Ghosts of Coronado Bay (9 page)

“Lucy, I’m telling you, he just appeared like some kind of dark prince to save the day. If Gavin hadn’t been there, I don’t know what Stuart would have done to me.”

Maya’s homework sat unopened on her desk, as it had for the past hour. She knew it meant another late night of hitting the books, but really, who could expect her to concentrate on her schoolwork after what happened? She’d been too tense, too worked up, and too excited to even think about history or science. So instead, she’d grabbed a handful of cookies and run upstairs to call Lucy. Texting was out of the question - she’d end up with carpal tunnel before finishing her story. Maybe once she talked everything out, got it out of her system, she’d be able to concentrate.

Maybe.

So far, that theory hadn’t worked. Lucy kept asking for more details, and Maya found herself reliving Stuart’s quasi-attack and Gavin’s sexy rescue over and over.

“I can’t believe you didn’t let him walk you home,” Lucy said, her voice equal parts teasing recrimination and envy.

“Yeah, right. After what happened the last time? I think it’ll be awhile before I spend any time alone with Mister Grabby Hands, no matter how hot he...he is,” she finished lamely.

Lucy didn’t miss her hesitation. “How hot he is, or how hot he makes you?”

Maya didn’t answer. She didn’t want to admit the truth of it, to herself or Lucy.

“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue? Or maybe you’re thinking of where that tongue--”

“Okay, Lucy, that’s enough. I gotta go. For real this time. Homework calls.”

Maya punched the disconnect button on her cell, cutting Lucy off in mid-protest. Not that she’d be insulted. She got a kick out of seeing how far she could push Maya.

Probably spend half the night thinking of new ways to embarrass me tomorrow.

Normally the prospect of enduring Lucy’s one-track teasing would have had Maya thinking of ways to avoid it - usually by giving her the silent treatment - but the way she felt at the moment, she could fail a pop quiz in every class tomorrow while the whole school made fun of her, without coming down from her cloud.

“Gotta concentrate,” she whispered to the empty room. She flipped open her history book, but it only took a few seconds before the lines of text blurred and all she saw was Gavin’s face and tall, lithe body. Already her imagination was changing the events of that evening. In her mind, Gavin emerged from a cloud of fog, his black coat whipping behind him with primal fury as he strode towards her, one side of his mouth tipped up in a sultry half-smile that begged to be kissed.

“Maya.” Hearing her name from his lips sent chills down her back, and it took her a moment to realize she wasn’t imagining it.

“Maya. May I come in?”

“Yes.” The word was already leaving her mouth as she turned and saw Blake sitting on her windowsill.

He climbed in and stood up. “Maya, we need to talk. There’s something--”

“Shut up.” Maya didn’t know which of them she surprised more by grabbing him and pressing her lips against his. For a moment he stood still as a statue, then his arms went around her, and he angled his face without breaking contact.

Maya shivered as the chill emanating from his lips, hands, and body covered her from three directions at once. Rather than putting out the fire raging inside her, it served as cold fuel, each tingling wave heightening the sensations she felt.

Still locked in their kiss, she pulled him towards her bed and let her body fall backwards onto the comforter, dragging him along with her. Stuffed animals and pillows toppled to the floor as they rolled back and forth, taking turns on top. His hands drew frigid trails down her back and sides and her palms felt like ice from holding tightly to him. She gasped when icy fingers crept under her shirt and bra, but didn’t even think of telling Blake to stop.

Until two of those fingers opened the button of her shorts.

“Please, don’t.” Misty vapor formed as her breath flowed over Blake’s otherworldly form.

“Don’t fight it, Maya, it’s for the best.” His hand slid further down, and suddenly it was like a glass of cold water on her hormones.

“Dammit, I said no!” She pushed away from him, feeling an eerie déjà vu. What was it about her bed that turned nice guys into dogs? Was it always going to be like this?

