The Phantom Queen

by Yasmine Galenorn

“Try to remember. What happened before you came running into the bushes?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment before a look of terror spread across her face. Oh my God. The knife. Over and over. I remember the knife was so sharp, and he kept laughing as he stabbed me. Emmet—he tied up Emmet, I remember now. I thought I had gotten away, I ran into the woods when he grabbed Emmet, but the man followed me, and I couldn’t get away. He dragged me back to the car, telling me to shut the F up or he’d kill Emmet. And then…the knife. I begged him to stop but he kept laughing.

  She was sobbing now, on her knees covering her eyes. I scooted closer and held out my hands, willing my touch to penetrate the barrier between us. I stroked her hair, feeling a ghostly softness beneath my fingers.

  “I know it’s so hard, but I’m here to help you. I can take you to the Veil, so you can move on into your new life. I can take you away from this memory, if you’ll trust me.”

  She looked up at me, her expression bleak. I’m never going to grow up, am I? I’ll never go to college, or get married. I’ll never have children. I’ll never do any of the things that my friends will do. After another pause, she added, What about my parents? And my little sister? I can’t stand that I’m going to hurt them like this.

  “It’s not your fault, Rosemary. None of this is fair, and none of this is your fault. But I can help. I can take them a message from you. What would you like me to tell them?”

  Rosemary sniffled then, wiping her cheeks. Tell them I love them, and that I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Tell my little sister she can have my things—I want her to have them. Tell her to take care of Mom and Dad for me. And please, tell them not to worry. I don’t want them to stop living. What about Emmet?

  As she spoke, I started to cry. She was so terribly sad. I wanted so much to give her what I couldn’t offer: the chance to grow up and become the woman she was meant to be.

  Why are you crying?

  “Because I wish I could help you more than I can. I can’t give you back your life, and I wish I could. But that’s not in my power. I can only help you to the Veil, so you don’t get stuck here and so you don’t have to relive this memory forever. As for Emmet, I’m sorry, but the murderer killed him, too. I’ll take him to the Veil as well, as soon as—” I froze as a silent figure slipped out of the forest behind Rosemary.

  For a moment, I was terrified that it might be the killer, returning for a souvenir, but it was a teenaged boy. I knew from the sight of him that he was Emmet. He wore his death mask, his torso slit from neck to his lower stomach. He was covered in blood, and his eyes flashed with anger and pain.

  Then he turned to me, and the anger vanished. You’re the spirit shaman, aren’t you? My mother said you had returned to take your grandma’s place.

  Rosemary screamed as she saw Emmet, backing away. No, oh Emmet, what did he do to you? Her words trembled with fear, and then with sorrow as reality crashed in on her.

  Emmet turned to me. How much does she remember?

  “Some, not all of it. She didn’t know she was dead till a moment ago,” I said softly.

  Emmet had watched the killer stab Rosemary and then rape her dead body. That had to be a heavy load for a young man. I shifted my focus to him, so that Rosemary wouldn’t hear. It was an odd ability, but I could talk to one ghost without another hearing what I was saying. Grandma Lila had left notes on how to do this in her journal, and it was a simple matter of concentration.

  “She doesn’t need to know the rest, Emmet. Maybe after she crosses the Veil she’ll remember, but until then, leave her alone about it.”

  You’ll take us to the Gatekeeper?

  “Yes, and I think it would help Rosemary if you can shift away from your death mask. If you go to meet Penelope together, I think it will be less traumatic for her, with you by her side.” Rosemary was so worried about her family that it might be hard to convince her to leave. “Also, I make the same promise to you that I did to her. I can take a message to your parents, if you would like me to.”

  Emmet sighed. Tell them I love them, and that I’ll be all right. Would you tell Rosemary’s parents that I tried to protect her? That I wanted to protect her?

  I could see the guilt washing over his face. “I will. But Emmet—there wasn’t anything you could have done.”

  I could have taken her to a safe place instead of suggesting we come up here. No—I know, but please, don’t try to make me feel better. I won’t let my guilt hold me here, but there are some things that are hard to let go of.

