to think. This couldn’t be happening. She must be imagining it.
Again?
Okay, having the same waking nightmare twice didn’t seem viable, especially when her aunt had described her nightmare down to the plaid boxers, but Zoe still wasn’t ready to run with the whole ghost thing. Not yet.
She reached over with her left hand and pinched her arm, narrowing her eyes at the man. Nope. He was still there. She pinched harder.
“You’re going to bruise if you keep doing that,” he said. “Let me make this easy on you. My name is Cornelius and I’m dead.”
“No.” Zoe shook her head. “You can’t be real, because that would mean that witches and werewolves and fairies might exist as well.”
“What are you talking about? Fairies haven’t been seen in centuries. I knew quite a few witches in my time, but not the kind that could cast a spell.” He started laughing and Zoe stared, not sure whether to cry or drink. So far, drinking was winning.
She took a step toward him, then another, and when she was close enough, she leaned forward and reached out with her fingertips to touch him. She drew back her hand when it passed right through him and the air was colder.
“I don’t believe it,” she said. “You’re real. A ghost. And real.”
“You don’t look so good,” he said. “Maybe you should sit down or breathe into a paper bag or something.”
“Sitting will work,” she said, moving over to the chair in front of the desk and sliding onto it.
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, then slowly blew it out, but when she opened her eyes again, he was still standing there.