“You need to have sex, Maya. Right away.” Blake’s expression was serious and clinical, as if he’d just told her she needed to take her vitamins every day and drink plenty of water.

“Oh, really? Well, I’ve got news for you. I decide what I need, and when I need it. And the last thing I want from you right now is sex.”

Instead of being angry, Blake nodded. “Okay. It doesn’t have to be me. It can be anyone. Your ex-boyfriend. Someone from school. Anyone except Gavin--”

“All right, that’s enough. Get out.” Maya couldn’t believe it. Blake was jealous of Gavin! He must have seen the two of them together, maybe even earlier that night.

Oh, God, is that the only reason he came here?

“But Maya, you don’t understand. Just let me--”

“I said out, Blake. Now. Scram. Make like an egg, and beat it.” She leaned forward and pushed him, sent him flying off the bed. “I mean it. Get the hell out of my room.”

This time he did look angry, but unlike Gavin the day before, he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he went to the window and climbed out. As soon as he disappeared, Maya shut and locked it. She had no idea if a ghost could move through walls, but if nothing else, it would send a message that she didn’t want him coming back.

Her hands trembled as she buttoned her shorts and straightened her shirt. She picked up her history book again but had even less success than before trying to concentrate.

Dammit to Hell!

The book hit the wall across the room, and Maya threw herself down on the bed, beat at the pillows and comforter with her fists until her arms ached. When she sat up, sweaty and flushed, instead of feeling better for having released her pent up frustrations, she felt more charged up than before if that were possible.

Maybe I should have...

No. That’s just the hormones talking. You’ll know when it’s the right time. And, this wasn’t it.

Unfortunately, knowing she’d done the right thing didn’t make her feel any better.

Downstairs, a door slammed. Her mother, home from work.

I can’t let her see me like this.

She grabbed her pajamas and ran for the bathroom, hoping a nice, cool shower would calm her down and clear her head.

If not, it’s gonna be a long, long night.

“Girl, you look like a reject from a bad zombie movie.”

Maya didn’t bother acknowledging Lucy’s comment as the two friends took seats next to each other in homeroom. She knew exactly how bad she looked. She hadn’t fallen asleep until well after three. She didn’t even remember hitting the snooze button and going back to sleep when her alarm went off at six-fifteen. If her mother hadn’t come in and woken her at twenty to seven, she’d probably still be in dreamland. As it was, she’d had just enough time to run a brush through her hair and throw some clothes on. Everything else would have to wait until after class.

Not one to accept silence, Lucy gave her a poke with the eraser end of her pencil. “What’s the deal? Late night? Who was it, Gavin or Blake? Give me the juicy, girl.”

Thinking about both boys made Maya groan. “Ugh. I don’t want to talk about either of them right now. I overslept thanks to the two of them being jerks. Look at me. No makeup, no lipstick, not even any blush or cover-up. Geez, the boys’ll be lining up to ask me to the dance now, huh?”

“All guys are jerks. But don’t worry. We’ll fix you up after first period. I always have my emergency make-up kit in my bag. Besides, it’s not your face that’s gonna keep the guys away.”

Something in Lucy’s voice caught Maya’s attention, even through her fog of exhaustion. “What do you mean?”

“I was gonna tell you after class, but I guess I don’t have to worry about ruining your morning now. It’s Stuart.”

Jerk number three. Naturally. “Oh, no. What’s he done now?”

Lucy shook her head. Her black hair, cut in a bob this month, swished back and forth. “You’re not gonna believe it. He’s been spreading the word that if anyone asks you to the dance, he’ll personally rearrange their body parts.”

Maya felt her face tighten. “Tell me you’re joking.”

Behind her rose-colored eye shadow, Lucy’s eyes held equal amounts of compassion and sympathetic outrage. “I wish. Oakley told me on the way to school. Seems your ex is mounting a major campaign to keep you boy-free for the foreseeable future.”

