Haunted Warrior (32 page)

“I know.” Kendra nodded, her stomach tightening as they approached the edge of the bluff. The way back down to Grath’s crumbling sea gate and its half arch would be worse than the climb up the cliff path.

But it wouldn’t be as awful as the certainty that she’d
made a terrible mistake. And it wasn’t getting naked and making love with Graeme in the ruined shell of a medieval tower. She’d wanted that and wouldn’t change a moment of the pleasure they’d shared. Whether he felt the same way or not, she believed they’d made magic together.

Their souls had joined, if only for those special moments.

None of that could ever be wrong.

What did bother her was keeping quiet about her work and Jock MacAllister. She should’ve told him right away, taking her chances on his reaction. Now it was too late. But she still had to tell him.

She just didn’t know how.

Several hours later, Kendra stood outside the Laughing Gull with a whirl of conflicting emotions churning inside her. Half of her dreaded the well-­meant queries she’d face upon entering the inn. Iain and Janet would want to know how she and Graeme had enjoyed the special, romantic packed lunch they’d prepared. The locals lining the bar would eye her curiously, wondering what else she and Graeme had done while at his ruined ancestral home.

It surely wasn’t a secret that his seals gathered in a cove right beneath the ancient walls of his family’s onetime stronghold. Everyone would put more meaning into the day’s outing.

And they’d be right.

The perceptive ones would see the truth all over her.

She didn’t need to be Scottish to know residents of teeny fishing villages had a knack for such things. That
particular trait was international, prevalent wherever small communities were found.

There was another reason she didn’t open the inn door right away.

The red phone box across the road stood empty. Yet she could feel the angry spirit energy simmering in the air around it. Her days in the village would end soon. Maybe within the next twenty-­four hours, if Zack called and discovered she was changing her mind about the reasons behind Scotland’s Past’s problems with their Pennard Project.

Now she wasn’t even sure she could help the preservation society.

Or if she should, knowing what she did.

If Graeme’s theory was correct, Gavin Ramsay was the villain in this piece. Not Jock MacAllister and his fellow herring fishermen, though they had seemed determined to speak to her.

They weren’t here now.

But she could feel the phone-­box ghost hovering near the red call box, glaring as always at the front windows of the Laughing Gull.

She now suspected she knew why. At least she believed she knew the ghost’s identity.

He was Dod Murray, Janet’s deceased husband.

And maybe she could do something for him.

Helping him would also take her mind off her own problems. So she took a deep breath and looked quickly up and down the road, making sure no one else was about. Then she went through her usual psychic self-­defense procedure, this time also asking her spirit guides to help make Dod Murray more receptive to her. If they were willing, of course. And as long as they did so in a way that wouldn’t harm Dod or any other entities lingering nearby.

Hoping she could reach him, she waited until she felt the familiar, tingling warmth of protective white-­light energy filling her. Then she silently whispered a few words of thanks before crossing the road to the spot where the phone-­box ghost always appeared.

He didn’t disappoint. He manifested immediately.

And he wasn’t pleased to see her.

“Fool woman!” He glowered at her from beneath heavy brows. “Too thrawn to see beyond her own nose, she is. Her stubbornness was aye—­”

“You don’t mean me, do you?” Kendra finally understood, wondering why it’d taken her so long to grasp that the ghost wasn’t staring at her, but looking through her. His fierce gaze and his rants were directed at someone inside the Laughing Gull Inn.

She had a good idea who kept him earthbound.

She decided to voice her concern. “You’re not railing at me, are you?”

“You?” He blinked, seeing her at last. “I’ve never seen you before in my life.” He peered sharply at her, speaking, as so many ghosts did, as if he still lived.

And so he did, in his own realm.

“I’m only here a short while.” The words split Kendra’s heart. “Even so, I thought we might speak before I leave. If it pleases you, that is.” She smiled at him, reaching to touch his work-­reddened hand. “You needn’t say another word if I’m bothering you. I’ll leave if you wish.”

“Leave?” He blinked again, looking perplexed. “How is it that you’re here? Speaking to me? No one ever does, no matter how long I stare, trying to get them to notice me.” He sounded sorrowful, grieved. “I doubt they ken I’m about.”

