The Harbinger

by Wendy Wang

  The Harbinger

  Wendy Wang

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Author Notes

  Copy right

  Copyright © 2018 by Wendy Wang

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Created with Vellum

  For my own little Coven who supports me through thick and thin and preorder deadlines - Paula, Helen, Gwen, Vicki, RA and MK. Love you all, Witches!

  Chapter 1

  There wasn’t a cloud in the bright, blue sky when Charlie Payne shifted in her lounge chair. The strong June sun shone down, burning the tops of her feet, so she curled her legs up, drawing her pink painted toes beneath the shade of the large red umbrella towering over her chair. She dropped her book onto her lap and took a deep breath of warm sea air. She loved beach days. They were a rare treat lately with her busy work schedule, making time for Evan, her psychic readings and helping Lieutenant Jason Tate on missing person cases.

  A high-pitched half-scream, half-laugh pierced the roar of the ocean, and a smile tugged at Charlie’s lips as she watched her eleven-year-old boy boogie boarding in the surf with their six-year-old cousin Ruby. A prickle of intuition in her stomach caught her off guard as Evan flipped off his board and stood up in the surf. A wave broke around the backs of his legs but he didn’t buckle against its force. The grin he’d been wearing since they’d arrived a couple of hours ago morphed into a grimace. Charlie sat up straight in her chair.

  “Evan,” she called over the rumbling of the waves and wind. Maybe the boy had been stung by a jelly-fish. The cloudy pink and brown floating blobs tended to wash up on shore this time of year. She’d been stung many times as a child just playing in the surf. “Evan, are you all right?”

  Her cousin Jen stirred on a lounge chair just out of the umbrella’s shadow. Jen pushed up on her elbows and then lay flat again as if remembering she’d untied the strings of her bikini to avoid tan lines. Quickly she retied the strings and pushed up from her stomach to sitting.

  “What’s going on?” she asked in a groggy voice, rearranging the triangles of black and white fabric to make sure her small breasts were fully covered.

  “Not sure.” Charlie hopped to her feet. Every hair on the back of her neck stood at attention when she stepped out of the shadow of the umbrella and into the hot sunlight. She waved her arm to get her son's attention but he didn’t seem to see her. His unbroken gaze was centered on something else on shore. Charlie followed his line of sight. A trickle of sweat traced its way down her spine and she shivered despite the eighty-five-degree heat.

  A dark shadowy form moved along the edge of the water. It had no shape but flickered in and out, the way a bad television signal did. Charlie’s feet started to move before she could even engage her brain. By the time she was halfway between their spot on the beach and the water the spirit had taken form.

  "Jen," Charlie called over her shoulder, her voice strident. "Do you see it?" She didn't wait for her cousin's response. Instead she picked up her pace and used her long legs to their full advantage. Evan stood frozen in the water, a look of terror in his blue eyes. Charlie walked past the apparition of the woman, pretending not to see her, waving her arm.

  "Evan! Ruby! It’s time to get out of the water."

  Ruby ignored Charlie and tried to ride another wave. The spirit floated over the water, moving closer to the children. Her body was almost opaque and she no longer had a shadowy quality. If the spirit hadn’t been hovering, Charlie might have mistaken it as a strangely dressed beach goer on a hot Saturday afternoon in June, but the dark energy emanating from the spirit galvanized Charlie from the inside out.

  Every nerve in her body cried out, “Danger! Danger! Danger!”

  Charlie waded into the water, slogging through the fast-coming waves that splashed against her shins. "Evan Lucas Carver! Get out of the water right this minute."

  The sound of his full name shook him from his stupor and Evan turned his gaze to his mother. Confusion filled his tanned face. He started out of the water, stopping only to gather Ruby, kicking in protest, and her boogie board.

  "Mom?" Panic fluttered in his voice.

  "It’s okay.” Charlie called up a soothing smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it go away.” Evan’s gaze flitted toward the spirit and a storm of fear crossed his handsome features.

  “It’s okay, sweetie.” Charlie brushed her knuckles over his cheek and he locked eyes on her face.

  Evan set Ruby down and grabbed her free hand. His gaze flitted to the spirit and back to his cousin. “Come on, Ruby, let’s go.”

  Ruby jerked her little hand out of his and gave him a pouty stare. She whined, “I don’t wanna go. Please Charlie?”

  Charlie opened her mouth, trying to find the right words. Ruby’s innate magical talent had shown itself early, but to Charlie’s knowledge, she’d never been one to see spirits. She didn’t want to scare the girl. Jen’s voice carried over the roar of the waves and wind, calling the children out of the water.

  Charlie raised her eyebrows and gave Ruby a pointed look. “Your mama’s calling. You better go on now.”

  Ruby pressed her lips together and narrowed her wide, blue eyes into a death stare. The image of Ruby as a teenager, full of defiance flashed through Charlie’s head while she watched the little girl wade forward, sullen and dragging one corner of her boogie board across the ripples of water and white foam.

