Ghost Huntress Book 6: The Journey

by Marley Gibson

  “Oh, my God, Princess Diana. I’m, like, a huge fan of yours. I’m so in awe of everything you did in your life, especially all of the charity work.”

  The ghost dips her eyes demurely at the compliment as the rest of the team surrounds me with camera and digital recorders.

  “Are you in pain?” I ask.

  “No, dear.”

  “What happened that fateful night in Paris? In the Pont de Alma tunnel?”

  She doesn’t respond.

  I push, though. “You died in a horrible car accident.”

  The princess nods. “The accident happened very quickly. My pain has been forgotten.”

  From across the room, Christian apparently can’t stand that I’m conversing with a famous British ghost. He tugs out one of his Ouija boards and crosses over to where I am. He sits down on the floor in front of where the princess is standing and lays the board on the floor.

  “Jayne, I need you,” he says calmly. She scuttles over quickly and sits next to him.

  Incredulously, I say, “I’m sort of in the middle of a conversation here, Christian.”

  He doesn’t care or even acknowledge me. Instead, he places his hands on the planchette as Jayne does the same. “I’d like to communicate with the spirit that is here with us this evening.”

  Patrick steps up. “Dude, Kendall’s talking to the spirit right now. Back off.”

  Oliver puts his hand to Patrick’s chest to stave him off. “It’s okay, Patrick. Let’s see what Christian has in mind.”

  I look at Princess Di who doesn’t seem amused by this. “Don’t let him do this,” she says firmly.

  “What choice do I have?” I say back to her.

  The planchette moves underneath Christian and Jayne’s fingers, sliding left and right. Glancing at Maddie, I see tears filling her eyes and she begins to tremble.

  “This isn’t right,” she whispers, but no one seems to care.

  Christian closes his eyes and rolls his head around, performing, this time, for Taylor’s video camera. She zooms in on him, not missing a moment, and he definitely starts to put on a show.

  “Come speak to me,” he says in a monotone. “You may use my body as a vessel to communicate with us. Who are you? Who is this spirit that dwells in Lady Hewitt’s home?”

  I reach for Patrick’s hand again and lace my fingers through his. Our psychic energy surges together and I’m nearly lightning-bolted in place. An unseen vortex of cold air encircles us, swirling around and down, over toward Christian and Jayne seated on the floor.

  “I call upon you to tell us your name,” Christian says.

  I watch, wide-eyed, as the planchette moves rapidly across the polished wood. Just as it did last night at Mrs. Flanders’s house.

  Celia announces, “D. O. J. O. Dojo.” She snaps her head up. “It says Dojo again.”

  Maddie begins to cry. “I don’t like this. Oliver, I’m frightened.”

  He shushes her. “It’s okay.”

  No, it’s not okay.

  Christian’s hands fall off the planchette and he flops backward onto the antique carpet. Lady Hewitt nearly spasms with her quick intake of breath. Christian jerks to the left, then the right, and squirms around on the carpet.

  I honestly want to laugh in a sick sort of way. Is this kid for real?

  Patrick steps in front of me almost to provide a barrier between me and Christian’s shenanigans. Still, Christian shouts out in pain, writhing about. I steal a glance at Princess Di who fades away into a mere wisp of a cloud. Even she isn’t impressed with the goings on here.

  Then Christian screams out. “I am Dojo! The dark and evil lord. You will not cross me.”

  Jayne cries and backs away from Christian as fast as she can. Still, he continues channeling.

  “I am the demon Dojo. You will bow down and worship me!”

  A large oil painting over the fireplace crashes forward, falling to the floor where the princess once stood. Patrick and I jump back as the frame barely misses us.

  “Get out!” Christian shouts. “Get out of my sight!”

  Jessica and Maddie cling to each other, both of them crying hard. Celia reaches for Jason, who wraps his arm around her. Taylor, God love her, keeps a steady camera on the action.

  Jayne covers her ears with her hands and screams out, “Christian! Stop this! You’re scaring me!”

  “I am Dojo! I am the lord demon. Worship me now!”

