GHOST CROWN: THE TRACKS TRILOGY - Book Two

by J. Gabriel Gates

  Great place for a party, she thought cynically. Too bad Halloween is over.

  An odd mix of apprehension and anticipation assailed her, but up the steps she went, into the shadow of the porch roof, across the rickety decking. She reached up to knock on the door, but before she could, it swung slowly open. She expected to see Orias standing there to greet her, or another guest, maybe. But there was no one. It was as if the door had opened by itself, like something out of a horror movie.

  She hesitated then, standing there on the threshold. If this were a movie, she would be rolling her eyes, thinking how stupid the heroine was to go into a creepy house right after the door opened on its own. But this was real life, and there was no way she could call her dad and tell him that she refused to go into a house where doors opened by themselves. He would ship her off to Mountain High Academy in a New York minute. Anyway, Orias had probably started making improvements on the place and simply had an automatic door opener installed. At least, that’s what her father would say.

  Tentatively, she stepped into the house and into the entry hall, wondering who else would be there—Cheung Shao, maybe. But then, since her dad wasn’t invited, probably not. Maybe just some kids from Hilltop Haven.

  “Hello?” she ventured, trying to sound cheerful rather than frightened. She walked a little further into the hallway and through an arched doorway on her left, she saw Orias sitting on a beautiful, antique Victorian couch in the living room, in front of a blazing fire. A shiny silver tea service sat next to what looked like a fancy bottle of red wine on the coffee table in front of him. No one else was there.

  He looked up and saw her standing in the doorway. “Hello, Aimee.” His voice was warm, tranquil.

  “Hi,” she said, trying to keep her tone as bright as possible. “Am I the first one here?”

  He gazed at her, his hypnotic eyes probing deeply into her own as he rose to greet her. “The first . . . the last . . . the only one,” he said softly.

  

  It was Saturday afternoon, and Raphael had invited his crew over to hang out. Beet, Josh and Benji all had to work but Emory, always eager to get out of the family garage, had come, and so had Nass—with Clarisse tagging along. Savana had gone to visit Lily Rose, leaving them all to do their homework together, but they quickly gave up on that idea, deciding instead to watch a movie. Raph and Nass were on a mission to watch every martial arts movie in Master Chin’s sizable collection. This week, Raphael had borrowed Ip Man 2: Legend of the Grand Master.

  Now, they all sat around, eating generic brand microwave popcorn and watching the movie. When it was over and the credits were running, Nass made a joke.

  “That’s going to be you one of these days, man. We’re going to be old guys, all going to the movies to see, Flatliner: The Legend of Raphael Kain.

  Everyone laughed and Nass did too, but Raphael noticed that his smile faded fast. There was a weird vibe coming from Clarisse as well. She was being nice—nicer than usual, actually, but to Raph it seemed a little forced. Maybe he was being paranoid, he thought as he stuffed the last of the popcorn into his mouth. He headed to the kitchen for another glass of Kool-Aid.

  “So when are we going out treasure hunting again?” Clarisse called from the living room.

  Raphael dumped the unpopped kernels into the trash as he considered the question. After what had happened to Haylee, he’d been a little concerned about leading his guys into danger again, especially since Zhai hadn’t turned up yet. When Zhai was sane, he was a fairly predictable adversary. Since he’d gone off the deep end and gotten mixed up with this Order of the Black Snake business, there was no telling what he might do. Still, Raph knew, Emory and his family couldn’t live in a garage forever. Ignacio’s family was running out of time, too, and he’d noticed a new rash of eviction notices posted on doors around the neighborhood. If they didn’t find that treasure soon and use it to buy their apartment buildings back, or hire a lawyer to stop the evictions, they’d all be living on the street. They had to get the treasure before Jack Banfield and Cheung Shao found it—that was the only way. But with Zhai and the Order running around, he couldn’t risk his crew getting attacked again. He’d have to figure something else out.

  “Soon,” he said, going back to join them.

  “I hope so.” Emory said. He’d been patient so far, but Raphael knew his current living arrangements were wearing on him.

  Raphael nodded thoughfully. “Well. . . I guess . . . Friday when we get off work,” he said at last. Maybe Zhai would turn up before then.

  Clarisse smiled eagerly. “I’m in.”

  “You’re worried about the Obies, huh?” Nass asked Raph, ignoring her.

  “The who?”

  “Order of the Black Snake,” Nass said with a grin. “Obies.”

  Raph chuckled. Leave it to Nass to give them a name that wasn’t such a honking mouthful.

  “Obies? What’s that?” Emory asked.

  “The dudes in the hats” Nass explained.

  “Guys we don’t want to mess with,” Raphael added. “Until we figure out how to deal with them, it’s too dangerous to go treasure hunting.”

  “What do you think the treasure is?” Clarisse interjected eagerly.

  “I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” Raphael said. “Kate found a valuable coin in the train graveyard when she first came to town. At first I thought it was part of the treasure. And from the things Aimee told me, it sounded like it might even be precious gems—diamonds or something. But I think it’s more than that. Like maybe it’s got something to do with the Wheel and the Magician and everything.”