“That son-of-a-”

“Class, please put your books under your desks, and take out your pencils and calculators. We’re having a little quiz.”

A chorus of groans followed Mr. Rollo’s announcement. Lucy’s was the loudest. “I can’t believe it. A pop quiz in chemistry? Who does that?”

Maya put her head on the desk. “Could this day get any worse?”

*  *  *

Gavin Hamlin stood in a storeroom in the museum’s basement, his attention focused on the young woman who was opening boxes with an odd triangular blade and sorting the contents on a long table. She’d caught his attention the moment she’d entered the building, thanks to the Virgin-a-Teens button pinned to her shirt. He’d followed her into the basement, a plan already forming in his mind for testing Anton’s theory about virgin blood. After waiting several minutes to make sure no one would be joining her, he’d moved close to her, so close she’d shivered and rubbed her arms.

You think you’re cold now, he thought, watching the gooseflesh rise on her skin. Wait until I can really touch you.

His plan was a simple one. He’d known for some time that unlike his fellow ghosts, he had the ability to actually affect what happened around him in the real world by causing episodes of electrical energy, usually fueled by intense emotion. Whether these derived from his own forceful personality or his years of practicing magik, he had no idea. But it was time to put them to good use.

Just as he would for a spell, he focused his concentration, putting all his effort into it, until it felt like his head would explode. He let his anger and frustration at being dead and denied his ultimate goal fuel him, build up inside him until it felt like he couldn’t contain it any longer.

Just when he reached the point where his brain threatened to explode, he released the energy one massive surge, keeping his eyes on the girl’s hands. The lights flickered momentarily, but better than that, one of her hands jerked as she opened a box.

The hand holding the small knife.

“Ow!” The girl held up her other hand. A tiny cut on her thumb bled a few ruby-red drops.

Yes! Gavin leaned forward, extended an incorporeal hand out, and touched his fingers to the droplets.

And felt the girl’s warm skin.

Knowing his slight solidity wouldn’t last long, he grabbed the knife from her. It passed partway through his hand, but not all the way. Lifting it, he swung it as fast as he could.

The girl never had time to scream as the blade sliced through her throat. Blood sprayed out onto Gavin’s flesh, and he felt himself grow more solid. He brought his arm back, cutting deeper into the muscles and tendons of her neck. This time a fountain of blood exploded over him. Dropping the knife, he scooped handfuls of her blood and smeared it on himself, reveling in the hot, sticky liquid. In moments, he was nearly as solid as a living person.

Now, to find the key. Gavin grabbed the knife and ran up the stairs to the main floor. Even in his haste, he spared some of his attention to being physically part of the real world again. Colors seemed brighter; and when he took a deep breath, he was able to smell odors again - metal and dust and leather and a thousand other scents. The dead girl’s blood was cold and tacky against his skin, and he loved it.

Although he’d been prepared to use the knife on anyone he saw, Gavin found the Black Lady’s exhibit room empty. He immediately began searching through any items where a key might have been hidden, tossing the objects to the floor as he finished with them. As he raced against time, he grew more frustrated, throwing utensils and tools across the room and cursing Fate for sending the ship to the ocean’s bottom in the first place.

He’d gone through the contents of an entire table when suddenly his hand passed through a broken jewelry box in the middle of picking it up.

“NO!” he cried, as the box tumbled to the table. “No! I’m not finished!”

All through the museum, light bulbs exploded as excess energy coursed through them. Thunder boomed over Coronado Bay and lightning flashed even though there were no clouds. In the buildings on either side of the museum, the power went out for several minutes.

Gavin’s furious shrieking continued, but by then no humans could hear him.

“But Mom, it’s just for a couple of hours. I have to go.” Maya hoped her inflection was just right, not too whiny, showing just the perfect amount of urgency.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Emily Blair said. “You can study at home. I don’t want you running around town while there’s a murderer on the loose.”