  I break free from my boyfriend and grab Oliver’s arm. “You’ve got to put a stop to this! Everyone is freaking the freak out.”

  Lady Hewitt agrees, “I do believe the young woman is right. This is way beyond what I expected when I agreed to let your group in for an investigation.”

  “I do apologize, Lady Hewitt,” Oliver says. “We never know what we’ll encounter.” He bends down to touch Christian, who rears up and smacks at Oliver. Christian’s fist connects squarely with Oliver’s right eye and we all gasp.

  “Oh, my God!” Celia shouts.

  “Help him!” I add.

  “I can’t handle this.” Maddie rushes out of the room, Jessica right on her heels.

  Patrick looks over at Jason. “Help me!”

  I stand back as the two of them grab Christian from either side. Oliver, shaking off the attack, places his hands on Christian’s face. “Come back, Christian. Kick him out. Take your body back.”

  Reaching down, I grab the Ouija board and sling it across the room, away from Christian. Jayne cowers on the floor in front of me, so I stoop to wrap my arms around her. She whimpers in my ear and I whisper that it’ll be okay. I hope I’m not lying.

  Christian tries to take a swing at Jason, but he holds on tightly. As does Patrick. It’s nice to see these two working together instead of against each other. The three men continue to wrestle around, with Oliver doing his best to bring Christian out of the trance.

  And then, just like that, Christian pops back to reality, his breath ragged.

  Patrick helps Jason up, and then Jason offers Christian his hand. The young Scot refuses the assistance and stands up on his own, wiping his hands down the side of his jeans. He crosses the room and retrieves his precious Ouija board, tucking it back into his bag. Jayne shivers in my arms as I hug her tightly to me.

  “Why don’t you go on out to the bus,” I suggest. “Taylor, walk Jayne out?”

  “Of course,” she says. She gets her camera and then ushers Jayne out of the room.

  Lady Hewitt nearly faints over onto her couch and then begins crying. “I want you out of here, straight away.”

  Oliver tries to catch his own breath. “I understand. We’re very sorry, Lady Hewitt.”

  I don’t blame her one bit. This was completely out of hand.

  As we’re leaving the castle, Christian and I are the last ones out. He levels his icy-gray stare at me as a sneer crosses his face.

  “That went quite nicely, don’t you think?”

  He’s completely out of control.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Back at the hotel, I sit out on my balcony overlooking the city and try to call Father Mass.

  “How many hours am I ahead of Georgia?” I ask to no one. The time change has me completely messed up. I don’t know if I’m going to wake the father up or interrupt him during a church service.

  Neither. The call goes to his voice mail.

  “You’ve reached the voice mail of Father Massimo Castellano. Please leave a message at the tone and God bless.”

  Beep.

  I take a deep breath. “Hi, Father Mass. It’s me, Kendall, calling from across the pond. How British of me, huh?” I giggle at my nervousness. “Listen, things are, like, really weird here. There’s this kid from Scotland who’s an up-and-coming TV-wannabe psychic and he’s into using a Ouija board during our investigations. Both times he’s connected with this alleged demon named Dojo that’s been haunting him since he was a little kid. I don’t know if he’s for real of if this is all a bunch of hooey, but I just wanted
to let you know. Maybe you and Loreen can help us figure out what’s going on.” I pause and catch my breath. “Miss you guys. Call me or e-mail. Thanks.”

  I click the phone off and stare out at the London skyline.

  I call out to the sky. “Anona, I sure wish you’d help me. I don’t know whether this Christian guy is for real or what.”

  I hold my breath a full twenty seconds hoping my spirit guide will appear to me. But nothing. Damn ghosts… don’t show up when you really need them.

  Although someone joins me.

  “Hey, Kendall,” I hear a small voice.

  I turn to see the young blond push her glasses up higher on her nose. “Hey, Jayne. What’s up?”

  She sits next to me and fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “I wanted to thank you for helping me tonight.”

  “No worries,” I say.

