A Ghostly Charm

by MJ Fredrick

  The door sprung open.

  Mal’s eyes went wide when he looked at her. “What. The. Hell.”

  She took a deep breath, and tried not to cough at the dust that filled her lungs. “Let’s go find out.”

  She lifted her flashlight, then took his hand.

  “Scared?” he taunted.

  “That you’re going to run off,” she retorted. “Come on.”

  Before they eased through the door, Mal found a loose board and propped the door open. She arched an eyebrow.

  “We don’t want to get trapped,” he explained. “You see it in horror movies all the time.”

  “Good thinking.”

  The tunnel led them deeper into the house, deeper into the island. Where did they lead?

  They moved slowly, flashing their lights around as well as in front of them, not wanting to miss anything.

  “I’ve been here before,” Maddy murmured.

  “When? How?”

  “We’re under the McDavid house.”

  “That’s a block and a half away,” he protested.

  “It’s where we are. And look.” She shone her flashlight to a mirror, broken, the cracks creating the symbol.

  Mal scrubbed the edge of his hand between his eyebrows, the movement sending the beam of his flashlight bouncing against the ceiling. “So it’s everywhere. We get that. It calls the spirits, though clearly it hadn’t done until you came with your charm that belonged to Elizabeth. So how do we stop it?”

  Maddy stepped forward and touched her charm to the center of the broken mirror. The shards shifted and brightened, and the charm heated under her touch. She wanted to jump back, to hide, but she had to see what was happening.

  The shards joined together to become whole, but Maddy’s reflection wasn’t what looked back at her. No, another woman, small and blonde in a plain gray dress met her gaze. Now Maddy leapt back. Mal caught her shoulders.

  “Do you see?” she whispered, breathless with fear, and then asked, “Elizabeth?”

  The woman cocked her head, then pointed toward the window at the top of the basement wall. Almost afraid to look away from her, Maddy turned.

  And saw the lighthouse flashing its signal across the island.

  “We have to go there?” Maddy asked the reflection, but when she turned back, the woman was gone. And the door beside the mirror was open.

  They exchanged a glance, Maddy’s heart pounding so loud she was sure Mal heard it. This time Mal led the way through.

  “I smell the ocean.” She bumped into his shoulder as she eased closer, every nerve on alert. What was this leading them to? “Mal. I have a theory.”

  “What?” He sounded distracted.

  “You said, the first day, that the lighthouse was the most haunted place on the island.”

  “Yeah. I did. But hell, Maddy, none of that was true.”

  She fell silent. He slowed and looked over his shoulder at her.

  “Sorry. What was your theory?”

  “There’s a symbol in the inn, where the bride was, and a symbol in the McDavid house, where you and Justin heard the shots. Now the lighthouse. Could these be, like Kayla said, where the veil is thinnest?”

  He stopped and turned. “That’s a good theory.” He pulled the walkie off her waistband. The device beeped when he pressed the button. “Justin, you awake? Find out what you can about the lighthouse.” He waited for an answer, but none came, so he tucked the radio into his front pocket.

  The tunnel had one more door, this one without a symbol. Beyond, Mal could hear the pounding of the surf. He glanced at Maddy, who shrugged, so he turned the handle. He had to put his shoulder into the door to get it open, then they walked out onto the rocky promontory just under the lighthouse. A storm was blowing in, the clouds billowing overhead, tumultuous, ominous.

  “I wonder if we should be better prepared for this,” Maddy murmured, tucking herself against his side.

  A flicker overhead drew their attention. Maddy stepped back to look at the tower of the lighthouse, and at the shadow of a man on the other side of the glass. At the same time, the walkie on Mal’s hip squawked. Maddy jolted so hard she stumbled on the rock and would have gone down on her ass if Mal hadn’t caught her. He steadied her on her feet and unhooked the walkie.

  “Jesus. What, man?”

  “That’s where the prison was.”

  “What?”

  “The lighthouse. That’s where the prison was.”

  “The prison where the people died of yellow fever?” Maddy asked, leaning to speak into the walkie. Her breath brushed over his fingertips.