Kendra kept her hand on his, squeezing gently, letting her aura’s warmth boost his energy. “I’m able to see and speak with you and anyone who lives where you do. It’s
a gift, a blessing I’m grateful to have. If there’s anything troubling you, I will help if I can.

“Do you have a message for Janet?” She took a chance, hoping she was right. “Is that why you’re hanging around here, watching the inn?”

“You know me?” His blue eyes rounded in surprise.

“I think so.” Kendra held on to his hand, the sudden jolt in his energy encouraging her. “You’re Dod Murray, aren’t you?”

“That’s myself, sure enough!” His voice rose, lifting as if in pleasure to have heard someone say his name. “Dod Murray, fisherman. That’s me.

“And it’s not just the inn I watch.” He leaned toward her, his gaze flicking to a cottage two doors down from the Laughing Gull. “I keep an eye on thon house, as well.”

He meant Salt Barrel Cottage, the house Kendra knew belonged to Archie Dee, the small, weather-­faced man who walked about the village with his tiny, tricolored terrier, Charlie. She’d met the duo the first time Dod Murray appeared to her beside his phone box.

“Archie Dee and his wee dog, Charlie, live in the Salt Barrel.” The ghost straightened, frowning again. “Archie’s as big a fool as my Janet. The two of them—­”

“Are you angry at them?” A terrible suspicion rose in Kendra’s mind. “Is Archie interested in your wife? Is that why you’re so upset?”

“Pah!” His brows flew upward. “Does it rain in Scotland? Aye, to be sure, I’m riled. But not because Archie’s soft on Janet.” He flashed another look at the Salt Barrel, shaking his head when he turned back to her. “Janet’s keen on him, too. She has been for a while. The besotted woman thinks she’ll be disloyal to me if she gives in to her feelings. That’s what’s annoying me.

“I’ve been trying to tell her I don’t like seeing her alone.” He straightened his shoulders, appearing a bit
fierce again. “I looked after that woman right good all my days, making sure she never had a care in the world. Now she’s so full of worries, I fear she’ll explode from all the sorrow she keeps bottled inside her. And”—­he took a deep breath, clearly wanting to speak now he had a chance—­“my old mate Archie is no’ better!”

“He was your friend?” Kendra wasn’t surprised.

“He was, and a better man ne’er walked these parts.” He leaned close, and Kendra caught a whiff of sea and brine in his energy. “We fished, laughed, and sank pints together. He’d make Janet happy again, and many are the times I’ve tried to tell him so.

“But whenever I corner him and that wee dog of his, they walk through me as if I weren’t there. Charlie sees me right enough.” His brows snapped together. “It’s not like he can tell Archie.”

“I’ve met him.” Kendra recalled the little man’s jaunty step and friendly eyes. “I also know Janet. If you wish, I can speak to either of them, letting them know you’d like to see them together.”

“You’d do that?” Dod sounded surprised.

“Of course.” Kendra smiled. “I do such things all the time. It’s my work and something I’d help you with, anyway, because I like making people happy.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Dod’s eyes watered, and he looked again at the Salt Barrel. “Janet would be better off at Archie’s. His cottage is a right fine place, even fitted with a new kitchen she’d love. She mopes around our old house, fussing about memories.”

“Then I’ll let her know your feelings. I can assure her you won’t be upset if she starts a new life with Archie.” Kendra wasn’t sure how to approach Janet, but something would come to her.

It always did, even in the trickiest cases. She needed only some kind of toehold.

“Can you tell me something no one but you would know about Janet?” Such proof was often the only way to convince people she’d really spoken with their loved ones.

“Humph.” Dod scratched his chin, thinking.

“Anything at all,” Kendra encouraged. “But it must be significant enough to prove beyond doubt that my message comes from you.”

“I don’t know. This is so exciting, my mind’s gone blank.” He angled his head, still mulling. Then his eyes lit and he snapped his fingers. “I’ve got just the thing!” He looked so pleased, Kendra’s heart swelled. “Not a soul knows about this but me.”

“That should do it.” She nodded, happy for him.

“She won’t be pleased I told you.” But he hovered closer, whispering his proof in her ear.

“That’s perfect.” She couldn’t think of anything better. “It will work well, I’m sure.”

But before she could share her hope with the ghost, Dod Murray disappeared, his wet, yellow oilskin not leaving a single drop of water on the pavement.

His energy was also gone.