  Evan grabbed Charlie’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “Be careful, Mom.”

  “I will, baby. Go on now,” she said. Evan had shown signs of being sensitive since he was very young but it had intensified in the last year. He’d had dreams that had come true. But seeing spirits? The idea that he’d inherited that particular “gift” made her feel sick. She watched the two children hurry toward Jen who was standing halfway between the lounge chairs and the water, shielding her eyes with her hand. Charlie gave her cousin a reassuring wave, took a deep breath and headed toward the spirit, taking care to avoid an incoming wave and negotiating the shifting sand beneath her feet.

  As Charlie approached, the spirit sank into the water up to her ghostly knees. Her long, flowing blue dress floated in the shallow surf. In her hands she held a large square of lace and her ghostly fingers worried over one frayed corner. Charlie pressed her hand against her belly, quelling her nerves.

  "Hello there."

  The spirit turned to face her. In life she must've been stunning. The spirit’s pale blonde hair was swept up into an elegant bun at the base of her head but tendrils of loose curls blew around her shoulders. Sharp green eyes stared at Charlie and she had a quizzical look on her face. The way the spirit held her bow-like mouth, Charlie could tell this was a woman used to getting her way. Even in death.

  "Hello," the spirit said with caution. "I didn’t see anyone else
on the beach today. I'm looking for a ship. Have you seen a ship in the distance?"

  "No.” Charlie shook her head. “I haven’t seen any ships today."

  The spirit’s skin shimmered and her forehead wrinkled. A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth and she made a huffing sound in the back of her throat before she shifted her gaze back to the horizon. Charlie drew closer.

  "I’m Charlie.” She moved directly beside the spirit and turned to face the water too. Thankfully it was not too rough of a day for the waves. "What's your name?"

  "I’m Vanessa." The spirit’s voice whispered across Charlie causing the skin of her arms and back to break into goose bumps. She wasn’t sure which was more dangerous in this case — staring directly at the spirit or not looking at it head on.

  “I’ve been waiting for days and days. Papa says I shouldn’t worry, but he doesn’t understand.”

  Charlie shifted her gaze to the horizon but still watched the spirit from the corner of her eye. It seemed the safest choice.

  “Understand what?” Charlie prodded lightly.

  “I see things. Know things that others don’t.” Vanessa wrung the lace in her hands. “Do you know what I mean?”

  An icy finger touched Charlie’s heart and she nodded. “Yes, I do know.”

  “It makes it hard not to worry.” Vanessa stared out blankly over the water. In the distance thunder rumbled and Charlie noticed gray clouds gathering on the horizon. She fought the urge to run. To scoop up her son, Ruby and her cousin Jen and get the hell out of town for the next week or two. Something inside her wouldn’t let her leave, though.

  “What did you see?” Charlie asked, but she already knew the answer. It was how the myth surrounding this particular spirit was born.

  Vanessa Carnahan had been the daughter of a wealthy merchant in Charleston. She had been beautiful but was known to be eccentric and moody. Charlie had always suspected that the woman had been psychic in life.

  "I saw my fiancé’s ship tossed on powerful waves.” Her high voice sounded distant and other-worldly as she recalled her long ago vision. “He’s on a trip for my father you see. France. He’s going to bring me back something special. But I just can’t get that image out of my head.”

  The spirit let out a shuddery sigh.

  Charlie’s stomach tightened into a knot. “Did you see it sink?”

  The spirit’s head jerked in an odd way and her pale eyes glowed unnaturally, her stare boring into Charlie.

  "No!" The ghost shook her head. “I refuse to believe it.”

  “I know this story.” Charlie’s voice shook. “My cousins and I used to scare each other with it any time a tropical storm or hurricane came this way.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Vanessa bristled.

  “Your fiancé died in a storm over a hundred and sixty years ago,” Charlie said.

  “No.” Vanessa’s pale face darkened with anger. She twisted the ring on her left hand. “That’s not true. It can’t be. He said he’d return to me. He promised.”

  “I’m so sorry but it’s true. And you … your grief is legendary.”

  “What?” Vanessa’s voice softened, sounding like a scared child. “What do you mean?”

  “When you learned he had died, you were overcome. Legend is you walked into the ocean in your wedding dress and drowned yourself,” Charlie said. Her heart ached for this spirit who could not let go of this world, or her sadness, even now. “I can help if you let me. I help people like you find peace.”

  "No. No. No. You’re a lying … witch!” Vanessa gritted her teeth, and her pale, mournful face shimmered. The bright sunny day vanished and the light changed to drab flat, gray. Charlie noticed the clouds had advanced quickly. A cool sprinkle of raindrops fell, their ripples joining the shin-deep water.

  “I can see you,” Vanessa said. “I can see right through you. You should keep your own house in order before judging mine. Otherwise, it could all disappear in a storm.”

  The words ‘just like mine’ hung on the air between them, remaining unsaid but felt. The hair on Charlie’s arms rose and thunder rumbled closer.