  My heart sinking, I nodded. “Is there anything you can tell me about the killer? Anything that Rosemary might not have remembered?”

  There is one thing that I don’t think she heard him say. As he was tying me up, he told me to sit still or I’d end up like the others. I don’t know what he meant but…

  “That sounds like there are more victims out there. Thank you, Emmet. Rosemary says he was tall and blond, around thirty?”

  That’s right. His backpack was leather and there was an embossed design on it of a skull and crossbones, with a star in the forehead of the skull. It’s odd what you remember, when everything is falling to pieces. But I distinctly remember wondering where he got the pack because it looked so cool. Even as he spoke, Emmet’s gruesome wounds began to vanish and by the time he finished, they were gone.

  Rosemary turned to him, her eyes widening. You aren’t hurt anymore?

  Emmet paused, glancing at me, then said, No, I’m not hurt anymore. Nothing can hurt me again—or you. Rosemary, we can’t spend the rest of our lives together like we thought, but we can go to the Veil together. He held out his hand. Will you go into death with me, like we would have gone into life together? He turned to me. I know it’s not official, but I want to marry her. Now. Will you…

  Tears streaming down my cheeks, I nodded. “Rosemary, would you like that?”

  She stood, edging out of the bushes. Yeah, I would.

  “Then hold hands. Do you pledge your love together? Will you walk into the great expanse, hand in hand, making your final journey together as husband and wife?”

  Emmet turned to Rosemary. I wanted to protect you, but I couldn’t. Now, I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy. I’ll be by your side as long as possible, loving you in death, even as I loved you in life. I would have asked you, you know. After we graduated. There’s never been anybody else, not since I met you in eighth grade.

  Rosemary smiled through her tears. I’ll come with you, wherever the journey takes us. I fell in love with you the day you helped my little sister when her bird died. You buried Budgie in the yard, and you made Tracy feel so special by taking the time to do that. Right then, I thought, if he’s like that with my sister, how would he be with children? So yes, I’ll walk with you, loving you in death, even as I loved you in life.

  “Then, by the power vested in me as a spirit shaman, I pronounce you husband and wife.” I paused as they kissed, their lips meeting gently in the snow-filled night. After a moment, I said, “I need you to meet me in the graveyard, at Penelope’s tomb. You know where it is, Emmet?”

  He nodded. We’ll meet you there. We’ll wait till you get there.

  As they shimmered out of sight, I lowered my head, weeping for the needless loss. Two bright spirits, snuffed out of life by one crazed psycho. But at least I could ease their way. I could help them make the transition. I could ease some of their regrets by delivering their last words to their parents. After a moment, I composed myself and turned back to the others, who were standing around watching me.

  “I don’t know how much you saw or heard,” I said.

  “I saw something in the bushes,” Peggin said, “but couldn’t make it out clearly.”

  Bryan held out his arms. “I heard some of what you were saying. You found them, didn’t you?”

  Nodding, I leaned my head against his shoulder. “It’s all such a waste. Such a horrible, vicious waste.”

  Turning to Sophia, I to
ld her everything Emmet and Rosemary had said. “It’s definitely one person, a white male, from what they said. Tall, blond, a scar or scab on his chin. Burly guy, with a leather backpack that has a skull and bones embossed on it, and a star in the forehead of the skull. And there’s something else you need to know. Something Penelope said.” I told her about the spirit of the girl named Nancy. “You may want to look through your missing persons reports to see if anybody has reported a teenager running away.”

  “Shit,” she said, paling. “If there’s another one, then that means a serial killer.”

  “Yeah, and from what Emmet said, it does sound like there’s more than one victim. I have to go back to the graveyard, to make sure Emmet and Rosemary meet Penelope. But I would like to give their messages to their parents, if you think it will help.” Most people in Whisper Hollow believed in ghosts and spirits. They were accepted as fact here, rather than as imagination.

  “I’ll call them down to the office tomorrow. Can you come in around three?”