  “So it really is the most haunted place on the island,” Mal said.

  Maddy clutched his sleeve and looked up at the light. The man there had disappeared.

  “You want to do this?”

  They approached the lighthouse, climbing uphill, and suddenly Maddy squealed, the sound quickly cut off, and her hand tugged free from his. Mal pivoted to see her dangling above the rocky ground, held there by—he had no idea. He lunged for her, misstepped on the slick surface and went down hard on one knee. Maddy’s eyes were huge with terror and he scrambled toward her, only to be kicked by an invisible foot to the jaw. He sprawled on his back, the rocks digging into his ribs, the breath knocked out of him, and he watched Maddy floating away, back behind the door from which they’d just come.

  Elbows battered and bleeding, he shoved to his feet and bolted after her, grasping the door handle and tugging.

  Locked.

  “Maddy!” he screamed, as the thunder boomed overhead. “Maddy!”

  Chapter Seven

  Maddy dropped to the dusty ground inside the tunnel, her eyes straining against the dark. What had carried her back in here, and was it still here? God, was she alone with a ghost? She’d dropped her flashlight and her poker. She darted her hand out in all directions, looking for them, but she must have dropped them outside.

  Where Mal was.

  She climbed to her feet and felt for the door, then lunged against it. It wouldn’t budge. Why not now? It had opened easily enough before.

  Her charm. She scrambled in her pocket only to come up empty. She must have dropped it as well. Was it with Mal or in here with her? She hadn’t felt it when she’d been scrambling about on the floor.

  “Mal! Mal! Look for the charm! I’ve lost the charm!” She beat on the door to draw his attention but had no idea if he could hear her through the thick wood and over the pounding surf.

  A sound behind her had her whirling. A man—a ghost—in tattered colonial clothing gleamed as he approached, hands outstretched, a smile in his decaying flesh revealing rotted teeth. Maddy pressed against the door, willing it to open, watching his approach, unable to even blink. Would he hurt her? Could he hurt her? She drew in a deep breath and screamed.

  ****

  The sound of Maddy’s terror cut through the sound of the waves. Mal threw himself against the door—no handle on this one, either—and jammed his fingers between the jamb and the door, trying to get a grip, trying to pull it open, but it was shut tight. There had to be another way in. She’d said they’d been under the McDavid house earlier, but hell, that was blocks away. As much as he hated leaving her on her own, it was the only way he could think of getting to her, going through that house and finding the entrance to the tunnel.

  He lifted the walkie to tell Justin to meet him there when the sun peeked through the storm clouds and glinted off something shiny. He crouched.

  Holy hell. Her charm. Fisting the tiny piece of metal in his palm, he ran back toward town.

  Justin was waiting on the porch when Mal ran up.

  “Under here.” Mal led the way under the porch, where Maddy had entered the passageway the last time.

  “Dude, I really don’t think I can fit.”

  Frustrated, Mal shoved both hands through his hair. “I need your help, man. I need to get to her.”

  “Maybe there’s another way in.”

  Ma
l shook his head in frustration. “No time. All right. Look. Keep in touch.” Mal waved his walkie over his head and slipped through the grating under the porch.

  Jesus, he had a lousy sense of direction above ground. Under ground, even worse. He had to move in the direction of the lighthouse, right? Which was...that way.

  “Maddy!” His voice echoed off the brick walls as he ran down the tunnel in what he prayed was the right direction. He’d heard an unearthly sound, but couldn’t tell where it had come from.

  Or what it meant. Was Maddy safe? Would he get to her in time?

  “Mal!” Her voice came from the opposite direction, high with panic. “Mal, help me! I need you.”

  Jesus. Terror seizing him, he pivoted toward the sound. He hadn’t seen another passageway, so he must have turned the wrong direction. Or else she had managed to get back here. He hurried down the passageway, flashlight in one hand, poker in the other.

  “Maddy! I’m on my way! Where are you?”

  “Here! Down here!”

  Sure enough, her voice seemed to come from below. Where were the stairs? He ran past the place he’d entered. Shit. How did she get up here so fast?