  “Please Vanessa,” Charlie said. “Let me help you. Aren’t you tired of being stuck here all alone? Waiting?”

  Vanessa’s face melted into tears and she opened her mouth. A high-pitch shriek surged from her open maw, piercing through the wind. Charlie’s bones and teeth ached from the vibration and she covered her ears, trying to block the sound. When the wailing stopped, the spirit charged at Charlie, leaving her no time to react. A sharp, icy pain stabbed through Charlie’s chest with enough force to knock her off balance. She fell backwards into an oncoming wave and for a moment she was pulled underwater. The undertow yanked her down, deeper into the surf. Her knuckles scraped over the sandy bottom and she struggled against the vacuum effect of the retreating wave. Unable to breathe, her lungs burned and she kicked her feet, finally breaking through the churning surface. She coughed and spit up the sharp, salty water. Her lungs expanded with several breaths and she headed back to shore, letting the next wave carry her.

  “Mom!” Evan splashed into the surf and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her forward. The water receded, leaving her on the sand, coughing. Evan slapped her on the back. Jen knelt in front of her.

  “Come on. A wave’s coming. Can you walk?” Jen asked.

  Charlie nodded and let her son help her to her feet. The three of them headed across the sand to Ruby who was standing next to two folded lounge chairs and the closed umbrella. Charlie’s canvas tote was slung over the tiny girl’s shoulder. The concern on Ruby’s face seemed at odds with the bright pink beach towel wrapped around her shoulders.

  “Mom, what happened? Is everything okay?" Evan asked.

  "Everything's just fine, baby,” Charlie said leaning on him. She looked squarely at her cousin. “We should go, though."

  "Absolutely. You sure you’re okay?" Jen asked.

  "I'm sure.” Charlie gave her cousin a reassuring smile then threw a glance over her shoulder. Darker clouds hung on the horizon. The wind kicked up and the waves churned. Charlie fought the shudder threatening to course through her. “We need to get out of here. There’s definitely a storm brewing.”

  Jen nodded and picked up her chair.

  Charlie swallowed back her unease and painted a smile across her face. She grabbed her umbrella and chair. "So who wants ice cream? My treat."

  The sound of her son’s scream pulled her out of her dream and Charlie almost fell out of bed. The hardwood floor felt cold against the bottoms of her bare feet as adrenaline coursed through her bloodstream. She rounded the small space between their two bedrooms and flipped on his wall light. Evan was sitting up and staring at the footboard of his bed.

  "What happened, sweetie? Did you have a nightmare?" Charlie asked.

  She was plagued with nightmares and did not find it unreasonable that she may also have passed a tendency for bad dreams on to her son. The way she had passed on her blonde hair and, especially after the day’s events, her unusual sensitivities to the world around them.

  "There was a chicken in here!" he said running his fingers through his short blond hair. His eyes darted as if he were trying to look everywhere at once. "I know I wasn't dreaming it."

  Charlie glanced around the room. "You must've scared it when you screamed."

  "Mom, why is there a chicken in the house?"

  Charlie sat on the edge of his bed and sighed. "Do you remember a couple months ago when all of Ruby's chickens got killed?"

  He nodded. "Yeah."

  "Well one of them decided it didn't want to move on. She's been hanging around the cottage ever since."

  Evan grimaced. "Mom, that's creepy."

  "Yes, it is sometimes. I just can't figure out how to help the poor little thing. It's not exactly like I speak chicken."

  "You are so weird," Evan said burying his face in his hands. "Can't you just open the door and shoo her out, like a …”
he paused, his lips twisting with disgust, “like a live chicken?"

  "No, it doesn't really work that way. And she's kind’ve gotten me out of a couple of tight spots so I'm not really in a rush to get rid of her. I figure she’ll pass on when she's ready," Charlie said studying her son’s worried face. "So you wanna tell me what really woke you up? I don't think it was the chicken."

  Evan’s shoulders heaved up and down as he took two deep breaths. "I had a dream about that girl. The one we saw on the beach."

  "I'm sorry, sweetie. You know I said we didn't have to talk about it until you were ready but I think maybe we need to. I think that's the only way that you're going to find any sort of comfort or peace." Charlie placed her hands on his leg and gave it a squeeze.

  Evan’s fingers worried over a loose thread on the quilt. "How old were you? The first time you saw a ghost."

  Charlie stilled his hand. She had hoped that they would never have to have this conversation. Wasn't it enough that he had inherited her ability to sometimes sense the future? Did he really have to be plagued with seeing the dead as well? It didn't seem fair. Some part of her wished that he had inherited his father's stubborn ability to ignore things even when they stared him in the face.

  "I was a little younger than Ruby," she said.

  "And you weren't scared?" He looked up at her and there was something in his face that needed her to tell him ghosts weren't scary. Just like she had been unable to tell him that monsters weren't real when he was little, she wanted more than anything to tell him not to be afraid. That all spirits were lost in their own way and deserved their pity. And most did. But some … some should be treated with caution. Some were downright dangerous.