Since its discovery earlier in the afternoon, the dead girl’s body had been the primary topic of conversation at school and in town. She’d been a senior at Boston College, working part-time at the museum for an internship. Like all small towns, news in Coronado Bay traveled faster by mouth than by radio or TV, although media types from as far away as New York City had already converged on the museum, eager to tell the world the story of the “shocking murder in the small seaside village.”

“I won’t be running around town. I’ll be at the library with Lucy. I have to do research for a school project.”

“Tell Lucy to come here. You can check the books out or use the damn Internet for something other than games and gossip.” Emily Blair’s voice was edging towards finality, and Maya knew she only had one more chance to change her mother’s mind.

“We can’t, Mom. The books we need are reference books, and you can’t check them out of the library.”

Mrs. Blair’s eyes narrowed. Maya held her breath. After what seemed like forever, her mother sighed; Maya knew she’d won.

“Fine. But I will drive you there myself. And, when you’re done, you go straight from the library to the diner.”

“I promise!” Maya gave her mother a quick kiss and ran upstairs to call Lucy before her mother could change her mind.

*  *  *

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” Lucy Patton stared at the pile of books on the table and grimaced. “You know Thursday nights are for Beverly Hills Cheerleader and Vampire Princess.”

“You’ll be home in plenty of time to see them,” Maya said, flipping pages in one of the massive books. She was searching for any information she could find about the Black Lady and its disastrous trip. It would have been easier just to go back to the museum, but they’d closed the place indefinitely because of the murder. Besides, she had no desire for Blake to find her researching his history.

“I better be. Everyone at school’s gonna be talking about them tomorrow; if I haven’t seen them, I’ll be sooo pissed.”

“You have my word. We’ll be out of here before seven.” Maya closed the book and grabbed another. She purposely didn’t mention that the library closed at seven. “Sooner, if you start helping me.”

“The things I do for you.” Lucy opened a book and started reading.

Once Lucy stopped complaining, Maya lost track of time as she read through one tome after another, seeking out any mention of the Black Lady. Most of the books were historical treatises about New England’s shipping industry, but a few were actual port logs, containing manifest records and details of ships leaving and entering Coronado Bay’s harbor.

Around them, the library was a vast cave perpetually cloaked in twilight, the only sounds the muted echoes of whispered voices or soft footsteps. Once, someone several racks away dropped a book to the floor, and Maya jumped in her seat.

“This place is totally creepy,” Lucy said, even her usual animated personality muted by the oppressive atmosphere.

“Mmm-hmm.” Maya barely heard her. She’d caught the words Black Lady as she skimmed pages. The mention turned out to be a list of port entries from Manhattan, dated 1908.

“Lucy! Look at this!”

Someone shushed her from a nearby table, and Maya lowered her voice. “This is it. The Black Lady. Left Manhattan in 1908, heading for Boston. It’s the ship’s manifest, I think.”

“What’d they have? Gold? Jewels?” Lucy leaned forward, a hint of interest on her face.

“I haven’t found that yet. But here’s the crew. And the captain, Jonas Freeman. And passengers. Oh, crap. Look.” Maya pointed to a name.

“Gavin Hamlin of Boston Towne? Isn’t that the name of the guy you met? Some coincidence.”

“Yeah.” Maya’s stomach turned over as the significance of finding Gavin’s name struck her.

The clothes. The formal way he acted.

His cold hands.

Oh, crap. I’m an idiot. He’s a ghost, just like Blake. They were on the boat together, even if Blake’s name isn’t on the manifest. That means they know each other.

“Maybe he’s a relative,” Lucy said. “That’s why he’s doing research at the museum. You should ask him next time you see him.”

“I’ll do that.” Maya stood up. “I’m going to make photocopies of these entries. Be right back.”

