Diary of a Part Time Ghost (Ghosts & Shadows Book 1)

by Vered Ehsani

  The twisted route through alleys and side streets was leading to the harbor. Soon I could see the tops of masts with flags fluttering ahead, the ships still hidden by buildings. As we got closer to our destination, small groups of men, similarly disguised, joined us. Wordlessly, they fell into line, their eyes downcast to avoid recognizing each other. By the time we reached Griffin’s Wharf, there was a compact crowd of at least thirty men and growing. As we rounded the corner of a large brick building, we left the street and stepped onto the narrow wooden deck of the wharf, where several more disguised men waited. The group of would-be saboteurs stared about, feet shuffling, too nervous to stand completely still. From where we stood, we could see three merchant ships moored close by, along with British battle ships from which a number of cannons protruded, the black metal glowing a dull sheen in the light of the lanterns on deck.

  “Oh, this is a great place for looting and vandalism,” I quietly remarked. Yeah, there was a trace of sarcasm there. “While we’re at it, why don’t we blast a few trumpets and make a bonfire on the wharf!”

  “Ash,” Sara chided me seriously, “that wouldn’t be a good idea, you know. Those British soldiers might see it.”

  I rolled my eyes but didn’t respond as I gazed out at the harbor. I wasn’t the only one looking. All the men were staring in fascinated horror at the numerous cannons all seeming to point either at the merchant ships or, more ominously, at the wharf.

  “Right, men!” Jack loudly whispered, and everyone became silent, shifting their attention away from the battle ships. “Get into your groups. Be swift and thorough.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “And careful.”

  “Yeah, and quiet might also be a good idea,” I muttered as the men jostled noisily into their groups.

  Mr. Jill was eyeing me, and he leaned toward Jack, whispering something. Jack nodded and then waved me over. “Boy, you come with me. Connel, you stick by that chap. And you, over there.” He gestured at East Wind to go with another man.

  Sara looked terrified as she reluctantly left us and followed her group toward a long rowboat that set off for one of the ships. I also wasn’t happy about the arrangement. I found myself squeezed into a similar boat that was aimed at another ship. As the boat slid alongside it, I had an image of the previous ship I had boarded, and I shivered. The frigid wind tossing my hair about only added to the deep sense of cold.

  “Come on, lad; up you go,” Jack ordered kindly, pointing to a rope ladder that a couple of the men were already climbing up. With a last glance at the cannons on the neighboring ships, I clambered up. When I reached the deck, I saw that work had already begun. The men were quickly and quietly bringing casks of tea up from the hold to the deck, at which point they cracked open the boxes with their hatchets, filling the air with the warm, musky scent of tea leaves. They then dumped the broken boxes and their contents overboard. I sat on a coil of rope at the base of one of the masts, and kept out of everyone’s way. I lost count of the number of chests that passed by me.

  I scratched at the long bruise on my leg. I wondered if the vandalism I was witnessing was okay because it was being done in the name of justice. The question reminded me of my earlier adventure with the rowboat. I grinned, knowing what Sara’s answer would be: borrowing and breaking other people’s property without permission is wrong, even for a good cause. I really hoped she could keep her opinions to herself; this was not the time or place to give lectures on virtuous behavior.

  I yawned widely, beginning to get bored. I could hear nothing apart from the quiet activity on the ships. The depth of silence from the surrounding environment was very relaxing. I could feel my eyelids droop, and I shook my head fiercely. I did not want to fall asleep. How would we explain my sudden disappearance when the only way off was on the rowboat? I breathed deeply. The cold rush of air filled my lungs, but it didn’t keep fatigue away for long. My chin sagged on my chest and …

  There was a sharp crack and my head snapped up, every part of me at attention. The men near me did the same, crouching low and staring apprehensively at the battle ship floating nearby. There was no motion on the other deck, no repeat of the noise, whatever it had been, and no indication that we had been discovered. The only movement was the flag high up on the mast I was leaning against; the fabric flapped forlornly in the freezing breeze. I shivered, but not just from the cold. I could feel it again, just like in my dream: something had changed.

