Ghost Walk (27 page)

“Ummm…” 
She looked around, trying to remember.  Had she dropped it in all the
historical debris?  Everything was happening so fast that…

Robert
hit her.

Grace
fell to the floor, her ears ringing.  Whether that was because she’d just been
punched in the jaw or because Jamie’s enraged roar was bouncing off the walls
at about a million decibels was anyone’s guess.  Dots flashed in front of her
eyes, as she tried to focus.  Robert had just hit her!  No one had ever hit
Grace before.  Her mind was lagging a bit, trying to decide on a course of
action through the pain.

Robert
was on her before something brilliant came to mind.  His body pressed hers into
the floor, preventing her from getting free.  His stubby fingers ripped at her
tour guide outfit, tearing open the Velcro fastenings.

Panic
hit Grace with the force of a Mack truck, drowning out everything else. 
“Jamie!”  She had no idea what he could do to save her, but calling for him was
instinctive.

“Who
the hell is this
Jamie?
”  Robert demanded, giving her a vicious shake. 
“Are you cheating on me?  Huh?”

“I’m
here, lass.”  Jamie dropped to his knees next to her.  “Grace, look at me! 
Stay calm and look at me!”

She
turned her head so she could see him, trying not to sob.

“I’m
here.”  It was amazing he could keep his voice so calm, when she could see the
wildness in his eyes.  “I’m right here.  Can you use that menstrual cramp
spell, again?

She
tried to call on either of the spells she knew, but she was too scared to
concentrate on the incantations.  Robert was trying to get his pants unzipped
and she was about to lose it completely.  She shook her head, tears spilling
down her cheeks.  “Jamie, please help me.”  It wasn’t fair to ask him, but she
couldn’t think straight.

“
Fuck!
” 
He looked around and she could see him trying to come with a plan.  He might
have been a lackluster pirate when it came to bloodshed, but all the history
books agreed he was a genius as improving attacks.  “Alright.”  His face was
tortured, but his mind was still in gear.  “Alright.  I know what to do.  Put
your hand where mine is.”  He flattened his palm on the edge of one of the
boxes beside them.

Grace
instantly did has he asked.  She stopped trying to push Robert away and placed
her fingers over Jamie’s instead.

“Good. 
Now, when he’s above you, pulled it down onto to his head.”

The
container was made of wood, so it weighed a ton.  That plan might just work. 
Grace seized onto it, because what else could she do?  She grabbed hold of box’s
lip and nodded.  “Okay.”  She swallowed hard.  “Okay, I can do this.”

“Damn
right you can.”  Robert sneered.  He fumbled with her skirts, leaning over
her.  “You’re going to give me everything I…”

Grace
yanked at the box with all her might.  The heavy wooden crate slammed into his
skull, sending him sideways.  It didn’t knock him out, but it did get him off
of her.  Mostly.  She pulled herself backwards along the floor, trying to
escape the rest of his weight.

“Get
up!”  Jamie yelled.  “Get up and run!”

Blood
was pouring down Robert’s temple.  “I’m going to kill you!”  He screamed,
reaching for her again.

Grace’s
palm came down on fabric.

Something
had come free when the wooden box fell.  Something lace.  Her gaze went down to
it, her lips parting in amazement.  The shawl.  They’d found it!  And just as
the rumors said, it was splattered with dark spots that could only be Clara
Vance’s blood.

“Jesus,
Mary, and Joseph…”  Jamie whispered, seeing it too and knowing what it was.

Grace
smiled at him, knowing they’d just won.

Robert
reached for her, intent on causing as much pain as possible.  Before he could
make contact, though, she slammed her palm down onto one of the blood stains,
which looked a heck of a lot like a thumbprint.  Her hand fisted around the
fabric, holding tight.

And
just like that she was free.

It
was really kinda awesome and a totally victory for the white hats.  All around
her, the basement disappeared and she was catapulted into the past.  There was
nothing Robert could do to stop her.  Nothing at all.  She and Jamie had just
swept the field or whatever the hell pirates did when they totally kicked ass.

Grace
gave an exultant laugh.  Victory was soooo sweet!