  There. Stairs. Recklessly, he headed down them, but damn, they were rickety. And no rail to hold onto. Had Maddy fallen? Or was she unable to get up them? He called her name again, heard the anxiety tightening her voice, and he stepped into emptiness.

  He landed on his back on hard-packed ground. The drop had been enough to knock the breath out of him, but he took a quick inventory and didn’t think anything was broken. He opened his eyes to darkness, except for that from his flashlight.

  Suddenly the room started to glow and shimmer. He forced himself up on his elbows, scrambling about on the floor for his poker, when a face appeared not two feet from his.

  “Mal,” it crooned in Maddy’s voice, mocking him. “Help me!”

  “Bridget, you bitch! Where is she?” Then, remembering the charm he’d tucked in his pocket, he pulled it out and thrust it at her. She merely smiled and shook her head, then tried to swipe it out of his hand. He closed his fist over it, and felt the chill as her hand slid through, ugh, his.

  He rolled to a sitting position, scanning the room in the light Bridget produced. Shit. It was a root cellar or something, no doors or windows. He looked behind him to see the stairs had collapsed about six feet above his head. He was going to have to climb out of here. Because he was frustrated and angry, he grasped the poker and swung in Bridget’s direction. She disappeared. Great. Now he couldn’t see a goddamned thing.

  ****

  Maddy couldn’t tell if the footsteps behind her were the sound of pursuit or echoes of her own. Her heart threatened to outpace her as she made her escape, but she’d already collided with one wall, and a beam had struck her in the temple. She was still reeling from the contact.

  A shout drew her attention. Mal? But the sound came from in front of her, not behind, where the door was. Where the ghost was.

  She kept moving forward, and heard another shout, this time clearly hearing her name. But before she could open her mouth to reply, the sound of a crash echoed through the tunnel.

  “Mal!” She hurried forward, toward the sound.

  “Maddy!”

  Yes, Mal’s voice. She continued toward it, relief rushing through her.

  “Is it really you?” he called.

  She frowned. “Who else would it be?”

  “You’d be surprised. Tell me something only you would know.”

  Oh, for—“Ghosts are a pain in the ass.”

  Silence. “Good enough. Look, you’re going to come to some stairs. Don’t come down them, whatever you do.”

  “I don’t have a flashlight.”

  He swore. “I broke mine when I fell.” He paused. “You have to get out and get one. And maybe a rope.”

  “I can’t leave. I won’t be able to find you again.”

  Another pause, then rattling, like a can of spray paint. And a flicker of light that disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

  “I see it!” She hurried toward it, her hand along the wall, her anxious breaths nearly drowning out the rattling, and another flash of light. “I’m at the stairs!” she called a few moments later.

  “Yeah, I’m right here. I can hear you.”

  She jumped as his voice came from directly below her. “Now what?”

  “I need you to help me get out of here. I have—” Flicker. “What looks like the supports for stairs.”

  Shit. Splinter.

  “Hey, move back. I’m going to toss the flashlight up to you. I can’t climb with it, and we’re going to need something to get out of here, such as it is.”

  She moved back behind the wall, feeling her way. “Okay, I’m out of the way.”

  The flashlight hit the wall and bounced to the floor, rolling to her feet, beam glaring.

  “I guess that fixed it,” she muttered, and pointed it down at Mal, who shaded his eyes.

  Oh, he was in deep doo-doo. His hands could reach the last step, with his arms outstretched, but getting the leverage to pull himself up... She didn’t see how he would do that without some serious damage. Yes, the stair supports were there, but narrow and not in much better shape than the wood of the steps.

  “How’s your balance?” she asked.

  “Sucks.” He bent over the outside stair support and swung a leg over so he straddled the narrow board, holding the bulk of his weight on his hands. Then, blowing out a breath, he pulled his feet up behind him, kneeling, wobbling, then—

  “Jesus!” She set the flashlight on the ground beside her and lunged forward down the rickety stairs and grasped his hand to hold his balance. He flashed her a nervous grin, and with a death grip on her hand, his other hand on the wall on the opposite side of the stairs, he edged up the narrow, creaking—no, cracking—board.

