Ghost Walk

by Cassandra Gannon

  Unfortunately, the ghost version of her future (or possibly past) husband wasn’t sold on the idea. “It’s too dangerous, Grace.”

  “It’s not! We know where the murderer will be tonight. We have the jump on him. And you’ll be beside me whole time. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

  Jamie rubbed his forehead. “Even if everything goes according to your plan… you’d be stuck in 1789.”

  “So?”

  His brows compressed. “So your family is here and I know how much you love them.”

  “My family is where you are, Jamie.” Grace did love her nutty relatives, but any Rivera would do the same thing for the man they loved. Her cousin Chastity had moved a mountain for her Partner. Literally. And it had been a big Western-y one. “Now will the other you agree to leave Harrisonburg with me or not?”

  Jamie studied her for a long moment. “I’ll go anywhere you ask.” He said quietly. “Every single version of me belongs to you, Grace. You know that.”

  Yeah, she kinda did.

  “Alright then.” She gave a firm nod and headed down the stairs. “That’s our new plan. Hopefully the memory potion will kick in and I won’t have to explain it all to you again, because it’s a little confusing. I’ll probably have to make flow charts or something.”

  “Take your blouse off and I’ll believe anything you say.”

  She flashed him a grin. “You know former Sunday school teachers very rarely allow pirates to have their wicked way with them. You’re lucky I’ve discovered I’m kind of a pizza-tramp where you’re concerned.”

  “Believe me, I thank my lucky stars each and every day I found you.”

  Grace reached the bottom of the steps and pushed open the door the storage room. No one had locked it. Why would they? Everything valuable was upstairs on display. This was where the museum kept the broken, objectionable, and/or oddball bits of the collection. All the stuff that had been donated because its owner died and nobody else in else in the family wanted it. The junk that wouldn’t even sell on eBay. The cluttered room wasn’t exactly the warehouse at end of Raiders of the Lost Ark, but it was still a hell of a lot of boxes to sort through.

  Grace puffed out an irritated breath. This was going to take a while. “I think the Revolutionary era stuff is over by the window.” She squeezed through the rows of crates and dusty shelves. The buzzing florescent lights overhead were already giving her a headache. “It’s all separated into categories. Look for a box with an X on it. That’s the museum’s code for ‘this item is never, ever going on display.’”

  “Why are they holding onto it, then?”

  “Because it’s a museum. You think people are going to will them stuff if it gets out they’re tossing away antiques?” She shook her head. “It’s easier to just store it all.”

  “Seems a waste.” Jamie paused to frown at a hobby horse that was missing its back half. “They could at least fix some of these objects and put them to use.”

  That sounded exactly like something she might say. Grace sent him a smile. “They don’t have enough money for a lot of repairs. Especially not since Robert authorized a twenty percent raise for himself.” What had she ever seen in that jackass? “No one cares about this stuff. It’s an appalling attitude for a museum to have, if you ask me.”

  “Not everybody has your passion for giving old things a second life, lass.” He winked at her. “Speaking as one of the old things you’re trying to save, we thank you for it.”

  “You’re welcome.” She began prying the lids off all the containers that looked promisingly forbidding. “Now focus on our mission and not flirting with me. Anything left from the murders would have ended up down here, hidden away from tourists’ eyes.”

  “Like Clara’s shawl.” Jamie guessed. “On the tour, you said it was left behind at when she was taken.”

  “You remember that part? I thought you hated my tours.”

  “I remember everything you’ve ever said, slanderous or not.”

  Grace shot him another smile. “I’m really glad you’re back, Jamie.”

  “I never left.” His misty lips grazed her temple. “I never could.”

  “Anyway,” she continued, feeling incredibly happy despite their morbid quest, “yeah. The shawl has gotta have her blood on it. All we have to do is find the darned thing.”

  Which was easier said than done. Three hours later, all Grace had accomplished was tiring herself out and making a huge mess. Stacks of books, moth-eaten clothing, tarnished flatware, and old horseshoes were scattered up and down the aisles as she emptied box after box.