Her
elated feeling lasted right up until the moment she and the shawl landed in
1789… just in time for the witch trial.

June
27, 1789- Clara Vance was jabbering on about those fortunetelling Riveras again
and how the Reverend wanted to run them out of town.  It was all I could do not
to tell her that her sainted father and I have explored the wages of sin behind
his pulpit, just to see the look on her face.  I only allowed him to touch me,
because I knew it would just
kill
Mother and Father if they ever learned
of it, of course.  Still, I was surprised at how enjoyable it was!  For a man
who preaches against wickedness, the good Reverend surely does engage in some
deliciously twisted activities.

From
the Journal of Miss Lucinda Wentworth

Jamie
hated killing people.

Usually,
he tried to avoid it at all costs.  It seemed that July 4
^th
1789 was
the day he was about break his own rules, though.  He was mad enough to shoot
every single citizen of Harrisonburg without a flicker of remorse.

No
one
touched his woman.

“Am
I the
only
one who understands this is the Age of Enlightenment?” 
Grace’s voice rang out above the angry shouts of the crowd.  “You can’t
do
this!  There’s no such thing as witches!  You’re supposed to know that by now!”

“Quiet,
witch!”  Clara Vance screeched with all the zealotry in her shriveled soul.  “We
all saw you vanish into the ether last Wednesday.  You disappeared, right from
this very spot, and now you returned…”

“Because
this stupid tree is bad luck.”  Grace interrupted and Jamie could tell she was
pointing up at the gnarled oak that loomed over the street like tombstone.  For
some reason, it had always given him a chill to look at it.  “I’m sure of it.  I
can’t wait until that lightning strike burns it down.”

Clara
kept talking, pretending she didn’t hear Grace’s complaints.  “…And now you’ve
returned to our righteous town to spread your poison.  Do you think the good
citizens of Harrisonburg will allow that?  No!  We will
stop
you right
now, Devil Woman!”

Dozens
of voices shouted their agreement.

“We’ll
stop you, Devil!”  Gregory Maxwell echoed.

Anabel’s
brother never had an original thought in his head, so he made do with
paraphrasing the idiots around him.  The man was literally and unequivocally
the stupidest man in town.  It was no wonder Lucinda had laughed uproariously
at all his attempts to call on her.  She would have been better off with an
orangutan as a suitor.  At least their primitive ideas were their own.

“You
morons will lynch anyone who stands still long enough!”  Grace yelled back at
him.

Gregory
frowned, puzzled by her words.  He was puzzled over a neighborly greeting of “How
do you do?” though, so it was no surprise that Grace’s bizarre future-isms had
him perplexed.

“You
won’t ruin our Independence Day celebration!”  Clara sounded jubilant now.  Bolstered
by the mob’s support, she was basking in the glow of finally being the center
of attention.  “We will stop you, Satan Spawn!”

The
crowd cheered.

Clara
beamed out at them from her position on the bed of a hay wagon.  She’d climbed
up there to be seen and she was getting her wish.  For a moment, Jamie thought
she might take a little bow.

“You
know what?  If there
were
witches in this world, they would have totally
cured Methyn’s Syndrome!”  Grace informed the mass of nitwits gathered to kill
her.  “Which I’m
sure
was a terrible, horrible, skin melting-ish
disease.  So you guys should be
thanking
them.”

“She’s
threatening to melt our skin!”  Clara shrieked.  “You all heard her!”

Gregory
jammed a fist in the air.  “Skin melting!”  He bellowed, with no deeper
meaning.  The man had the attention span of a hyperactive puppy, so it was
wonder he hadn’t gone chasing after a leaf in the breeze by now.

Eugenia
Wentworth staggered backwards, fanning herself like she was about to faint
again.  “Oh mercy!  Skin melting!  Someone do something!”

“We
have to burn her!”  Clara’s frenzy was reaching its crescendo.  “We have to
burn her
now!
”

“Burn
her!”  Gregory screamed and --stupid or not-- half the crowd was with him.