  “Ashish.”

  I jerked my head around toward the voice and felt a jolt of sharp pain cramp my neck muscles. Grimacing, I peered toward the dock. I suddenly noticed all the shadowy areas where someone could be lurking, waiting for me to return. Great. Just great. But nothing happened. I told myself to stop imaging things; everything was okay. The men came to the same conclusion and continued with their work. I stood up and walked around the deck to distract myself from the sensation of being watched, and to keep myself awake. Below, bobbing around the three ships, were hundreds of crates, their sides caved in and cracked from the blows of the hatchet. Tea leaves were rapidly spreading across the surface of the water.

  As I leaned over the railing and stared, I began to look for patterns. Actually, I didn’t really have to look. There were vaguely familiar shapes being formed by the tea. It took me a couple of minutes to identify them (hey, I was tired, frozen, and starting to get hungry). But eventually, my rather slow and sleep-deprived brain finally figured out what it was seeing.

  The tea leaves had created clearly visible outlines of bodies.

  “Now that’s my kind of tea party!” a screechy voice sneered softly, a horrid whisper in the breeze. Expressions of pain formed in the faces of the twisted tea bodies.

  I leaped away from the railing while frantically searching for the speaker. I heard a quiet cackling, and then a hand descended on my shoulder.

  “What do you think, lad?” Jack asked, nodding toward the sinking tea. The outlines of bodies were no longer there.

  My first response, the one I didn’t give, was, “Just give me a second to shove my heart back down my throat.” Since I couldn’t say that without sounding crazy, my first response was silence. It did take me a few seconds to recover; I expected to see, at any moment, a set of yellow eyes. Then, once my lungs had started working again, I blurted out without thinking, “It’s destroying someone’s property, which is a crime.” And I had been worried about Sara saying something. Real smooth, Ash. This was an historic moment in the creation of the American nation, and I was criticizing it in front of one of the instigators.

  Jack, however, laughed good-naturedly (fortunately for me). “Well, lad, the difference between a criminal and a freedom fighter is sometimes a matter of perspective. And from our perspective, we’re fighting for freedom, and they’re the criminals! So!” He gestured widely. “This is what it had to come to.”

  I didn’t argue. Maybe I was practicing wisdom. Maybe I was still trembling too much from the image of the bodies floating on the water. “Still, it’s an awful waste of tea,” I finally commented, trying to smile with Jack.

  When someone walked up on deck, announcing the arrival of the last chest of tea, there was a muted cheer. It had been a long night. Wearily, we all climbed down into the waiting rowboat. The groups on the other two ships had already started for shore, maneuvering through shattered boxes and a film of saturated tea. Fighting to keep awake, I nodded at Sara as our boats drew close together.

  “How’s it?” I asked absently, trying not to yawn. I had to stay awake long enough to find a hiding place where I could discretely disappear and collapse into sleep.

  “I wonder,” Sara said sleepily and in between yawns, “how long do you think it’ll be before this harbor is free of tea?”

  I shrugged and couldn’t muster up the energy to answer. The moment we climbed aboard the wharf, I discreetly waved to Sara, who nodded in return. Then I dodged through the quietly celebrating crowd and slipped into a shadowy recess of a nearby building. No one seemed
to notice. Leaning against a wooden door, I waited until the men had moved past. Taking a deep breath, I shifted my focus to the veil and looked with exhaustion and relief as the silvery shimmer began to appear around me. Just as I leaned toward it, I glanced back at the freedom fighters. Following the group was Kali, his gaze fixed maliciously on Sara.

  Without thinking (again), I stumbled back onto the wooden planks of the wharf, energized with the need to warn Sara. Bad move. I immediately wished I hadn’t moved so fast. I wished I had thought a bit more. I wished I had actually made a plan. Kali must have heard or felt the thump of my feet hitting the deck, for he slowly looked behind and straight at me. The man grinned demonically and changed direction.