  “Crap.” She sat back from a container full of tin soldiers and headless dolls, once again finding nothing useful. “This is crazy! Where could they have put the evidence from Clara’s death?”

  “Perhaps it’s all gone. It’s been two hundred years, Grace. It could have been destroyed in a thousand different ways.” Jamie crouched down to examine a sword with half a blade. “God knows, everything else down here is falling apart.”

  Grace ran a palm through her hair, unmindful of the dirt covering her hands. She was hot and sweaty, her body ached in a million places, and she was coated in a thick layer of cobwebs and dust.

  …But she wasn’t giving up.

  “No. It has to be here somewhere.” Her eyes went to the broken saber that had captured his attention. It looked like something Errol Flynn would have swashbuckled with. A new idea popped into the head. “Hang on, they think you’re the killer, Jamie.”

  He snorted. “No shit.”

  “Don’t you get it? They think a pirate murdered those girls. They wouldn’t have stored the evidence in the ‘Local Revolutionary History’ section of the basement. They’d have put it with all the other boxes full of ‘Piracy’ stuff.” She bounded to her feet, getting her second wind. “That’s all stacked over here.” She started for a completely different row of shelves. “We just need to…”

  Her words ended in a startled gasp as Robert stepped around the corner.

  Her ex-boyfriend looked like hell. His normally neatly pressed suit was a rumpled mess, his hair uncombed and greasy. He clearly hadn’t showered since he’d been released from jail. From his red-rimmed eyes and unshaven face, she was guessing he’d been too busy drinking.

  And getting fired.

  There was a cardboard carton in his hands, which seemed to contain the personal contents of his office. Apparently, the museum board hadn’t been happy with their director being arrested. What would the donors say?

  Jamie bit off a vicious oath in Gaelic. “Grace,” his voice was tense, “slowly move away from him, love. Very slowly. Donea set him off.”

  Yeah, that seemed like a really good idea. Robert was hanging by a thread.

  Grace edged backwards, casting a quick glance over her shoulder to gauge the distance to the door. Too far. God, it seemed waaaay too far.

  “You’ve ruined my life.” Robert told her in an eerily calm voice. “Do you know that? You’ve cost me everything. I don’t even have a job anymore, because of you.”

  “Um… That’s a shame. I lost my job, too.” Somehow she didn’t think that was going to mitigate his anger, but maybe they could bond over their unemployment checks.

  “Your job was nothing!” He snapped. “But I was somebody in this town and you took that away!”

  “You broke into my house, Robert.” Grace retorted, unable to stop herself. “It wasn’t my fault you refused to accept it was over between us.”

  Robert let out a sound of pure rage and heaved the box full of desk supplies at her. “It was your fault!” He roared as she dodged to the side to avoid getting hit with a stapler. “All of it was because of you!”

  “Donea fucking argue with him!” Jamie stepped in front of Grace, like he simply couldn’t stop himself. “Stay calm. Three steps back is that sword.”

  A sword? Was he kidding? Grace wasn’t a frigging pirate. What the hell was she going to do with a sword?

  Her dumbfounded ex
pression must not have registered with him, because Jamie kept talking. “It’s broken, but the blade is still sharp. Donea look at it. Just listen to me and I’ll guide you to it.”

  She nodded, because she didn’t have a better plan. No way was it going to work, though. Jamie would probably call it pessimism, but it seemed pretty clear to Grace that she was going to be raped and murdered surrounded by spiders and broken dishes and wearing her stupid tour guide dress. Oh God.

  Peaceful green cornfields. Peaceful green cornfield. Peaceful…

  Jamie.

  The image of him suddenly filled her mind, offering a deeper feeling of security than even the endless rows of corn on her parents’ farm. Jamie. She let out a long breath and her eyes flicked up to his stunning profile. He was her safe place.

  “I love you.” She whispered, because she might not have another chance to say it.

  “You don’t love me.” Robert wailed, thinking she was talking to him. “If you loved me, you would have forgiven me for that pizza-tramp! You wouldn’t have had me thrown in prison and gotten me fired! You wouldn’t have ruined my life!”