The copy machine was sequestered in a small alcove away from the main reading room, so as not to disturb anyone. On her way there, she noticed all the other patrons had left, leaving her and Lucy alone. As Maya walked down the aisle, a book fell over on one of the shelves with a soft thump, and her heart jumped a beat in response. All of a sudden, the library didn’t seem so safe. Just the opposite, in fact. The lights seemed too murky, and the shadows too sinister. The murder at the museum fresh in her memory, Maya quickened her pace, but the click-clack of her heels on the granite floor only added to the nervous feeling growing in her chest.

An overhead light flickered, sending the aisle into momentary darkness. In that brief second, a chill breeze brushed across her back. Goosebumps sprouted on her arms. She emerged from the aisle and welcomed the slightly brighter glow emanating from the copier alcove ahead of her.

Thirty feet, she told herself. Nothing can happen in thirty feet.

But that wasn’t true, was it? All sorts of things could happen, especially in a dark, empty room filled with hiding places. Against her will, her thoughts returned to the girl at the museum. She’d been alone in a room, too, and someone had slit her throat. Then her killer had walked down the hall and up the stairs, leaving a trail of blood the whole time, as if he didn’t care in the least about getting caught.

Up the stairs and into the Black Lady exhibit.

That’s where they’d found the last of the footprints and handprints. Whoever had killed the poor girl had trashed the exhibit and then escaped without being seen.

As if he’d disappeared.

Like a ghost.

More cold air washed over her, and she wrapped her arms around herself, clutching the heavy book to her chest. Halfway to the alcove. With each step, her mind continued down lines of thought she didn’t want to consider.

Why didn’t I notice he was a ghost?

Because you were so moon-eyed over him you wouldn’t have noticed if he carried a butcher knife and had a white hockey mask hanging from his belt.

Was he the killer? He did have a temper.

So does Blake. Could he be the killer?

How well do they know each other? Could they be in on it together?

How could either of them have done it? They can only be solid around me.

Of course, how do I know that’s true? I only knew one ghost before this. Maybe they’re all different.

Five steps away. Three. The idea of reaching the alcove seemed like the most important thing in the world.

Two.

“Maya.”

She gasped at the sound of someone speaking her name, then realized it was only Lucy.

“Oh, hell, you scared the crap out of me.”

“Yeah.” Lucy smiled. “Gotcha. Told you this place is major creepy. I stuck the other books on a returns cart. Let’s make your copies and get out of here. You can treat me to a piece of pie before you start your shift.”

Maya dropped a quarter into the machine with a shaking hand.

“You’ve got a deal.”

*  *  *

Several aisles away, Gavin Hamlin stood in the shadows, watching as Maya and her friend finished what they were doing and headed for the front of the library. Although he’d been afraid to approach too close, lest Maya’s ability make him visible to her, he’d managed to catch part of their conversation, enough to know they’d discovered something about the Black Lady.

“Why didn’cha just kill her?” Anton asked from behind him. All the remaining sailors from the Black Lady had gathered with him, in the hope that Gavin would find a way to slice the girl open and use her blood to set them free.

“I need a weapon, something to make her bleed.”

“You could have dropped books on her noggin’ ‘til she bled.”

He shook his head. “Her friend was too close. She would have seen.”

“We could have killed them both.”

Gavin turned to Anton, his dark eyes colder than the ocean depths. “You idiot. It’s only Maya who gives us shape and weight. To the other you’d be nothing but cold air. She would have had plenty of time to escape before we drew any blood.”

He gave them time to realize the logic of his words then continued. “When the time is right, when she is alone, that is when I will take her life.”

“You’d best do it soon. The deadline approaches.”

“I’m well aware of the deadline, Mister Childs. Over a hundred years I’ve waited. I won’t let this opportunity pass. I will kill the girl.

“And her blood will be mine.”

*  *  *

Thanks to the murder, business was slow at the diner - for a Thursday night, at least. The majority of the regulars showed up, mostly single men and women and older couples who preferred eating out to staying home alone, all of them going on and on about the killing, picking at each tiny detail like crows feasting on a highway carcass, until there was nothing left. Then, as people in a small town are wont to do, they began adding their own details, until a casual listener might have been excused for thinking a full-scale massacre had occurred.

