Ghost Huntress Book 6: The Journey

by Marley Gibson

  I’m tired of being a sidekick to this circus act. I have my own money, and I don’t need to follow Oliver through this one-way trek. I look over at my aunt, who must have morphed into a psychic herself because I can tell she’s reading my mind, or maybe she just sees my obvious exhaustion at the Christian Campbell dog and pony show.

  “I’ll take care of everything,” Aunt Andi says, reaching for her cellphone.

  I love that we understand each other on a much deeper level.

  Christian clears his throat, and both he and Oliver look over at us.

  “Something’s wrong,” Oliver states.

  “Hello, Captain Obvious,” Jason quips.

  I step forward to speak for our group. “We’re going to take a little break, Oliver. We need some time, umm, on our own. You and Christian have your focus that doesn’t really include us, so we’re going to hang out together for a few days.”

  Oliver crinkles his brow. “Kendall, that’s not neces—”

  “—yeah, it sort of is.”

  “She’s right.” Patrick places a hand on the small of my back.

  Aunt Andi joins in. “I’ll keep a watchful eye over them, Oliver. They won’t be penniless, wandering the streets of Paris. I have some connections here and I’ve already set a plan in motion.”

  “If that’s what you want,” Oliver says.

  “I think it’s what’s best,” I tell him. Honestly, the guy is wicked psychic, yet he can’t see that putting all of his metaphysical eggs in one basket with Christian has literally run off everyone from his summer tour. Maddie and Jessica wanting nothing to do with this and now we want to get away. I don’t understand Oliver’s blind faith in this kid.

  Then there’s Jayne. My heart aches as I glance over at the disappointment on her face. I’d promised Anona that I’d take care of the girl, yet here I am walking away from Christian’s shenanigans.

  “You wanna come with us?” I ask her. I mean, I know her nice Scottish parents set her off on a chaperoned trip with the world-famous Oliver Bates, but I wish I could break her away from this idolized view of Christian and how he can “mentor” her.

  She’s thinking about it. I can see the gears churning in her head. But she pouts and shifts her eyes over to where Oliver is speaking with Christian. “I’m supposed to be learning from him.”

  “I understand.” I don’t really. “Do what you have to do. I just wanted you to know you’re welcome to come with us.” For me to protect you.

  “I need to stay with Christian.” Then Jayne adds with a bit of desperation in her voice, “You’re coming back, right?”

  “We’re only going to be gone a couple of days,” I tell her.

  Aunt Andi rounds us up and we wave goodbye to Oliver, Christian, and Jayne. It’s the right thing to do. We need a break. I need a break. I need time to think. To focus. To figure out what’s going on here.

  Celia takes my arm in hers. “Andi says this hotel has wi-fi, so I’m going to do some intense research on this kid and what he’s up to.”

  I smile at my friend. “When did you become psychic?”

  “When this douchebag came into our lives,” she says with a laugh.

  Jason and Patrick tend to all of our bags and load them into the cabs that we take over to the seventh arrondissment – whatever that means. I wish I’d spent more time researching the culture and language. I figured I’d be so busy with investigations and trying to help people with their own hauntings and such that I wouldn’t have time to be a tourist. Christian’s antics have changed everything.

  “Arrondissments are districts,” Taylor explains. “The city is broken up into different sections. The seventh is near the Eiffel Tower on the left bank of the Seine River. Very chic address. Prestigious area.”

  Ahhh…the Eiffel Tower. I can’t wait to see that. That’s the ultimate symbol of the city… and of love. I envision standing at the top with Patrick overlooking the Paris all lit up at night. We’re hugged together and I feel at peace and so loved. Is this a vision, a memory, or a glance into the future?

  Our cab lets us off on Rue Cler, a market street hustling and bustling with people rushing about between the stores. There’s a butcher shop with hanging slabs of beef and pork in the window. Or is that horse meat? Eww! A patisserie, or bakery, has its doors wide open so that the sweet aroma of butter and chocolate tickle our noses. Another sign reads “boulangerie” and sports baguettes, rounds of bread, and other baked goods. Flowers in every color of the rainbow line the outside of another store, with a crepe vendor standing nearby, flipping over the thin pancakes for a hungry customer. A cheese shop nearby smells of the pungent scent of its wares. I cringe a bit at the sharp odor.

