Ghost Walk

Ghost
Walk

Cassandra
Gannon

Text
copyright © 2016 Cassandra Gannon

Cover
Image copyright © 2016 Cassandra Gannon

All
Rights Reserved

Published
by Star Turtle Publishing

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Also by Cassandra Gannon

The Elemental Phases Series

Warrior from the Shadowland

Guardian of the Earth House

Exile in the Water Kingdom

Treasure of the Fire Kingdom

Queen of the Magnetland

Magic of the Wood House

Coming Soon
: Destiny of
the Time House

A Kinda Fairytale Series

Wicked Ugly Bad

Beast in Shining Armor

Coming Soon
: Happily
Ever Witch

Other Books

Love in the Time of Zombies

Not Another Vampire Book

Vampire Charming

Cowboy from the Future

Once Upon a Caveman

Ghost Walk

If you enjoy Cassandra’s books, you
may also enjoy books by her sister, Elizabeth Gannon.

The Consortium of Chaos series

Yesterday’s Heroes

The Son of Sun and Sand

The Guy Your Friends Warned You About

Electrical Hazard

The Only Fish in the Sea

Coming Soon:
Not
Currently Evil

The Mad Scientist’s Guide to Dating

Other books

The Snow Queen

Travels with a Fairytale Monster

Everyone Hates Fairytale Pirates

Coming Soon:
Captive of
a Fairytale Barbarian

Coming… Eventually
: The
Man Who Beat-Up Prince Charming

For
Mom

And
vacationing at Williamsburg on the 4
^th
of July.

4
^th
of July- One Year Ago

The
alleyway was a gory mess.

At
this point in her career, Grace Rivera had learned to block out the full horror
of it, but she still felt a surge of sadness for the poor woman lying on the
pavement.  The girl was young, with stringy blonde hair and three piercings in
each ear.  Given her revealing clothes and the location of her body, it seemed
likely she worked as a prostitute and had met up with the wrong man.  Still Grace
took her death as seriously as she would’ve the mayor’s.

As
a crime scene technician it was Grace’s job to collect whatever evidence the
murderer had left behind.  Fibers, fingerprints, blood, and a thousand other
small things that even the smartest perpetrators missed.  All of it was
cataloged and analyzed in hopes of it leading back to those who stole the lives
of others.  Very often it did.  Grace was good at her job and she took it
seriously.

Some
people said
too
seriously.

They
were probably right.  But, the poor woman on the ground, with the two bullet
holes in her head, was counting on her.  Just like all the other victims whose
cases Grace investigated.  She didn’t want to let them down… Except, she always
felt as if she already had.  They were gone and she couldn’t help them.

Couldn’t
save
them.

To
make up for it, Grace did everything she could, every single day, whether she
was investigating a dead hooker in an alleyway or a wealthy businessman from
Richmond.  She studied and worked and did her best to ensure that they received
at least some form of justice.  She never stopped.  Never took a moment to
relax.  Never
breathed
.

Touching
the darkness, with no light to balance it out, was too much for her.  At least,
that’s what they said later.  Grace had always been a glass-is-half-empty sort
of girl.  All that pessimism overwhelmed her.  If you stared too long into the
abyss, the damn thing would start to stare back.

Being
a savior to the whole world was impossible.  It got harder and harder for Grace
to recall that her job was really about helping people.  About stopping killers
from striking again, and bringing comfort to the families left behind.  All she
saw were the victims she
didn’t
save.  The futile, hopeless, failure of
it all.  Somewhere along the way, her positivity and optimism disappeared.

Until
one day --inevitably-- the darkness swallowed her.

She’d
pushed herself too hard.  Everyone would tsk about it after her breakdown.  It
was no wonder she burned out, really.  But, who could’ve predicted that even a
Rivera would snap so completely?

On
that 4
^th
of July morning, Grace lost her mind in front of half the
police force.

It
started with a torn glove.  Just a tiny rip in the latex that exposed Grace’s
fingertip.  She was so focused on her job that she didn’t notice.  Not at
first, anyway.  She went about her business, gathering up the shattered bits of
evidence.  A few stray hairs…  Glass from a broken beer bottle…  A cigarette
butt… Maybe it belonged to the killer.  More likely it belonged to any of a
dozen people who had frequented the alley in the last month or two.  Still, it
all had to be checked.  No detail was too small in forensic work.  The key to
solving the entire puzzle could literally be a grain of sand.