But not many families came in, and those that did ate quickly and hurried home. By the time nine o’clock rolled around, only a handful of people remained seated at the counter, and all the tables and booths were empty. Maya’s father told her she could go home early, as long as Manny Esposito, a heavily-muscled teenager who doubled as a dishwasher and kitchen assistant, walked her home. Eager to leave, Maya accepted without an argument.

Once she was safely locked in the house and had called her parents to let them know, she poured herself a glass of ice tea and brought it to her room where she opened her laptop.

And yelped in surprise when she saw a face reflected in the screen.

Turning, she found Gavin Hamlin standing by her closet door, looking as cruelly handsome as ever. He wore the same clothes as before, only now Maya understood why. As a ghost, he could never change them.

“Hello, Maya. I am sorry for startling you. But I had to see you again.”

He stepped into the meager light from her desk lamp, and as it illuminated him better, Maya felt a small measure of relief when she saw his clothes were free of any blood stains. No one could have killed that woman without getting tons of blood on them. That, along with the fact that she had never heard of anyone besides herself who could make ghosts solid, convinced her Gavin couldn’t have done it.

It has nothing to do with how hot he looks.

She chose to ignore that last thought.

“It’s not nice to break into people’s houses.” She tried to put some anger into her voice, but even she could hear how weak it sounded.

His smile grew wider, more arrogant, and she knew he’d seen through her pretense, as well. “I didn’t break in.”

“Right. You drifted in, or floated, or passed through the window. Whatever it is you ghosts do.”

Maya took some pleasure in seeing Gavin’s self-confident grin fall away. She had a feeling he was a hard person to surprise.

“What? How did--”

“How did I know? I saw your name on the Black Lady’s passenger list. I should have guessed sooner, from the clothes and the way you talk.”

He sat down on her bed, eyeing her in a new way. Almost as if he was really seeing her for the first time.

“And this doesn’t frighten you?”

Now it was Maya’s turn to smile. “Why should it? I’ve known all my life that I can see ghosts, that the closer they are to me the more solid they become. That I can talk to them, even feel them. So, how many of you are there?”

“Ghosts?”

She laughed. “No, silly. People from the Black Lady. How many of you are hanging around the museum?” A sudden thought struck her. “Were you there when the girl got killed? Did you see who did it?”

A strange expression crossed Gavin’s aristocratic face and then was gone in an instant. He shook his head. “Sadly, I did not see the events that took place this afternoon. I was...exploring the town. I spend much of my time doing that, since there is so little else to occupy my days and nights. When I returned to the museum, the police had already taken the body away.”

“You make it sound like you hate being at the museum.”

“I don’t enjoy being around reminders of my own death.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought about it that way.” Maya found herself moving toward him before she even considered what she was doing. As if it were her body, not her mind, that decided to get up and sit next to Gavin on the bed.

“Your body is smarter than you,” she imagined Lucy telling her.

Maya placed her hand on Gavin’s, felt a chill run through her at the feel of his cold flesh, a chill that quickly turned to quivers of excitement as he leaned forward and kissed her. It was like kissing someone on a cold winter night, or after sucking on an ice cube, except that the other person’s lips never warmed up. She moved closer and his arms went around her. His tongue met hers, ice to her fire, and she marveled at how different his kisses were than Blake’s or Stuart’s. Forceful and confident, just like his personality, as if he knew he was good at what he was doing. Was proud of it.

Maybe Lucy’s right. I should date more people. Does everyone kiss differently? Are there people out there who are better at it than even Gavin or Blake? Or is it the thrill of kissing someone not human that I get off on?

Before she could ponder the answer to her last thought, Gavin’s hand slipped beneath her shirt, his palm icy against the flesh of her stomach. She twitched slightly, but didn’t break the kiss.