  Taylor grins wide. “Fromageries in Paris are known for their stinkiness.”

  I want to laugh and gag all at the same time. “I think I’ll stick to cheddar, thanks.”

  Celia stares up at the name of where we’re going to stay. “Grand Hotel Leveque. Looks quaint.”

  Taylor breaks into a stream of French that I don’t even try to interpret. She’s in her element, flirting with a man who’s holding the hotel door open for us.

  “How did you find this place?” I ask my aunt.

  “I stayed here when I was in college and did my backpacking thing. Back when their money was a franc instead of a euro. It’s small, very European, but good for our purposes.”

  I hug her to me. “Thanks for making this happen.”

  “You needed a break, sweetie. I don’t need psychic powers to see that you kids were not only being upstaged, but minimalized.”

  The lift—elevator—to the third floor barely holds two people. Celia blushes as Jason hops in with her and wraps his arms around her so they’ll both fit. I wait for the jealousy to kick in, but it’s not there. I’m okay with the fact that I’m not with Jason. And he’s being civil and keeping his distance, respecting that I’m with Patrick.

  Aunt Andi’s and my room is at the front of the hotel with two small single beds. The décor is orange and brown, and we have a tiny wrought iron balcony that looks over Rue Cler. Celia and Taylor take the room next door and a third room across the hall is for the guys.

  Jason pulls up short and looks at Patrick. “So, we’re sharing?”

  “Looks that way,” Patrick says. “Don’t worry, I don’t snore that loudly.”

  Jason dashes a glance at me. “That’s going to be a bit awkward, don’t you think?”

  “Why?” I chime in.

  “Never mind,” he mumbles.

  Celia steps between them. “Get over it. We’re only going to be sleeping and showering here. You boys won’t have time to gossip about your love of Kendall.”

  Whoa! Celia Nichols! WTH!

  Jason and Patrick back down from the argument and disappear into their room without another comment. Oh, man, to be a fly on that wall.

  “Celia! Why did you say that?”

  “Elle est une lapalissade,” Taylor says.

  “Huh? English, please.”

  Taylor smirks at me. “She’s being honest.”

  “About what?”

  “What?” Celia asks incredulously. “Like we don’t all know what’s going on here, Kendall.”

  Embarrassed beyond belief, I feel my face heat like a homecoming bonfire. Celia flattens her lips and places her hands on her hips. “Every guy on this trip is drooling over you, Kendall. You’ve got Patrick, that’s true, but why do you think Jason is here, as well?”

  “To protect Taylor.”

  “That’s just an excuse,” Taylor says. “He’s here to be near you.”

  He did admit his feelings to me back in London, but I hadn’t shared that little tidbit with anyone. I guess my friends are psychic, as well.

  “Christian’s got his sights on you, as well.” Celia rocks back and forth on her feet. She’s been unusually reserved so far on the trip, but she has something to say.

  I click my tongue. “Christian’s a troublemaker. And a real dick.
”

  Celia shrugs. “Maybe. Still….”

  I sigh hard. “Stop it! I don’t want any of this. I just want to be with Patrick. He’s the only one.”

  Celia hangs her head and then Taylor takes my hand gently in hers, very motherly, almost. “Then you need to tell it to Jason straight up. Once and for all.”

  I swallow hard. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  *~*~*

  A little while later, I find Jason out on Rue Cler in front of the flower shop. Or Cler Fleurs, as it’s called in French. He’s picking through pails of yellow daisies, white roses, and pink tulips that line the outside of the storefront stacked three deep. The sweet aromas of the many blossoms reach out and tickle my nose as I approach closer.

  “Whatcha doing?” I ask, surprising him.

  “Hey, Kendall,” he says. “I was just….”

  “Getting me flowers,” I say, finishing his thought that I can clearly read.

  “Yeah, well, you know. I thought it would be a nice gesture and all.”