  Besides Aimee and Master Chin, Nass was the only person Raphael had fully shared his supernatural experiences with. Emory and Clarisse looked mystified.

  “What Wheel?” Emory wanted to know.

  “And who’s the Magician?” Clarisse asked.

  “Long story,” Raphael said. He still hadn’t figured out exactly how to explain all that magic stuff to the Flatliners. They all understood that Nass’s saving Haylee’s life came from the knowing, which came from Shen, and they had all experienced some weird stuff on Halloween night. But despite all that, he knew most of them were still struggling to accept the whole idea of magic.

  “What he means is that the treasure isn’t just a bunch of gold or something,” Nass explained. “It’s something more special than that. Something rare and unique.”

  “Like . . . maybe a priceless ancient artifact?” Emory suggested.

  Raphael nodded. “Maybe.”

  “When you go out again I want to go too,” Clarisse said. Nass gave her a look, and she added, “What? I want to see the treasure!”

  “Okay, guys,” Raph said. “As much fun as this has been, I’ve got to get ready for work. My mom’s gonna be home soon, anyway.”

  After they left, Raph tried to call Aimee. It went straight to voicemail. He went through his kung fu form and daily meditation and tried calling her again. Voicemail.

  With his friends and his mom gone and Aimee not answering his calls, the apartment felt lonely, he thought as he changed for work. And in the silence, all the other crazy, frightening things he’d experienced lately came creeping back in. Bloody images swam through his imagination—the strange samurai . . . the creepy sail-board guys he’d killed. He saw Oberon’s one glowing red eye staring at him from the depths of every shadow. By the time he locked up and started out on his evening walk to Rack ’Em, he was feeling so anxious he jogged all the way there.

  

  “Why would you have a party and invite only one guest?” Aimee asked. But she knew why and her heart did a funny little riff.

  Orias walked slowly to her, holding her gaze in his. “I don’t recall mentioning a party,” he said.

  “Your invitation—”

  “Was to you, for high tea.” He was
standing in front of her now, close, and looking down at her, his expression unreadable.

  “You couldn’t just call?”

  A smile teased at his lips, and it annoyed her that he found her so amusing. “My romantic nature,” he told her. “I’m old fashioned that way.”

  She knew she should be furious with him for tricking her—she wanted to be. Only he hadn’t—and she was actually flattered, of all things. And that made her angry with herself. She studied him for a moment.

  “Does my dad know I’m your only guest?” she asked.

  “I believe I was quite clear about it.”

  Oh, yeah, she thought. Daddy dearest.

  Her first instinct was to get the hell out of there, until it hit her that her father had no problem with her being alone in a house with a really hot guy, as long as it was a guy he chose and it suited his purpose. She wondered if he had ever put her mom in this position.

  Well, okay—fine, she projected in her mind, with contempt. Be careful what you wish for, Jack.

  Anyway, if she left too soon he would make her pay and she’d never see Raphael again.

  “Will you come in, then?” Orias urged softly. “And let me take your coat?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  Her voice was harder than she meant it to be. She turned and when she shrugged out of her coat, his hands brushed her shoulders as he caught it. He let them linger there a moment before he went and hung it on an ornate rack near the door. She didn’t resist when he took her elbow and ushered her through the arched doorway into his large, elegantly furnished living room.

  The house might look rundown on the outside, but the interior was magnificent. Everything was very old—centuries old, it appeared—the furniture, the drapes, the big chandelier that sparkled with what looked like hundreds of flickering candles, thick Persian rugs that covered gleaming oak floors. Her mom loved antiques and Aimee knew a little about them. These were the real deal, and everything was in perfect, pristine condition. She felt almost like she’d stepped back in time.

  “Why?” she finally said it out loud as he steered her to the sofa. “Why invite only me?”

  “I want to get to know you.”

  “Okay, look,” she told him. “This is important to my dad, so I’ll play along. We can have some tea and polite conversation and then—”

  “This has nothing to do with your father, Aimee,” he said smoothly as he sat down next to her. “Oh, I’ll do business with him, certainly. But this is about you.”

  “But why?”

  His smile grew wider—and she saw it again, as she’d seen it when she’d looked through the window of Morningstar Inc. It was like he knew some kind of wonderful secret, and he hadn’t decided whether to tell her or not. Finally, he spoke.

  “Because I am interested in you . . . that way.”

  “Oh.”

  That really did surprise her, but strangely, she didn’t object to the idea—and she hated that she didn’t object. She closed her eyes for a moment and imagined Raphael’s face, and all the love she saw in his eyes when he looked at her. When she opened them again, Orias was watching her calmly, waiting for her to go on.

  “Well, then you should know I have a—” She stopped herself, just in time. If Orias reported back to her father that she claimed to have a boyfriend, Jack would know who she meant—and that would be bad for Raphael.

  He picked up a saucer with one delicate teacup balanced on it and reached for the teapot. “This is a blend from my plantation in India,” he said. “It has an exquisite bouquet. I suggest no cream and just a touch of honey.”

  “Fine.”