The thick air and ripples of agitation around the red phone box had been wiped away, leaving only the chill salt air blowing in off Pennard Bay.

Kendra doubted Dod would make a further appearance.

As often happened, she felt a twinge of sadness to see him go, though he’d surely visit Pennard now and then. He’d pop by family celebrations or important local events, as most ghosts were wont to do.

She hoped so.

She also had work to do. And she wanted to catch Janet as soon as possible. Dod Murray was a good man,
and she used the term with respect. He deserved her adherence to the promise she’d made him.

So she looked again up and down Harbour Street, relieved to see she was still alone. Then she crossed the road, leaving the red phone box behind her. Nothing waited there now except a few hungry seabirds hoping someone leaving the Laughing Gull with a takeaway fish supper might have a heart and toss them a few chips.

And if Zack called now—­he always trusted her, but did check on her progress every week or so, and such a call was about due—­she could truthfully say she was making headway here, helping soothe the village’s disgruntled spirits.

She just wished Jock MacAllister and his friends weren’t connected to Graeme.

But they were.

And that made her dread the work that yet stood before her.

As soon as Kendra stepped inside the inn, she knew something was wrong. No one was in the entry hall, so she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, trying to pick up the source of the unpleasant energy that had hit her like a solid wall the instant she’d opened the door. Whoever—­or
whatever
—­was responsible, the vibes were faintly familiar.

It was definitely an atmosphere imprint she recognized.

She just couldn’t place it, though she did know it wasn’t Gavin Ramsay.

The Laughing Gull felt clear of his residue.

“Worn out so early in the afternoon, are you?” Janet’s voice came from right beside her. “I’m not surprised.”

Kendra blinked, straightening. “You startled me.”

“And no wonder, dozing against the wall.” The older woman sniffed, once again clutching her broom. Only this time she looked as if she’d like to sweep Kendra out on the pavement rather than attack invisible dirt on the inn’s tidy, stone-­flagged floor.

Kendra took a breath, wishing her manners didn’t prevent her from brushing past Janet and heading up the stairs to her room.

But the woman had planted herself in front of her, barring the way. And the look she bent on Kendra made her feel like a bug pinned to a wall. Rarely had she felt so scrutinized, and so unfavorably.

Not to mention that Janet’s soured mood made it difficult to talk to her about ghosts, especially the spirit of her late husband.

Even so, she had to try. She met the older woman’s gaze, straightening her shoulders. “You’re right. I am tired. I was just going upstairs. But something crossed my mind, running into you, and I think I should tell you.”

“Is that so?” Janet arched her eyebrows, giving her a suspicious look. “I’ve work to do, so make it fast.”

“It won’t take long; don’t worry,” Kendra spoke softly, silently asking Raziel, Saami, and Ordo to help her find the right words. “I had a dream last night—­”

“Ach, I’ve no time for such drivel.” Janet glanced at the entry’s photo-­lined wall, ran her thumb along the edge of a wood-­framed picture. “I’ve work to do and—­”

Kendra cleared her throat. “I know you’re busy. Iain told me about your husband, Dod. My dream was about him. In it, he came to me, telling me something he wanted you to know. I normally wouldn’t mention such
a thing”—­she hesitated, lowering her voice—­“but the dream felt so real, I feel compelled to share it with you.”

Janet’s face closed, her expression tightening. “I stopped believing in dreams a long while ago.”

“What can it hurt to hear mine?” Kendra reached to gently touch her arm.

Janet sniffed. “I’ve a kettle of fish stew simmering in the kitchen. And”—­she flicked her broom at the baseboard—­“sweeping to do.”

“I know…” Kendra suspected Janet worked so hard to keep her mind off everything she’d lost and the happiness she refused to allow herself now.

“The man in my dream told me you were very happy together.” Kendra spoke in a rush, trusting her instinct, as she always did in such situations. “He told me to mention bog cotton.”

There: she’d caught Janet’s attention.

Kendra took three long breaths, readying herself to share the ghost’s message with Janet. Dod had revealed that they’d made love on the cliffs in their youth. Afterward, Janet had picked some of the delicate bog cotton growing where they’d lain. He said she’d sewn the snowy white blooms into a tiny silk pouch. And that since his passing, she’d worn the bog cotton pinned inside her clothes, near to her heart.