  I walk about to his left and lightly pass my hand over a bundle of fresh lavender. It’s almost a sweet, smoky smell, yet at the same time, it reminds me of a birthday cake my Grandma Ethel made for me when I was nine years old when she steeped dried lavender into a tea and used it in the icing.

  “The stuff grows crazy in the south of France,” I say, not knowing where the information suddenly came from. That’s my brain, though. Flashes of knowledge spring up at me with little or no warning.

  “In Marseilles,” Jason says, shrugging. “I heard Taylor talking about it. It’s supposed to help you sleep or something like that.”

  I haven’t actually had a good night’s rest since the whole Dojo Disturbance started. Maybe a sprig or two of this stuff would do me some good.

  I reach to pluck a bundle and my fingers bump into Jason’s, going for the same bunch. I try to pull back, but he snags my hand in his. His beautiful blue eyes darken slightly as he begs me with them, urging me to take him back.

  “I can’t, Jason,” I say, barely above a whisper.

  A passing bicyclists whizzes to close to us and I jump a bit. Jason instinctively wraps his arm around me. I enjoy the protection, though only momentarily. I’ve moved past needing him to be my savior, guardian, and knight in shining armor. Nowadays, I save myself.

  “Kendall….”

  I shake my head and step away from his touch. “I’ll always care about you, Jason. Always. You’ll be my first love, like, for the rest of my life. No one can take that away from us. But things happened. You left. I changed. You withdrew. I found someone else. I never meant to hurt you or lead you to believe we still had a chance.” I take in a deep, deep breath for courage. “I’m in love with Patrick. Like, totally and completely.”

  “I know,” he says.

  “You’re a great guy, Jason. You won’t have trouble finding someone else.”

  He snickers at me. “You’re a tough act to follow.”

  I scrunch up my face. “Isn’t that a line from Superman 2?”

  Jason tosses his head back and laughs. “I can’t get anything past you.”

  “I don’t know why you’d try.”

  He gathers me to him again for a bear hug. This time, there’s nothing romantic or wanting about it at all. Instead, it’s an embrace between friends. Two people who’ll always be there for each other.

  Jason digs into his pocket and pulls out a few euro coins. He goes over and pays the shop lady and then takes a small bunch of the lavender and hands it over to me.

  “You didn’t have to….”

  “I wanted to,” he says. “You need your sleep, Kendall. We’ve got a hell of a fight ahead of us with this piece of work, Christian Campbell. We’re going to need you in tip top shape.”

  I take the flowers and press them to my nose. “Thanks, Jase.”

  He’s right. The battle has yet to begin.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Remarkably, I have one of the best nights of sleep that I’ve had in a long time. Aunt Andi and I steeped some of the fragrant lavender in a tea for me that I drank with a little sugar. Then, I placed some of the stems under my pillow and did some deep breathing to try and relax and try to wipe my obsessive thoughts of Christian Campbell out of my mind. Next thing I knew, the alarm was going off and the sun was peeking through the sheer curtains of our room.

  I stretch my arms over my head and wiggle my feet underneath the covers. Slowly, I withdraw from the sheets and pad over to the window. I swing open the shutters and take in the dewy freshness of the early morning. A French flag flaps in the breeze just above my balcony, reminding me of where I am—so far away from home. Pigeons flap around on the adjacent roof tops and the market street below begins to come alive with merchants opening up for another day of business.

  And today, I’m not a psychic kid or part of Christian Campbell’s entourage. Today, I’m just…moi.

  “How are you feeling?” Aunt Andi asks from underneath the mound of pillows on her bed.

  “I’m… great,” I say with confidence. “Nothing like a fourteen-hour low grade coma.”

  She laughs. “You missed out on a fun evening, but rest was the most important thing for you.”

  I plop down on the end of her bed and tuck my feet up underneath me. “What did you guys do?”

  “We took a bateaux down the Seine.”

  “A bateaux? What’s that?”

  “One of those long, glass boats that float down the river,” my aunt explains. “We started at the Eiffel Tower and cruised all the way down to Notre Dame. It was breathtaking.”

  I bite my lip at bit at missing out on the touristy stuff.