Grace
meticulously sorted through the dirt and debris littering the asphalt, finally
coming to a flyer for a local band called “Cornelius and the Monkey-Men.”  They
had apparently played at the bar next door on July third.  The
Planet of the
Apes
inspired font promised an incredible one night only concert.

Grace
wasn’t sorry that she missed it.

All
she cared about was the single drop of blood on the blue paper.  The speck was
so small most people wouldn’t even have noticed it.  The page must have gotten
wet in the storm the night before, because the ink was running.  It was
crumpled and at least twelve feet from the body.  A less experienced technician
might have overlooked it entirely.  But, Grace was
very
good at her job.

That
didn’t mean she couldn’t make a mistake, though.

She
snapped some photos and picked up the flyer to put into an evidence bag.  When
she did, the pad of her thumb inadvertently brushed against the dried blood
drop.  For the first time in her career, Grace’s bare skin touched the blood
evidence she was examining.

As
soon as she did, it started raining.

It
happened so suddenly that she didn’t process what was happening for several
precious seconds.  Water poured down, not like the beginning of a shower, but
like it had been storming for hours.

Grace
frowned in confusion and looked up at the sky.  What the hell…?  How did the
rain blow in so quickly?  It was even blocking out the sun!  The alley was
abruptly dark, making it seem as if night had fallen in the middle of the day. 
In fact, was that the
moon? 
Why was the moon out at two in the
afternoon?

She
got to her feet, her mind racing.  “Guys, are you seeing this…?”  Her voice
trailed off in surprise as she realized that the rest of the investigative team
was gone. 
Gone.
  Grace’s head whipped around, her heart pounding.  She
was standing there all by herself.

No. 
Correction: 
Not
by herself.

Despite
the rain and rancid smell, two people were using the dark alleyway for a
convenient place to have sex.  Grace goggled at them for a beat, her hand
coming up to slap over her mouth in shock.  Jesus, what was
happening?
 
She quickly turned her back on the grunting duo, trying to think.

She’d
always been a cotton-underwear-buying, never-skipping-work,
two-coats-of-clear-nail-polish kinda girl.  Practical. 
Normal
.  Saving
for retirement and watching the news at six every night.  Despite her eccentric
family and their endless search for “troll powder,” Grace dealt with everything
that came her way with a healthy dose of logic.  So why was she
completely
lost
as to what was going on?  Why couldn’t she think of one rational
explanation for why her colleagues disappeared, or why the moon had risen, or
why two strangers were copulating behind her?

And
what the
hell
was that noise?

It
sounded like someone in the bar next door was shrieking into a microphone to a
thrash rock beat.  Except this song
had
no beat, so it was just
discordant wailing.  Even her cousin Halcyon had better taste in music and he
mainly listened to the “hidden messages” in TV static.  How was she supposed to
think of a logical explanation for this craziness when she couldn’t hear
herself think?

Grace
staggered to the entrance of the alleyway, peering up and down the street. 
Cars whizzed past, but very few would stop in this part of town.  Should she
try to flag someone down?  Should she just drive to the police station and ask
where everyone went?

She
looked closer.  Well, scratch that idea.  Her car wasn’t there anymore, so she
wouldn’t be driving anyplace.  She’d parked the beige four-door in front of the
bar and now a black jeep was in the space.  Had someone stolen it?  If they
did, they must have taken the ambulance and three police cruisers, too.  None
of the vehicles were in sight.  It was as if no one but Grace had arrived at
the crime scene.

Grace
found she couldn’t breathe.  It was like oxygen refused to fill her lungs.  She
bent over at the waist, her hands braced on her knees and tried to calm down. 
It was alright.  She would figure this out.  There had to be a reason for all
of it.  She just needed to focus on something calming and not panic.

Her
mind settled on the lush fields of her parents’ farm.  Before they died, they’d
owned two hundred acres of rich Virginia soil.  Growing up, she’d spent her
days running through the tall stalks of corn.  The smell of the earth, and the
vivid green of the plants, and the absolute security of her parents’ love. 
Nothing since had ever made her feel so safe.

Think
about those peaceful green cornfields.