  “I’m still new to all of this and it’s a bit frightening experiencing things. I’m a bit scattered over my emotions and trying to sort them all out,” she says in her thick Scottish accent. “I used to watch Most Haunted all the time, but I never thought I’d be actually going on ghost hunts myself until I started seeing ghosts.”

  Reaching out for her hand, I say, “I’m still getting used to all of this myself. Unfortunately, there’s really no learner’s manual to tell us how to think, feel, act, or whatever. We just have to figure it out as we go along.”

  “Right-o,” she says. “You were brilliant tonight.”

  I shrug. “Not exactly.”

  “And don’t you think Christian was brilliant, too?”

  Not exactly. “To be honest with you, Jayne, I’m not sure what I think of Christian.”

  Her eyes widen. “He’s amazing. He’s so strong and confident. I want to be poised like him. I’m so bloody lucky to have won this chance to study with him. But even more so, I get to know all of you, as well.”

  I don’t want to bust this girl’s flavor over my own intuition about Christian. Instead, I reassure her. “I’m here for you any time you need me. We’re going to be together all summer, so whatever I can do to help.”

  She smiles brightly. “That’s fantastic.” Then she closes her eyes for a second and opens them again. “I just had a psychic flash. Patrick is in the Urban Garden meditating. I think he had a lousy day.”

  “We all sort of did. I think I’ll go see him.”

  I stand up to leave and Jayne grabs my hand again. “You’re the best, Kendall.”

  *~*~*

  Patrick’s sitting under the garden tent with his eyes closed, strumming out a Beatles tune on his guitar—appropriately so considering where we are—when I find him. I unobtrusively tug out a chair and ease down into it beside him.

  He must sense my presence because he cracks open his left eye and peers over at me. A weak smile crosses his face and he stops playing.

  “Hey, you,” I say. “Sounds nice.”

  “The boys from Liverpool.”

  “And a little alone time for you,” I add.

  “Yeah, I needed it,” he says. “Things aren’t right.”

  I sigh. “I know. I’ve been all tingly today. And that experience with Princess Diana tonight. That was just… wow. I have no other words.”

  He sets the guitar down on the table in front of him and cricks his neck. “I don’t know, Kendall. Maybe this trip wasn’t a good idea. I thought we’d have fun, but this is…intense.”

  I want to reach out to him, but his body language isn’t exactly open at the moment.

  “Do you think that was seriously the Princess of Wales I saw tonight?”

  “There’s no telling. This land is wrought with spirit activity. And we were near where she used to live.”

  Dreamily, I say, “I’ve so admired her and have cried over YouTube videos of her funeral with those two little princes walking behind her casket. The whole world mourned for her. What an amazing soul to have affected so many people. I just don’t want to think of her spirit being restless.”

  Patrick turns to me. “I’m sort of blown away by it, too, even though I didn’t see her. Maybe it’s another spirit reaching out to you as her.”

  I cock my head to the side. “Is that possible?”

  Another boy shrug. “I don’t know. We’re still sort of learning all of this as we go along.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  We sit in silence for a moment, listening to the city sounds around us. A police siren. Cars passing underneath. Voices from a nearby balcony. The smell of Korean Pho from a street food truck. Somewhere nearby, a television sounds out the BBC’s evening broadcast. A rumble of thunder overhead signals an oncoming shower.

  Relaxing for nearly the first time today, I let my guard down. Curtain-falling the white light I’ve kept so tightly around me. So much so that I haven’t even let Patrick in. I miss my connection with him, though.

  I slide my hand up his arm, up onto his shoulder, and slip my fingers into his thick hair. He turns his dark eyes onto me and smiles.

  “I love being here with you,” I say in a whisper.

  “Me too,” he agrees. “I’m sorry I’ve been closed off. My intuition has me all jittery. And I’m worried about my dad, too.”

  Kneading at his neck, I ask, “He’s doing okay, right?”

  Patrick nods. “Yeah. He’s good. I just hate that I’m not there for him. Especially when he didn’t leave my side after my diving accident.”

  Patrick nearly died when he was diving in Barbados with his dad and got his regulator caught. He panicked and sliced the hose with his dive knife, nearly drowning before he was revived. That’s when he awakened with his own psychic abilities. And now, we’re totally connected with each other, so much so, that I can literally feel his heartache right now.

