The next thing I knew, something sharp dug into my side. My eyes flew open.
Meghan was giving me that You’re an idiot look I’d grown so fond of. Larry brushed past me on his way off the bus, pausing to clap me on the shoulder.
“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty. Lunch time.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling dumb. I pulled myself up, the legs of my jeans filled with quicksand. I must have slept for over an hour and I was still exhausted.
Rubbing away the sleep that had crusted around my eyelids, I hurried after Larry, praying I wouldn’t get stuck at another table with Meghan.
But of course I did. We were the last two off the bus.
Kate was sitting at the other table, but she met my eyes when I staggered into the restaurant. She wasn’t smiling any longer. As soon as I sat down, she came over.
“Are you okay?” She kept her voice low, which I appreciated, but Meghan apparently had ears like a bat. She glared in our direction, not making the slightest attempt to hide the fact she was listening to our conversation. “Erik told me what happened.”
I really wished he hadn’t. It wasn’t a secret or anything, but I didn’t want the entire group yapping about it. No matter what I said, at least half the people on the tour would think the chick had been a one-night stand and that I’d gotten what was coming to me.
“Yeah, I’m fine. A bit weirded out, you know?” Talk about the understatement of the year.
“I would think so—it’s really disturbing that she managed to get in your room. Do you think she’s dangerous?”
Shrugging, I hoped I seemed unconcerned, like it didn’t faze me in the least that an insane Chinese woman had broken into my cabin. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Did you tell Harold yet?”
The man in question was in the middle of his usual pre-lunch interrogation, asking how hungry we were and getting another reminder about the complicated dietary requirements of our group. As annoyed as I was with Harold, I felt a little sorry for him.
We had two vegetarians and one vegan. Another guy who was almost a vegan, except he ate eggs. One gluten-free. One nut allergy. One girl would eat chicken, but only if it didn’t look like chicken. And so on. No wonder the poor man couldn’t keep it straight. If it had been me, I would have made everyone order their own damn food, or told them to be happy with what they got. But I suppose that would result in even more headaches than Harold’s system, painful though it was.
“He wasn’t interested,” I said, pointedly ignoring Meghan, who was still giving us the stink eye.
“You have to make him interested, Jackson.”
Kate leaned closer, close enough that I could smell peppermint gum on her breath. My groin tingled as if it suddenly realized something interesting was happening. I wondered what it would be like to kiss her.
What was it about this woman that made me feel like a horny teenager? It must be China—the excitement of discovering a new place also made me want to discover a new…well, you get the picture. Snap out of it, Jackson.
I’d missed the last thing she’d said. As subtly as I could, I dropped my napkin in my lap, just in case she got too close. “I’m sorry; what was that?”
“I said most women are batshit cray. I hate to be a traitor to my own gender, but it’s true.”
We both heard it then—a little snorting sound that was halfway between amusement and disgust.
“What was that, Meghan? Do you have something you wanted to say?”
I nudged Kate with my elbow. Didn’t she know the best thing to do with people like that was to ignore them, pretend they didn’t exist?
Meghan straightened in her chair. Even though she was sitting and Kate was standing, Meghan managed to appear as if she were looking down on her. “Just because that’s the kind of women you hang out with doesn’t mean we’re all like that.”
Uh-oh. You could feel electricity in the air—a live wire that crackled between the two women.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Heat smoldered off Kate like steam. I was beginning to suspect there was a genuine redhead—or at least the temper of one—underneath the enhancement.
“Did you ever stop to consider that maybe the reason you don’t get along with women has something to do with you?”
Storm clouds gathered over our table. Conversation stopped as we held our collective breath, waiting to see what Kate would do next. I prayed for a convenient interruption, an intervention from God—anything. Where was a waiter when you needed one?
“And I suppose you’re the expert.”