“I
can’t
believe
I’m actually trying to help you, you sanctimonious
airhead!”  Grace shouted at Clara.  “If I wasn’t afraid of getting your stupid
blood on me, I would have knocked you out by now!”

Jamie
could see her now, standing on the wooden sidewalk by the tree.  Ned Hunnicutt
was holding her arms, preventing her from escaping.  Damn it, Jamie should have
killed that ass when he’d had the chance.

Grace
jerked against his grip, trying to get free.  “Look, I am having a real bad
afternoon and you nuts are not frigging helping with this revisionist history
crap!  Nobody burned witches in Virginia!”

Give
the number of torches being lit, she was clearly wrong about that.

“Oh
God.”  Grace’s eyes went wide at the sight of flames coming towards her. 
“Jamie.  Jamie.  Jamie.  Jamie.  Jamie.”  She chanted his name like a prayer,
ignoring the odd looks Eugenia and Ned sent her.

Jamie’s
heart turned over in his chest.  No one but Grace would ever call on him for
help.  It was humbling.

He
shoved his way through the final throng of people that had gathered outside The
Raven.  “Clara Vance!”  He bellowed, trying to get her attention before she incinerated
the love of his life.  “You have something of mine and I’ll be having her back.” 
And just in case she wasn’t inclined to listen to his reasonable request, he
leveled a flintlock pistol at her bonneted head.  “Immediately.”

This
time, he’d felt Grace arrive in Harrisonburg.

He’d
been on the
Sea Serpent
, contemplating getting rip-roaring drunk to
block out the pain of knowing Grace was beyond his reach.  Then that twinkle of
knowing he’d been born with lit up like that evening’s fireworks display. 
Somehow he’d
known
she was back.  When he’d gone looking for her, though,
he’d found Grace right in the middle of an execution.  It seemed she’d had done
her magical appearing trick right in front of a meeting of Clara and her
fanatics.

No
doubt about it, Jamie much preferred it when she popped up in his bath.

Grace’s
face lit up when she saw him standing in front of her.  “Jamie.”  She breathed. 
She tried to move towards him, but Ned yanked her back.

Yeah,
Jamie
really
should have killed him.

Clara’s
beady eyes narrowed, not appreciating the fact that he’d interrupted her moment
in the sun.  “Not even you would shoot a God-fearing lady, right in the center
of town, Captain Riordan.”  She decided, trying to gauge his resolve.  “Your
own father was a minister.”

“That
he was, but I never much liked the man.”  Jamie arched a brow at her.  “Sorry
to say, I donea much like you either, Miss Clara.”

She
gasped like he’d somehow insulted her feelings.  “When my father comes back
from Richmond, I’m going to tell him you said that!”

“Tell
him!  Tell him!”  Gregory urged.

“Jamie’s
right.”  Grace snapped.  “No
way
are you smart enough to write
Horror
in Harrisonburg
.  …Which was an awesome book, even if it was filled with
lies.”

Jamie
and Gregory both squinted at her., wondering what the hell that meant.

Edward
Hunnicutt took a threatening step forward, dragging Grace with him.  Unlike
Clara, he was more offended by the pistol than Jamie’s insults.  “You good for
nothing pirate!  You wouldn’t dare hurt any of the honorable residents of…”

Jamie
switched the muzzle in his direction, cutting off his bluster.  “
You
I
can shoot even easier than her, Ned.  Trust me.  You donea want to test what I’ll
dare to reclaim my bride. 
Let her go
.  This is the last time I’m
warning ya.”

“You
can’t kill all of us!”  Clara pronounced grandly, refusing to give up the stage. 
“There’s only one round in that pistol.”

“True,
but I can
definitely
kill Ned.”  Jamie assured her.  “I’ll bet I can
hurry and get off a shot at you, as well.  That will be quite satisfying. 
Possibly enough to make the whole effort worthwhile.”

“Goddamn
pirate.”  Ned muttered, but he wasn’t looking so confident anymore.

Jamie
bit back a smirk.  Talking had won him more engagements than arms ever would.  …Which
was lucky, since the pistol in his hand wasn’t even loaded.  He hadn’t had time
to get fresh powder before wading into the fray.  Grace had needed his help and
it didn’t seem the pack of assassins was inclined to wait for him to ready his
weapon.  Of course, none of that was going to slow Jamie down.  Not with his whole
future at stake.