  He poured the tea and passed it to her, with a lace-trimmed linen napkin. She couldn’t believe how light, how fragile the dishes were. They were made of some kind of eggshell porcelain so light it felt like they might dissolve in her hand.

  “What’s transpiring here, Aimee, has nothing to do with the Kain boy,” Orias said.

  She wondered how he knew about Raphael, and she remembered Myka was working for him now—but would she have told him? She decided to change the subject. “So what’s New York like?”

  His expression was instantly more alive, more animated. “New York is amazing,” he said. “Whatever you need or want is at your fingertips, whether it’s three in the morning or three in the afternoon. I’d love to show it to you.”

  Well, that’s not going to happen. The words formed in Aimee’s head, but for some reason, she didn’t say them.

  On a silver tray next to the tea service, there was a cold fruit compote swimming in rich, red syrup, a plate of the prettiest petit fours she had ever seen and another heaped high with finger sandwiches cut in the shapes of stars and crescent moons. He picked up a plate and the silver serving tongs and asked, “Cucumber or watercress?”

  She hadn’t intended to eat anything. She wasn’t even hungry—or at least, she hadn’t been. Suddenly she was famished. “Both,” she said.

  He laughed. “A girl with a healthy appetite. You’ve stolen my heart already.” He loaded her plate with sandwiches and pastries and placed it on the coffee table in front of her, along with a small dish of fruit. She had never tasted anything so incredible. Not even Lily Rose’s cooking could compete. And he was right about the tea. It was delicious. She thought it was even making her a bit lightheaded—or maybe it was a sugar rush from the little cakes. He drained the dull metal chalice he was holding and poured himself more wine, from the fancy bottle.

  “What’s that?” she asked, not really meaning for it to sound sarcastic. “Wine from the family vineyards?”

  “It is,” he said simply.

  “You’re really that wealthy?” she asked.

  “You can’t begin to imagine.”

  “What I can’t imagine, Orias, is why you’re still here.” It was the first time she’d called him by name, and she was stunned at how natural, how right, it felt. “I mean, I know why you came—but why are you staying?”

  “I told you during that assembly on Career Day,” he said, watching her carefully. “I fell in love.”

  “And I told you. There’s someone else.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “You did. But that’s no reason we can’t be friends.”

  “I’m sure you could have a million friends if you wanted. My brother thinks you’re awesome. I think he’d jump off a bridge if you asked him to.”

  “Do you want me to ask him to jump off a bridge?”

  “Maybe,” she said, and laughed. “I’ll let you know.”

  “In any case, we’re going to be more than friends, you and I. Much more.”

  “I don’t think so.” Why did she say that when she meant, no way? What was wrong with her?

  “You know what?” she said. “This was a really bad idea. I don’t want to do this anymore.” She put down her cup and got to her feet.

  He stood in front of her, blocking her exit. “How do you know, Aimee?” he asked languidly. “How do you know you don’t want something before you even try it?”

  As she looked up into his eyes all she could think about was how his lips would taste, flavored sweetly with the wine from his vineyard. She tried to think about Raphael, to form an image of his face in her mind, but she was having trouble remembering what he looked like. The place in her mind where the memory should have been was scrambled, like a static-filled TV screen.

  Abruptly, she turned away from Orias and went to the other side of the room, to look out the window and onto the street below. To put some space between them, because his presence was overwhelming her, driving every other thought away. She wondered how he could have such an effect on her.

  “Please stay, just a little longer,” he said.

  She looked at her watch. Only half an hour had passed. If she left now her dad would never let her hear the end of it. “Okay,” she agreed
. “But no more of this polite conversation bull crap. I’ll stay—if you answer some questions for me. About your father.”

  “Whatever you want to know.” He went to stand beside her again.

  “For one thing, what kind of person—” she began, and then started over. “He didn’t just abduct me, you know.”

  A flash of pain shot through Orias’s eyes, so sharp it surprised her. “What did he do to you?” he asked grimly.

  “For starters, he took me to this really weird place—somewhere inside a big, ginormous tunnel—or at least you have to go through a tunnel to get there. Then he shot a boy right in front of me. Killed him and made me dance in his blood. What kind of person does that?”

  “Someone who is insane, clearly.”

  “Insane?” she repeated, incredulous. “How does that explain the rest, Orias? How was he able to sprout wings—big, black feathery wings—and fly right up into the sky like some kind of demented angel?”

  The contempt Orias felt for his father was obvious. There was no mistaking it. “I can’t believe he let you see that,” he said.

  “Well, he did,” she told him. “So what was he? And what does that make you?”

  Disgust showed in his face at her final question—a loathing so strong it was undeniable—and she wondered if he might actually hate Oberon as much as she did. He walked back to the table, poured more wine into his chalice, and drank it down quickly.

  “You wouldn’t believe me,” he said at last. “And you could never understand.” There was anguish etched in his face and she felt sorry for him. But she wasn’t about to let it go.

  “Try me,” she said. “After what I’ve seen and struggled to understand in the last few months, you’d be surprised at what I’d believe. So tell me, like you promised, or I’m out of here.”