Scanning the restaurant for Harold, I wondered where our guide had disappeared to. No doubt he was cuddling up to his iPhone somewhere. Matt rose halfway out of his chair, surveying both women as if deciding which one he’d need to restrain first.
Meghan lifted her nose to the ceiling. “As it so happens, yes. I have many wonderful girlfriends who have been in my life for years. It’s too bad you can’t find anyone who likes you.”
Before Kate could respond, I caught hold of her wrist. The anger in her eyes was enough to make me concerned for my safety. If Meghan had any sense, she’d run now. “Just ignore her,” I said, keeping my voice as low and steady as possible. “She isn’t worth it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Matt had left, most likely to find Harold. But I didn’t think that would be necessary now. Kate’s breathing had slowed. Her face wasn’t nearly as flushed. She nodded at me, and without another word, headed back to her seat.
But I didn’t have long to bask in the glory of my successful intervention.
“How dare you judge me?” Meghan screamed at me, looking like she wanted to rip my face off with her teeth.
“Hey, calm down.” I raised my arms in surrender. “No one’s judging you.”
For the hundredth time I wished Clarke had come with me. I could have used his mediating skills.
“You think I don’t know what you say about me? You think I don’t hear your stupid little jokes, your rude comments? Do you think I’m deaf? Or stupid? I’ve heard everything you’ve said.”
Her voice was loud enough that people across the room were staring at us, no doubt trying to figure out what the loudmouthed foreigners were so upset over.
“I’m sorry if anything I said offended you, Meghan. That certainly wasn’t my—”
“Oh that is such a load of bullshit,” she shrieked. From somewhere in the kitchen, a metal pot hit the floor with an ear-ringing clang. “I know about you and your group of freaks.” Meghan waved her hands to indicate the people at Table Awesome. “You think you’re so much better than everyone else. Well, you’re wrong.”
Ever the peacemaker, Erik spoke up. “That’s not true, Meghan. None of us think we’re better than you.”
Yeah, we know we are. Wild laughter bubbled in my throat. I bit my lip till it bled.
“You’re a dumbass.” Meghan’s shrill voice pierced the hushed silence of the restaurant. I hoped no one understood English.
She scowled at my roommate before turning on me. “And you. You’re a drunk and a screw-up.”
“Have you been talking to my mom again?” My reply was rewarded with some muffled laughter, and I hoped that would be enough to get Meghan’s focus back on me. I could take her insults—I didn’t give a shit what she thought. But I didn’t want her to unleash her cruelty on anyone else.
“And you’re a whore.” Meghan howled the last word as she turned her accusing finger on Kate.
Kate rose from her chair again, and I knew it wasn’t so she could be a peacemaker.
“Okay, that’s quite enough.”
For once I was glad to hear Martin’s voice. The rest of us were too shell-shocked to speak, so we sat in awkward silence. Where in the hell was Harold? People must have been able to hear Meghan bellowing four blocks away. “Meghan, you owe these people an apology. You can’t say stuff like that. We’re a team. We have to travel together for another two weeks.”
As reality sank in, Meghan slumped in her chair. Her breath was coming in little gasps, and for a moment, I almost felt sorry for her.
How must it feel to not only be the outcast, but to know you are? Meghan could be extremely irritating, but I’d never noticed how upset she was, how hurt. That outburst had to have been building for a long time.
“That’s okay. I don’t need an apology,” I said. “She was mostly right about me.”
Martin tipped his head at me in thanks. “All right, Erik and Kate, then. It’s only right to apologize to them.”
Meghan mumbled something under her breath that might have been “I’m sorry.” I could tell the apology wasn’t doing much for Kate, whose beautiful face was twisted in a snarl, as if she still wanted to knock the other woman’s teeth in.
The food arrived, along with Harold. He registered the glum faces around the two tables with surprise. “What happened? Is there a problem?”
“I think I’m going to be sick. Excuse me,” Meghan said, hurrying toward the ladies’ room. I winced in sympathy. Unlike washrooms at home, which women didn’t want to leave, Chinese restrooms weren’t suitable for lingering. You wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.