The
music from the bar reached unbearable levels and Grace’s frantic brain seized
on a target for her terror.  The “singer” was screeching about chimpanzees of
all things.  She couldn’t deal with a song about chimpanzees.  She couldn’t
think
when he was screaming about chimpanzees.  God, if their idea of music was
chimpanzees and the same two notes on an electric guitar played over and over
and
over
again, they all must be drinking more than just…

Wait
a second.

Chimpanzees?

Grace
looked down at the band flyer which was still clutched in her hand.  The words
couldn’t have been clearer, even in the dim light.  “Cornelius and the Monkey-Men. 
Appearing one night only!  July third.”

Yesterday.

A
slimy, hot/cold ball began to form in her stomach.

Running
a hand through her drenched hair, Grace marched over the entrance of the bar. 
“Hey!”  She stalked up to the bouncer, who happened to be a massive guy in a
GNR shirt, reading Dickens.  “Is that Cornelius and the Monkey-Men in there?” 
She gestured to the open door and the grimy interior beyond.

Oliver
Twist pointed to the marquee without looking up from his book.  “That’s what
the sign says.  Five dollar cover, lady.”

“They
were supposed to be here
yesterday
, though.”  She held up the flier, her
hands shaking from the cold rain and her strained nerves.  “See?  One night
only.  It says so right here.”

The
bouncer flicked her a bored look.  “Yeah and
tonight’s
the one night. 
You wanna see the band or not?”

Grace
shook her head.  “No, I don’t want to see them!  I
can’t
see them.  July
third
was the one night they played!”

“What
are you high or something?  It
is
July third”

“Today’s
the
fourth
.”

The
guy was apparently used to dealing with lunatics.  Rolling his eyes, he pulled
his cellphone from his pocket and held up the illuminated screen.  “See?”  He
gestured to the date in the corner.  “The third.  The holiday’s tomorrow, but I
guess you started celebrating a little early, huh?”  He arched a brow.  “Now,
are you gonna pay to come inside or are ya just going home to sleep it off? 
‘Cause you can’t stand here and listen to the band for free.”

Grace
stared at the glowing numbers on screen, not even processing his words.  It was
impossible.  He must have rigged the phone with the wrong date somehow.  He was
trying to trick her.  Trying to make her
think
it was still the night
before.

Why
would he do that, though?

What
could his motivation possibly be?  She’d never met this man before.  Why would
he waste his time on such a useless prank?  And where had the sun gone?  And
her car?  And the rest of crime scene guys, police, and reporters?  And there
had been a rainstorm last night…

The
gunshots interrupted her spiraling thoughts.

Even
over the terrible, pulsating music, she heard the unmistakable sound of a
weapon firing twice in quick succession.  Grace’s head snapped around just in
time to see a male figure fleeing the alleyway.  He was running too fast for
her to get a good look at him, but she still knew exactly what had happened.

“Call
911!”  Grace screamed to the bouncer and raced back the way she’d come.  “
No!
” 
She saw the woman’s body on the ground, precisely the way it had looked when
she arrived at the crime scene two hours before.  “No, no, no.”  She dropped to
her knees beside the victim and quickly took stock of the situation.  There was
nowhere to apply pressure and no way to administer aid.  Grace tried, but it
was hopeless.  The girl had been shot twice in the face.  She was dead.

Again.

It
was the same woman.  Grace knew it.  Only her body was still warm and the blood
pouring out of her was fresh.  Grace couldn’t explain it, but she knew it was
true.

Somehow
she’d been zapped back to the time of this woman’s murder.

Not
that she’d done her much good. The woman had been killed all over again while Grace
stood five yards away.  If only she’d known what was about to happen she
could’ve helped the girl.  Could’ve stopped this.  Could’ve…

Just
as suddenly as the weirdness started, it was over.

Between
one blink and the next, everything went back to normal.  The sun was back in
the sky, the rain was gone, and Grace was surrounded by her colleagues.  It was
as if the universe took back its do over and just plopped Grace right back
where she’d started.  …Or maybe it had never happened, at all.  Yeah, that was
it.  It had been some kind of hallucination, brought on by the July heat and
fumes from some leaky gas line in the neighborhood.

Except,
if it was all in her head, why was she still soaking wet from the storm?