  “Taylor couldn’t stop taking pictures of everything we saw along the way. That girl has an amazing eye,” Andi says. “Some of her shots last night were gorgeous. I could do a whole display in my gallery based on her talent.”

  “That would be cool.”

  Andi pulls herself up out of bed. “In fact, I have a meeting with a gallery today to try and get one of their exhibits over to St. Louis. Everyone was talking about doing the tourist thing today if you’re up to it.”

  Exhilaration races through my body. “Oh, hell yeah!” I’m in Paris and I want to see everything. No regrets. No looking back in ten years wishing I’d done this, that, or the other thing.

  I shower, dress, and head downstairs to the restaurant where my friends are. Taylor is sipping a café and studying a Paris Metro map. Celia and Jason have their heads bent together talking about a new piece of ghost hunting equipment she ordered from DigitalDowsing.com. I don’t want to talk shop right now. I want to be immersed in everything that Paris has to offer.

  A warm hand slides across my waist and I jump a bit at the contact.

  “Hey, babe,” Patrick says to me softly. Ahh, good. He’s not still mad at me. “I missed you last night.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “I had to have a major system shut down. I’m good now, though.”

  His smile is heartwarming as it spreads across his face. “Taylor and I planned out the whole day. All you need is a Metro pass.”

  I return his excitement with a grin of my own. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  *~*~*

  I’ve ridden the L in Chicago, the Tube in London, and MARTA in Atlanta, but they’re not anything like the Paris Metro. Each station is unique and a work of art in and of itself. Street performers entertain in the tunnels and entrances, playing beautiful music to entertain passersby. I sense a lot of transient souls surrounding us in the underground; however, I shut my eyes to them. Now’s not the time to try and help the spirits of Paris. I’m just an American teenager with her friends, enjoying all that the city has to offer.

  We leave our Metro station, Ecole Militaire, and enjoy pretty much every highlight of Paris. We spend several hours in the Louvre—I could stay there a year alone—marveling at the massive portraits, statues, and centuries old artwork. I’ll admit the wait in line to see the Mona Lis
a was a bit disappointing. She’s not as big as I’d hoped. The Venus de Milo… wow! That’s a different story. I gave into the eyes of the statue, nearly feeling the life of the artist as he carved her out. In my mind’s eye, I see a time when she actually had arms: her right one across her torso and her left one holding up the modest cloth in front of her.

  As we exit the famed museum, Patrick takes my hand and leads me on a leisurely walk through the Jardin de Tulieres. There, the flowers bloom in sweet array around us, providing a bouquet of color for our jaunt. A mime dressed as Charlie Chaplin stands nearby entertaining visitors. I laugh when Celia and Jason join him by mimicking the famous silent star’s Little Tramp walk. Those two! Nice to see Jason enjoying himself and not being so pensive.

  The rest of our morning consists of a climb to the top of the Arc de Triumph. I totally block out the residual memories of Hitler and the German army standing under the arc, proclaiming victory in Paris. Squeezing my eyes shut, I don’t actually believe I see the tiny dictator. Rather, it’s just recorded memories of the event that are engrained in the fabric of the city. During this, I can’t help but feel like I’m being watched… monitored, almost. I flip my head around, looking for Anona. Then again, she told me she couldn’t come this far with me. Who knew ghosts had barriers?

  My mind wanders to Princess Di. Has she followed me over the English Channel? I can’t sense her near like I did when I was in London. What I can pick up, though, is that Oliver, Christian, and Jayne are across the river at a private gallery reading. Clearly, I can visualize Christian and his Ouija board sitting in front of a crowd of wide-eyed French people who’ve paid to see if the psychic can connect with their lost relatives. There’s Jayne, still glued to Christian’s side. And Oliver’s beaming pride in the front row as the audience claps along with Christian’s revelations.

  A tender hand on my shoulder knocks me back to where I am with my group. Celia’s eyes gentle toward mine. “You okay, Kendall? I asked if you wanted to go over to Notre Dame and you didn’t answer.”

  “Sorry, I was having a vision.”

  She winces. “Hmm, I don’t need to have your powers to know that Christian’s still up to his same old crap. Only a new audiences.”