“Is she okay?” Harold studied our faces for clues, faint lines appearing across his forehead. In the last day or two, I’d noticed a touch of silver in his dark hair. I was sure it hadn’t been there at the beginning of this trip.
“I’ll go check on her.” Praise was the mother of our group even though she was one of the youngest.
“Thank you, Rose,” Harold said, getting her name wrong, as he often did. She didn’t bother to correct him.
The meal was amazing, as it always was when Harold ordered, but few of us were hungry. The ugly confrontation sat heavy in our stomachs. Harold would go insane if he saw so much untouched food, so I snagged another helping of eggplant, and convinced Larry to do the same.
Neither Praise nor Meghan returned from the bathroom until it was time to get on the bus.
As Harold hustled us out of the restaurant, I saw something that made me shudder.
A Chinese girl in a raincoat was sitting at a corner table, watching me.
~ Chapter Seven ~
“Can you keep a secret?”
I’d grabbed the seat beside Kate, but for the first twenty minutes, that seemed like a very bad idea. Instead of being her usual chatty self, she was silent, her arms folded tight across her chest and her temple pressed to the grimy window. I couldn’t blame her for being in a bad mood, but it didn’t make for a comfortable trip. I decided to tell her about the girl in the restaurant, if only to distract her from her own problems.
The great thing about confiding in Kate instead of Matt or Erik was that she wouldn’t judge me for admitting I felt threatened by a woman—even a woman as small and delicate looking as the Chinese girl.
The bad thing about confiding in Kate was that women tended to ask a lot of questions. If I’d told the same story to Matt, his response would have had the depth of “Holy shit” or something similar. But Kate wanted to know why—why was the woman stalking me? Did I know what she wanted? This led to my revealing my revoked promise to tell the woman’s story, which of course led to another question.
It would have been smarter to keep my mouth shut, but I needed to talk to someone. Keeping it all to myself was driving me crazy.
When I asked Kate if she could keep a secret and she nodded with no hesitation, I believed her.
We were quiet for a minute or two, listening to the rumble of tires on the uneven road and the periodic blasts from the driver’s horn as he warned other motorists of our approach. Everyone else appeared to be asleep, although I was willing to bet Harold was tapping away on his phone. I’d seen him texting while he rode a bicycle. There were rumors among us that his wife was giving him grief about being away from home, which could be true, but still—there was such a thing as too much communication.
“I’ll tell you something first if you like. Then we’ll be even.”
I straightened in my seat. Kate had a secret? I strived to seem casual, but I was dying of curiosity. “Okay.”
“I’m not really a photographer,” she whispered.
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing—one of those deep, uncontrolled belly laughs that make your entire body shake. Across the aisle from us, Rose muttered in her sleep.
“Sssh,” Kate scolded me.
“I’m sorry. It’s just—I’d kind of already figured that out.”
Rather than take offense, she grinned. “It’s that obvious? Damn, I need a better cover story.”
On the first day of the tour, we’d visited the Great Wall. As you might expect, cameras were everywhere, but Kate had the nicest. A bunch of us guys gathered around, practically salivating, asking whether or not it was full frame and other questions about the lens she used.
She’d laughed, sidestepping the lot of us without answering a single question. At the time, I’d thought she was in a hurry to get on the Wall. But by dinner that night, she’d come up with the answers. Maybe she had a manual in her bag, I don’t know. But it didn’t really matter, because by then, the jig was up. Any professional photographer could prattle on and on about what lenses she used. The fact that Kate couldn’t even tell us the model of her camera was highly suspect.
“So, what do you do?”
Kate stared out the window, hiding her face. I could have sworn she was blushing, but she didn’t seem like the type. “You have to promise not to laugh. And you can’t tell anyone else.”
“Oh, come on. Everyone has shitty jobs. I work at an insurance company—I’m hardly one to judge.”