“I’ve
also got three cannons on my ship, all of them aimed this way.”  He pointed
towards the harbor with his free hand and hoped to hell no one called his bluff. 
“I can reduce this town to rubble at any moment, with the whole lot of you standing
in it.”  His voice got hard.  “And I bloody well
will
unless I have my
woman back in my arms
right fucking now!
”

Most
of the mob took off, rather than be in the line of fire.  Gregory --who’d never
been the “Hero of Yorktown,” regardless of what he liked to boast in taverns--
ran the fastest of everyone.

Jamie
met Grace’s amazed eyes and gave her a quick wink.  That had been even easier
than he thought.  It went to show what a grand pirate he was.  Reputation took
over where reality left off.

Eugenia’s
lips pressed together in starchy disproval at his language and crossed her arms
over her chest.  Unlike so many others, Sunday school teachers didn’t scare
easy.  Certainly, she looked less frightened than Clara and Ned.

Ned
glanced towards the
Sea Serpent
, then at Jamie, and then back again.  He
believed Jamie’s lie.  Why wouldn’t he?  Jamie was the worst pirate in
Virginia.  He worked damn hard to ensure that everyone knew that and his
(slightly exaggerated) infamy was paying off in spades.

With
no other option to save his skin, Ned shoved Grace forward.  “Take the witch,
if you want her so bad.  Be my guest, Riordan.  As long as she’s with you, it’s
your
soul she’ll be trying to steal.”

She
already owned his soul.

“Come
here, Grace.”  He held out a hand to her and she hurried over to take it. 
“Stay behind me, lass.”  He didn’t let out an easy breath until he felt her palm
in his and that magical energy of hers playing over his skin.

Jesus,
Mary, and Joseph, he couldn’t let the woman out of his sight for a second.

“I
am really, really glad to see you.”  She whispered fiercely, gripping his
fingers tight.  She bent down to grab a soiled shawl with her free hand.  “Like
really
glad.  You and my Aunt Serenity were totally right about the
witch burnings, even though you
shouldn’t
have been right.”  She was
talking too fast, riding high on emotions.  “Do you think that you were
remembering things that hadn’t happened yet?  Or just --like-- getting a vibe
of it?  Do you think that’s possible?”

Jamie
understood approximately three words in that rush of question.  “With you
around, I think anything is possible.”  He said honestly.

Grace
smiled.  She leaned against him like she needed comfort and, for some reason
known only to Grace and the Almighty, she’d chosen Jamie Riordan to give it to
her.  His eyes closed briefly, his chin resting on the top of her head.  The
woman was a gift, in every possible way.

“This
is the second time today you saved my life.”  She whispered against his
shoulder.  “Thank you.”

Jamie
was fairly certain he’d remember rescuing her at another point that afternoon. 
“I take it the other rescue was performed by the illustrious future-me?”  He
guessed quietly, holding her tight with his free arm.

She
nodded and pulled back to meet his eyes.  “My ex-boyfriend…”  She paused, as if
trying to find a word he would understand.  “Ex-beau?  Ex-guy-who-courted-me? 
Anyway he attacked me and you helped me get away.”

Jamie
glanced at her sharply, taking in the darkening bruise on her jaw.  “Did I kill
him?”

“No!”

“Why
the hell not?”  He truly needed to kill more people when the opportunity
presented itself.  This business of trying to save the lives of assholes was a
bloody nuisance.

“We’ll
talk about it later, alright?  Just give me the gun.”  Recovering from her
distress, she reached for the pistol and he gave it to her.  “No offence, but
we both know you’re not going to shoot Clara.  Your gentlemanly impulses are
going to get in the way of this plan.”  She was the first person to ever see
through his façade, because she was the only one who’d ever known him.  “Don’t
worry.  
I’m
not going to have that issue.”

“You
plan to murder the girl?”  Somehow he doubted it.  But, maybe he should warn
her the gun was empty, just in case.