  “Well, Ashish,” he hissed nastily as he approached me, “you’re making this easier all the time.”

  I tried to move, to turn around and run, but the blazing yellow eyes were locked onto me, and I couldn’t look away. I could see over Kali’s shoulder that Sara was now leaving the wharf, walking between Jack and Jill; East Wind was close behind. But most of my vision was filled with insane, hypnotic yellow. At least, my numbed mind informed me, Sara was safe from danger. That was the good news. The bad news was that the danger was stalking toward me.

  Don’t let him touch you, the veil, or the Book.

  I could hear Bibi’s whisper floating out of some memory of a conversation I had had with her, but it didn’t free my limbs from their frozen state. Despite the cold of the night, a dribble of sweat slipped down my forehead and into one of my eyes. I involuntarily blinked at the sting of the salt, and the distraction broke the spell of terror that had immobilized me. Taking the opportunity, I abruptly spun around and began to run down the wharf, in the opposite direction of Sara. My first instinct was to open the veil, but I couldn’t let Kali get a chance to jump inside. I needed to get some distance between us first.

  Kali laughed, and the night became even colder. “Where are you going, boy?” he cackled mockingly as he strode after his prey (that’s me). “It’s the end of the pier, and the water is like ice. You’ll freeze to death in no time.”

  Even as the words were uttered, I reached the end of the pier. I hated that he was right. Wind blew off the dark water and carried with it a hint of the bone-numbing cold in front of me. Just as I began to open the veil, I felt as much as heard the man walk right up behind me, a dark and eager presence that seemed to urge me to continue.

  Don’t let him touch you, the veil, or the book.

  What would happen if Kali did get in? I shivered at the vision of such an utterly immoral and loathsome creature entering the pure sanctity of that place of light. Without thinking (I’m really good at that—not thinking), I shut the veil and leapt into the ocean. Yes, I jumped into a freezing body of water on a freezing cold winter night. That’s what happens when you don’t think. I heard an angry howl from behind and wondered why Kali didn’t just jump after me. Shadows don’t feel the cold. That was pretty much the last coherent thought I had for a while.

  Then black, freezing water rushed over my head and into my clothes. I almost screamed from the shock of the temperature, but managed to keep my mouth closed. The salty water forced me to shut my eyes. I was immersed in a frigid world without light, sound, or air. I was rapidly sinking farther into that world. I struggled to kick myself up to the surface, but the weight of my saturated clothes pulled me down while the cold squeezed the energy out of my limbs. Desperate, I willed my arms to move, but my sweater felt like it was made of lead. All I could think about was darkness and cold and …

  Fortunately, there was a quiet corner of my mind that actually did a lot of thinking, just really quietly. Even in my panic-stricken, frozen, suffocating state, that corner whispered a question, completely out of place: What does that quote really mean? I tried to think, but my body was cramped up with the cold. My lungs ached from lack of air, and every muscle screamed its desire to get out of this frigid, watery, airless hell.

  Something about focus.

  Whose words were those? My tired and fading mind tried to pinpoint the source, even as I began to sink into darkness.

  You reflect what you focus on. Focus on the light.

  Light touched my eyelids. I instinctively opened my eyes. Ouch. I instantly shut them tight. Salt water stings. But in that brief moment, I saw a swirling, glowing current. Wearily, I stretched out an arm to touch the surface. My fingers were completely numb, and I hardly felt the vacuum-like pull on my hand that reached up to embrace my entire water-logged body. Air rushed into my lungs in an almost painful gush. I had to squeeze my eyes shut against the searing light that briefly enveloped me. Then, with a grateful sigh, I plunged back into darkness.

  Chapter 18

  Finally, I was sincerely and completely sick, runny nose and all. No joke. Lucky me. When I woke up the first time, I was lying on the floor of my bedroom, sniffling and shivering and feeling soggy, although my clothes were dry. With some difficulty, I crawled into bed just as Mom came into my room. She looked at my haggard, blood-shot eyes and my pale, cold face. There was no discussion. I was staying home from school.