“I don’t have a shitty job—I have a weird one.” Her eyes glowed a vivid green in the late afternoon light, reminding me of a cat’s. “It’s wrong to even refer to it as a job, because that implies I have a choice. It’s more of a calling.”
My mind raced through every strange occupation I could think of. “Are you a stripper? A clown at children’s parties? One of those Rent-a-Nerd singing telegram people?”
I hoped she wasn’t a Rent-a-Nerd. If she was, I’d have to throw her out the window. Female or not. Awesome or not. Just for the good of mankind.
“God, no. Not that weird.” She lowered her voice until I could barely hear it over the hum of the engine. “I’m a medium.”
Initially I thought she was joking. But as she held my gaze without cracking a smile, I realized she was serious. “You’re one of those scammers who tell people they’re going to travel over long distances, or that their spouses will disappoint them?”
At least I never claimed to be diplomatic. Not once.
Kate didn’t seem to take offense. “That’s a psychic. I’m not a psychic; I’m a medium.”
“What’s the difference?”
She gave me a look of such intensity I felt pinned to my seat. And not in a good way. “The difference is I communicate with the dead.”
Even though I’d always figured people who believed in ghosts could be separated into two camps—the gullible and the certifiable, I was intrigued. I’d never met someone who claimed to be able to talk to them. I got why she didn’t want everyone on the tour to know. “Like in The Sixth Sense?”
Kate hesitated. “Not really, no. It’s a lot…closer than that.”
Cold fingers traced their way up my spine. If this was having an imagination, I didn’t like it. “What do you mean?”
“You know how in the movie, the little boy gets scared when he sees a dead person? And then they tell him what happened to them or whatever—whatever it is they want from him?”
I nodded. Of course I knew. I’d seen that movie a gazillion times. At least.
“Well, it’s not really like that. When I speak to the dead, I’m not actually talking to them. That’s what mediums say because the truth is difficult for people to comprehend.”
“And what is the truth?”
She took a deep breath.
“It’s like they’re inside you.” Kate narrowed her eyes at me. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Whenever I talk about this with a guy, he always makes the same dumb joke.”
I made a mental note not to be predictable. “They’re inside you. Go on.” When she raised an eyebrow at me, I realized I was genuinely interested in hearing what she had to say. “Seriously, Kate. I’m not laughing at you.”
“You see through their eyes; you know what they know. Whatever they’ve experienced, whatever they’re traumatized about, I don’t need to ask. I experience it with them.”
“Is every ghost traumatized?”
“Almost none of them are. They absorb our trauma. If someone on earth can’t let a loved one go, the departed spirit suffers as well. Because all the dead want is to see their people happy. Without that reassurance, they find it extremely difficult to move on. But there are some who experienced so much trauma right before they died that they keep reliving it in the spirit realm—it’s why a lot of ancient battlefields are haunted. The soldiers experienced trauma on such an epic scale that a part of them remains.”
It was hard to wrap my head around what she was saying, but I could see that she believed it. “So you feel their pain?”
She nodded. “I’ve been shot, stabbed, strangled, set on fire, maimed, blinded, drowned—you name it, it’s happened to me.”
“You get to feel how they died?”
“Yeah, but sometimes they didn’t feel anything. Once I was hired to contact this musician who put a gun to his head. There was a lot of pain before he killed himself—oh God, so much pain—but after? Nothing. Only peace.”
“If there was peace, why was he still here? Why were you able to contact him?”
“His daughter wouldn’t let him go. She needed to talk to him, to ask him why he’d left her, why he’d abandoned her to her crazy mother.”
“And did she get an answer?”
Kate smiled. “I think so. That’s what I do. I help people. I try, anyway.”
This was the most interesting conversation I’d ever had, on a bus or anywhere else. There was so much I wanted to ask. “Do they ever come to you on their own?”
City of Ghosts Page 5