  I nodded. “Meanwhile, you need to alert the public. People have to know there’s a danger. I realize it may mean he’ll go underground, but if you keep this quiet and it happens again, then you’ll be in deep shit with the public. And I really don’t want to have to talk to more dead teenagers. This isn’t easy.”

  “I know it’s not. I’ll call a press conference to make the eleven o’clock news tonight and ask them to run it again tomorrow.” Sophia sighed, hands on her hips. “I hate to think that he’s out there, waiting for his next victim. Frank, start searching for missing—”

  “Already am,” he said, staring at his tablet. “A girl named Nancy Westerford was reported missing last week. She’s a wild child. Her mother thought she was just staying overnight with a friend, like she does every now and then. She didn’t worry until the next night, when Nancy didn’t come home from school. Her mother called her friend and the girl said she hadn’t seen Nancy since school the day before. The mother reported her as a runaway, because Nancy was upset over the fact that her father was getting married again and Mrs. Westerford wasn’t going to allow her to attend the wedding. We contacted the father, but the girl wasn’t there.”

  “That would add up with what Penelope told me, timewise. How old was Nancy?” I asked.

  “Fourteen.” Frank frowned. “Did Penelope tell you where to find her body?”

  “No, unfortunately. But I’d start in these woods. Serial killers often pick a dump site, though if he’s new in town, let’s hope he hasn’t had a chance to establish one yet. At least he’s not dumping them in the lake. We’d never find them.” I walked back over to Bryan, frowning. There was something more to this case, and though I couldn’t pinpoint what, it bothered me. But for now, I had to let the police do their thing, and I needed to deliver Emmet and Rosemary to Penelope.

  As we headed back to the cemetery, I stared out the window, deep in thought. Peggin was quiet from the backseat, and Bryan didn’t have much to say either. It had been a long day, and all of us were tired. The sorrow over seeing those two young kids die before their time was clinging to me like Saran Wrap. I tried to shake it off, but even after I met them in the graveyard and escorted them into Penelope’s waiting embrace, I couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Rosemary’s face when she realized she was dead.

  Some days, it just didn’t pay to get out of bed.

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning, I was up and dressed by six a.m. I had planned on sleeping in, but my dreams were fitful, and finally, after waking up once an hour all night long, I gave up and wearily padded into the bathroom, letting the steam roll over me as I tried to wake up in the shower.

  I was almost ready to turn off the water when Bryan joined me. He slid his arms around me, pulling me back against him, and I closed my eyes as he ran his hands up and down my body, cupping my breasts, lingering over my nipples. He leaned down and kissed the nape of my neck, and I moaned slightly as I felt his arousal. He pressed against me, hard and urgent.

  “I want you,” I whispered. “Do you have—”

  “Right here,” he whispered back, reaching into one of the shower caddies to pull out a condom. He ripped the package open with his teeth and I turned, taking the rubber from him. I knelt in front of him, eye-level with his smooth, hard cock, and began to roll the condom over his erection. He let out a gasp, reaching to brace himself against the shower wall. When I was done, he pulled me up to face him, for a long, luxurious kiss. Then he leaned down to kiss my throat, and still farther to trail kisses down my chest, taking one of my breasts in his mouth as he tugged on the nipple.

  “I love your breasts,” he said, his voice throaty and deep. “I love your breasts, your ass, your legs—everything about you.” And then he was on his knees, pushing me back up against the shower wall. “Spread your legs.”

  I did, grabbing hold of the hand railing on the back of the shower, closing my eyes as the water streamed down on us. Bryan settled between my legs, his tongue bathing me with a rough urgency. He circled my clit, and with each touch, I tensed, hungry to have him inside me, and yet—I wasn’t quite ready. I wanted to reach that peak, to let go and fall over the edge before he rode me. Bryan seemed to sense my feelings and set to in earnest. I moaned again as his tongue laved my clit, sending me higher and higher. With one hand, I cupped my breast, squeezing and pinching my nipple, while with the other I held onto the railing.

  Bryan glanced up. “I love it when you caress your breasts,” he said, throaty. “Touch yourself. Let me watch you.” He pulled away, crouching in the shower as the water streamed over us.