  “Ashish, you need to take better care of yourself,” she fussed.

  “Okay,” I mumbled before falling back asleep.

  When I awoke again, it was past midday. For a brief moment, I could have sworn I could smell a whiff of tea and sea salt. I never wanted to drink tea ever again. I was sure that vow wouldn’t last long, but right at that moment, just the smell of it brought back memories of nasty images. After checking that I was really alive and unfrozen, my first impulse was to dive back into the book and find Sara. My grumbling stomach decided otherwise. As firmly as possible, I told myself that a few extra minutes one way or another wouldn’t matter.

  Plodding downstairs and still groggy and sniffling from the late-night adventure, I grabbed leftovers from dinner. As I waited for them to warm up in the microwave, I chomped on an apple and gazed outside to a bright day: the sun was out, the grass was green, the flowers were poking up from the ground, and the bush was waving at me.

  I looked again and almost choked on my apple. Bits of the fruit spluttered out as I coughed. Choking on apple bits is painful. They stick in your throat and they don’t dissolve; they just stick. It’s nasty. My throat hurt. I thumped my chest while opening the door and confirmed my initial observation: a hand was gesturing me over to the bush.

  “Bibi, what are you doing?” I hissed, glancing about. The neighborhood was quiet and deserted-looking. Almost everyone was at school or work, or out running errands.

  “I just thought I’d check up on you. Make sure you’re still alive, that sort of thing.” She paused and wrinkled her nose. “Something feels different here.” Then her eyes widened and she whispered urgently, “Does anyone else know?”

  “What?” I demanded weakly, bewildered and still recovering from choking on the apple, in between sneezing.

  “Does anyone else know about the book?” she demanded, her voice tight with impatience and concern.

  “Uh … well, my sisters know you gave it to me,” I replied slowly, wondering if that counted. Then again, I had to get the book back, so I had had no choice. “And my mom’s seen it, but she thinks it’s a school book, and my sisters too. Except maybe Shanti, but she still doesn’t …”

  Bibi pushed her way out of the bush and dragged me into the kitchen. She closed the door and then peered out of the window. Satisfied, she turned to me. “Anyone else? And have you told anyone what it shows you?”

  “No, and definitely no way,” I emphatically answered. “They’d think I’m crazy for sure. Why on earth would I tell anyone?”

  Bibi looked slightly relieved as she muttered, “That’s good, dear.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was referring to me being crazy or no one else knowing. I was about to comment on that, but paused. She still looked concerned. Maybe this wasn’t the time to crack jokes.

  “Please be extra careful,” she finally warned. “Th
e more people you tell, the greater the chance of him using them to get to you. And if he finds the book while you’re inside, you could get trapped.”

  “What?” I asked in a squeaky voice. I really should have read the fine print before signing up for this. Then again, I hadn’t signed up for this and there was no fine print or anything else to tell me anything of any use. Yeah, I was a little bitter about that.

  “That’s what happened to Kali,” she continued briskly, “but he did manage to leave his reflection here …”

  “Wait, there’s another one?” I interrupted, my voice rising.

  “Yes, in a manner of speaking. His reflection—all the nasty, hateful stuff he focuses on—is stuck here,” Bibi explained, forehead furrowing. “Didn’t I mention this before?”

  “No,” I responded with irritation, “you kind of neglected that part.”

  “Oh, dear, I am getting forgetful with age. I really should’ve told you that,” she admitted in an apologetic voice.

  “Yeah, that might have been a good idea,” I commented. Unbelievable. How do you forget something that important? “That explains why I thought I was seeing Kali around our house.”

  “It was here?” Bibi exclaimed, her gray eyebrows rising up into her hairline, and then she breathed out slowly as I nodded. “That’s the difference,” she murmured to herself, and then looked at me. “The fact it came here means it suspects something.”

  “Great. So that basically means I’m not safe anywhere.”