  “You need to get back,” he said through his teeth, his focus on his feet. “This isn’t going to hold.”

  “I’m not letting go.”

  “It won’t do us a damn bit of good to both be on the floor.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” When he got close enough, she gripped his t-shirt with her other hand and dragged him forward onto the stairs as she backed up. The sound of splintering wood gave her strength, and she yanked him onto the solid floor, stumbling and dragging him on top of her, just as the stairs gave way.

  His heart thudded against her, his breathing rasped in her ear, and then he lifted his weight off her, brushing the backs of his fingers across her cheek.

  “You’re a hell of a woman, Maddy Saunders.” And he kissed her.

  She bowed beneath him, relief and longing battling as she clung to him, fingers twisting in his shirt as she opened her mouth to taste him, to breathe him in. He broke the kiss when she would have taken it deeper and smoothed her hair back from her face. Then he drew back and pressed something hard and metal into her hand.

  Her charm.

  “We’ll finish this when we finish with the lighthouse.”

  ****

  The four of them—Maddy and Mal, Justin and Cindi—stood outside the lighthouse as the sun started to set behind them. Justin and Cindi had researched the ritual to close the veil. They’d scanned and printed it out, the folded pages were in Mal’s pocket, and they’d be back-up as Mal and Maddy performed the ritual.

  Of course, they had to hope that the entrance to the secret room wasn’t blocked here as it had been in the tunnel.

  “Look, let’s just go and get this over with,” Mal said. “It’s not going to get any easier standing out here thinking about it.” He glanced over at Maddy who, damn it, looked exhausted, her posture slumped, her eyes shadowed. Hell, they all were, but couldn’t take a break, not now. He folded his hand around hers, and they led the way toward the locked door. Mal didn’t hesitate, but pulled out a tool to jimmy the lock, aware of Maddy’s disapproving stare. “How do you think we get some of this stuff set up ahead of time? We don
’t exactly have keys.”

  This lock was rustier than most, though, and took some finesse before the lock clanked. He pressed the latch handle with effort, and the door creaked open. He grinned at Justin. “We couldn’t have made it sound better ourselves.”

  “Now is not the time for inspiration,” Maddy said, exasperated, pushing past him into the gloomy interior.

  He followed quickly, not wanting to be separated from her by a slamming door again. The place smelled like one of those bath houses at the beach, the kind you went in to wash off the sand and salt before you headed home. It was a peaceful smell, hard to relate to their mission here.

  They hadn’t seen any spirits on their way up, which only made him more itchy. Where were they, and what were they planning? They’d already tried to stop Maddy and him in the tunnel. What would they try here, at the heart of everything?

  The four of them spread out on the bottom floor of the building, but he kept Maddy in reach, aware that his watchfulness irritated her. Still, he’d never been so scared as when she’d been snatched away from him on the promontory. He couldn’t let it happen again.

  Mal had always thought lighthouses were round, but this one had a regular rectangular house attached, and the lighthouse itself rose above them. So there were as many nooks and crannies here as in a house. They knew the room they were looking for was underground, so they needed to find a way downstairs, and then, who knew?

  “Here. The basement,” Justin called from the other end of the house.

  Mal and Maddy exchanged a look. Could it be this easy? They hurried down to meet Justin and Cindi. This time, Mal led the way down the dark metal steps that spiraled downward with Maddy on his heels. And then she wasn’t.

  Instead, she’d tumbled sideways, staggering as if pushed by an unseen force. Her scream sounded strangled as she grasped for the rail and missed.

  Mal dropped the flashlight and lunged. Her nails dug gouges in his wrists as she grasped him, her fingers twisting in his as she struggled for purchase, her legs flailing in empty space beneath her. Mal had no idea how far the drop was.

  “Get a light over here!” he yelled to Justin, who shook the stairs as he rushed down and crouched beside Mal. “Maddy, hold still or I’m going to drop you.”