  I slid my other hand down over my stomach, down to my inner lips, where I slipped two fingers inside. As I began to circle my clit, the feeling of him watching set me off. I rubbed harder, feeling wanton and wayward. The water streamed over my head, slicking my hair to my body.

  Bryan watched, his shaft fully erect as his eyes began to gleam. Then, when I was almost reaching a peak, he lunged forward. He took my hand and licked each finger. “You taste like honey,” he said, drawing me down to the floor of the shower. As I laid back, bending my knees, he dipped his head between them again and this time, it took only a moment till I climaxed, every chord within me reverberating through my body. I let out a shriek and then he was looming over me, sliding into me as his chest met my breasts.

  The soap and water made us slippery, and the feel of his skin against mine was like silk. I arched my back as he drove himself between my legs, pinning me to the floor. His girth spreading me wide, he began to thrust, building up friction.

  Then, in one smooth motion, he wrapped his hands around my waist and rolled, bringing me up to ride him. I arched my back, aware that the water was quickly cooling, but we were so far into the sex haze that it didn’t matter. As the lukewarm drops began to beat on my back, I arched my back some more, sliding down his shaft, and let out a cry as he slid a finger between my legs, once again bringing me to climax. Then, before I was back to myself, he grabbed my waist, holding me tight against him, his cock deep into my sex. The next moment, he stiffened, thrusting as he let out a growl, coming so hard that I could feel his cock pulse inside of me.

  A moment later, we lay spent on the floor of the shower, the water now a brisk chill as it still streamed over us, washing away the scent of our passion.

  Thoroughly awake now, I was grateful for the heat of the blow dryer as I styled my hair. It was long and wavy, a deep brunette that was the color of strong coffee. I used mousse and a light layer of hair spray to hold the waves that tumbled down my shoulders. After putting on my makeup, I got dressed, choosing a pair of black corduroy jeans and a cobalt blue V-neck sweater. I buckled my belt—black leather—and slipped on a pair of scuffs that I wore around the house when I didn’t want to wear shoes.

  A glance outside the window told me it was still snowing, and we had about six inches on the ground now. The chill penetrated through the window, and my breath fogged up when I leaned
against it, looking at the blanketed ground outside.

  “Breakfast!” Bryan called from the kitchen.

  I headed out to find him serving up waffles, bacon, and eggs, along with hot mocha.

  “You’re spoiling me,” I said, grinning as I slid into my chair and draped my napkin over my lap.

  “Wait till we’re married.” He winked at me, setting a plate in front of me.

  Bryan had proposed last month, and I was wearing what would have been my mother’s wedding ring. It was rose gold, the filigree wrapping around a center diamond that was at least half a carat, faceted into what was known as an old European cut. The diamond shimmered under the light. It had belonged to my father’s great-grandmother. Ivy had given it to him, and Avery had given it to my mother, but they never had the chance to be married. Now, the ring would forever stand for both Avery and Tamil, and Bryan and me.

  “What are you doing today?” I asked around a mouthful of waffle.

  “I’m talking to my accountant and putting the majority of my businesses up for sale. A couple that are easily run and good moneymakers, I’ll hand over to a manager—a qualified one, this time—and let them ride.” He stopped me before I could say anything. “Not a word. I’m good with this, it’s what I want to do.”

  My phone dinged and I picked it up, checking my text messages. There was a message from Penelope: veronica requires a meeting with you. meet her tonight at nine o’clock in her lair. you may bring your guardian.

  “Holy fuck. Veronica wants to see me tonight at nine. What does she want?” I glanced over at Bryan. “Can you make it?”

  “Of course I can. You’d better let Ellia know.” He shouldered his messenger bag. “I’m off. I’ll be back by around five. Call or text me if you need me before then.”

  I nodded absently as he kissed me and slipped out the back door, heading over to his house. What could Veronica want? She wasn’t given to small talk or chatter. When the Queen of the Unliving summoned you, there was always a reason. The only way I’d find out was to be patient and show up at her lair tonight.