  Jamie ignored his caterwauling. “You’re not saying goodbye to me, Grace. I won’t lose you. I can’t.” Patriot blue eyes burned into hers. “Keep moving towards the sword. Two steps. You’re going to be fine.”

  She gave her head a frantic nod, wanting to believe him. “Just don’t leave me alone.”

  “Never.” It was a solemn promise. “Never again. I was stupid to even try it, Grace. I could never leave you. No matter what, I will be right by your side.”

  “You left me, not the other way around.” Robert was still sure was talking to him. “You never considered my feelings, at all. Never thought about what I wanted and now you show up here to --What?-- try and make things right? Well, it’s too late!”

  “One more step, Grace.” Jamie watched Robert with dark and unfathomable hatred. “Feel for the hilt with your hand.”

  “I’m not here to see you, Robert.” She told him, careful not to look at the weapon as her fingers tried to find it. God only knew what she’d do with it once she held it. Everything she knew about sword fighting she’d learned from watching Game of Thrones reruns and she’d had to cancel HBO last year, when her paycheck shrank. “I just want you to leave me alone.”

  “Then why did you come to the museum?” He demanded, stalking forward to make up the distance she’d created. “Security told me they saw you come down here on the monitors and thought you were looking for me.” He glanced around, noticing the dozens of unpacked boxes on the floor. “Wait, are you stealing from the museum? From me?!”

  “Of course not! I’m…”

  He cut her off, a triumphant smile on his bloated face. “You are! You pretend to be so sweet and good, but you’re a dirty bitch underneath it all, aren’t you?” He reached for her with sick determination. “You’re nothing by a thieving whore and that’s exactly what I’m going to treat you like.”

  Jamie’s beautiful hand slammed out, trying to shove Robert back from her. If he’d been solid, the smaller man would have been careening into the shelves behind him. Grace’s eyes narrowed in sudden consideration. No one noticed. Jamie’s ghostly palm passed through Robert’s chest and her ex continued his advance. Jamie’s cursing could have blistered paint.

  But now Grace knew what to do.

  Her fingers finally sealed around the broken saber’s hilt. She swung it in a wide arc, catching Robert off guard.

  He leapt back in surprise, narrowly escaping a long slice across his stomach. “Holy shit!”

  Grace arched a brow, holding him a bay. Maybe she had a bit of pirate in her after all, because this was coming pretty naturally to her. “Robert, you’re an asshole.” She said succinctly.

  Jamie gave a chortle of delight that the tables had turned. And also at her cursing. The man really was a scoundrel.

  “You think I’m afraid of you, you rotten little slut?” Robert hissed. “I’m going to hold you down and make you beg for me.”

  “There’s only one man alive who can do that and he’s dead right now.” Grace told him seriously. “Now, nothing is going to stop me from saving him. Certainly not someone as boring and normal as you.” She jabbed the jagged sword point at him and Robert went failing back in panic.

  …Right into the shelves behind him.

  He floundered against the boxes, trying to keep his balance. It was no use. The shelves tipped like a row of dominos, taking Robert with them. He fell backwards with a frantic scream, buried under cartons of broken pottery and embroidered tablecloths.

  “Go!” Jamie bellowed.

  Grace went. Rather than run out the door, though, she headed down the aisle of piracy artifacts. Robert would dig himself out in a moment or two. She didn’t have much time. She desperately ripped boxes open, trying to find the shawl. Scrimshaw whales’ teeth and model ships tumbled to the floor as she haphazardly dumped the cartons onto the cold cement.

  “You have to get out of here!” Jamie tried to grab her arm and drag her to the exit, but his fingers passed right through her skin. “Fuck!”

  “I can’t go yet.” She got out breathlessly. “Not yet.” If she left now, she’d get no second chance. This was her one and only opportunity to save him. “I have to find it.” His name was a frantic chant in her mind as she tried to calm down.

  Jamiejamiejamiejamiejamiejamiejamiejamie.