  I want to ease his pain and let him know how much I love him, even though neither one of us have voiced the actual words.

  “You’re dad’s a great guy,” I say.

  “He really likes you,” Patrick says, his eyes glancing down at where our fingers are entwined.

  I giggle. “And so do you.”

  He laughs and squeezes my hand. “Yeah. Whatever.”

  I reach up and tug at his hair over that comment and he yelps.

  He pulls me into a bear hug and wrestles around with me for a moment as I squeal like the girl that I totally am. Then he gets still and serious, lifting his hand to cup my face. He’s got that dreamy look in his eyes that he gets right before he moves in to kiss me.

  And I want him to kiss me. I need him to kiss me.

  As he moves in slowly, I turn my head and suddenly a memory of another kiss slips into my thoughts. I try desperately to block the recollection, but it’s too late, and it transfers to my psychic boyfriend’s mind.

  He jolts back and pushes away from me. Horror and disgust cover his face. “You kissed Jason Tillson? Right here?”

  “No!”

  “Yes!”

  “Patrick, I can explain! It wasn’t—”

  He waves me off. “You don’t have to explain, Kendall. I can see it.” Then he wipes at the air between us. “God, I don’t want to see this.”

  I reach out for him. “It wasn’t me. It was all him.”

  “Right.”

  “I pushed away from him, Patrick.”

  He glowers at me. “You know, I was cool with him being on this trip because I know how protective he is of Taylor. But, I’ve had my doubts about his motives from day one when it comes to you. I’ve never trusted him.” Patrick’s eyes sear with mine. “Apparently, I can’t trust you, either.”

  “That’s completely unfair! I can’t control another person, Patrick.”

  “You can control yourself.”

  He did not just go there. “I didn’t do anything! He kissed me.”

  It must’ve meant something, Kendall.” Patrick lightly taps his finger on my head. “I saw the memory. It’s in there. You want it in there.”

  I shake my head, hoping it will knock that memory ou
t onto the floor where it’ll roll away into the darkness of the night.

  “He does still have feelings for me,” I admit honestly.

  “That’s apparent,” Patrick says.

  “I don’t still have feelings for him,” I stress.

  “That is not apparent.”

  I slam my hand down. “God, Patrick! Why are you being so stupid? Boys can be so stupid.” I want to tell him I love him. I want to say those three words. He can obviously hear them in my mind. Why won’t he say them? Why should I have to say them first? “You have to trust me. Jason and I are over.”

  “I want to believe that.”

  “Well, believe it.”

  We sit in silence momentarily. I can almost hear the second hands ticking away on some unseen clock. My heartbeat picks up to a near in-need-of-medication pace.

  Then I think, I love you…

  And nothing.

  Patrick slowly stands up and sulks off.

  “You can’t walk out on me,” I beg.

  “Yeah, I can.” He sighs and stares at the ground. “Today was exhausting. I’m worried about Jayne and her attachment to Christian. I think Christian’s a dick, and I just don’t feel as bonded and connected to you since Jason Tillson came back to Radisson.”

  I stand up and face him. “You’re the most important thing to me. None of those things matter, Patrick. You and I are the only thing that matter.”

  Please believe me!

  Silence.

  Patrick shakes his head and leans over to grab his guitar. Without speaking another word—verbally or psychically—he leaves me standing there as he heads off to his room.

  The thunder booms again and the rain begins to spray down on me.

  All I can do is stand here and get soaked.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I’m shaken awake by a loving hand.

  “Come on, Kendall. Time to get up,” Aunt Andi says.

  “I don’t want to,” I mumble from underneath the covers. “I had a crappy night.”

  She mercilessly pulls the blanket away from me. “But you’re going to have a wonderful day.”

  I tuck my head under the mountain of pillows and moan. My head hurts from overthinking everything that’s happened since I touched down here in the United Kingdom. My eyes ache from crying myself to sleep after Patrick walked out on me. “London sucks.”