  “I am begging you, love. Leave now! He’s not going to give you another opportunity to escape. You’ve made him too mad. He’s going to hurt you.”

  “He won’t.” Grace tipped a box full of yellowed papers onto the floor. “I’m not going to be here.” Once she had the shawl, she’d be safely back in 1789.

  “Donea do this.” Jamie pleaded an agonized expression on his face. “It’s not worth it. I’m not worth it.”

  “You’re worth everything to me.” She heard Robert coming for her, trying to find her in the maze of shelves. Oh God. Her Keds skidded on the ancient parchment as she worked her way down the row of boxes. For once, she didn’t worry about damaging antiquities. “It has to be here.”

  “Grace!” Robert shouted, his angry voice creating a terrifying echo. “Where are you, you semi-frigid shank?” Seriously, how could someone be semi-frigid and a skank? The man was a total moron. “I’m going to teach you who you really belong to.”

  Jamie was about to lose his mind. “Grace, please!”

  Robert rounded the corner of the aisle, his bloodshot gaze siting on her. “There you are.” He snarled, looking nothing like the husband-materially guy he’d pretended to be for so long.

  Jamie’s eyes widened in horror.

  Robert’s hands went to his belt buckle as he prowled forward. “Nice try, bitch. But now you’ll see who the man is around here.”

  “No, no, no, no, no.” Jamie’s arm came up, trying to shield her. “Grace, where the fuck is the sword?!”

  “Ummm…” She looked around, trying to remember. Had she dropped it in all the historical debris? Everything was happening so fast that…

  Robert hit her.

  Grace fell to the floor, her ears ringing. Whether that was because she’d just been punched in the jaw or because Jamie’s enraged roar was bouncing off the walls at about a million decibels was anyone’s guess. Dots flashed in front of her eyes, as she tried to focus. Robert had just hit her! No one had ever hit Grace before. Her mind was lagging a bit, trying to decide on a course of action through the pain.

  Robert was on her before something brilliant came to mind. His body pressed hers into the floor, preventing her from getting free. His stubby fingers ripped at her tour guide outfit, tearing open the Velcro fastenings.

  Panic hit Grace with the force of a Mack truck, drowning out everything else. “Jamie!” She had no idea what he could do to save her, but calling for him was instinctive.

  “Who the hell is this Jamie?” Robert demanded, giving her a vicious shake. “Are you cheating on me?
Huh?”

  “I’m here, lass.” Jamie dropped to his knees next to her. “Grace, look at me! Stay calm and look at me!”

  She turned her head so she could see him, trying not to sob.

  “I’m here.” It was amazing he could keep his voice so calm, when she could see the wildness in his eyes. “I’m right here. Can you use that menstrual cramp spell, again?

  She tried to call on either of the spells she knew, but she was too scared to concentrate on the incantations. Robert was trying to get his pants unzipped and she was about to lose it completely. She shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Jamie, please help me.” It wasn’t fair to ask him, but she couldn’t think straight.

  “Fuck!” He looked around and she could see him trying to come with a plan. He might have been a lackluster pirate when it came to bloodshed, but all the history books agreed he was a genius as improving attacks. “Alright.” His face was tortured, but his mind was still in gear. “Alright. I know what to do. Put your hand where mine is.” He flattened his palm on the edge of one of the boxes beside them.

  Grace instantly did has he asked. She stopped trying to push Robert away and placed her fingers over Jamie’s instead.

  “Good. Now, when he’s above you, pulled it down onto to his head.”

  The container was made of wood, so it weighed a ton. That plan might just work. Grace seized onto it, because what else could she do? She grabbed hold of box’s lip and nodded. “Okay.” She swallowed hard. “Okay, I can do this.”

  “Damn right you can.” Robert sneered. He fumbled with her skirts, leaning over her. “You’re going to give me everything I…”

  Grace yanked at the box with all her might. The heavy wooden crate slammed into his skull, sending him sideways. It didn’t knock him out, but it did get him off of her. Mostly. She pulled herself backwards along the floor, trying to escape the rest of his weight.