Ghouls, Ghouls, Ghouls (19 page)

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Authors: Victoria Laurie

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General

BOOK: Ghouls, Ghouls, Ghouls
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I shrugged. “I’m not sure. But something’s tugging me there.”
Heath tucked one of the canisters under his arm before closing his hand over my wrist and moving the flashlight up the stairs. We were about three-quarters of the way up, and nerve-rackingly close to the phantom’s territory.
No dark shadows presented themselves, and although the edges of my senses were picking up the uncomfortable feeling of being near the phantom, I didn’t feel that it was about to attack us.
Of course, I hadn’t truly sensed that it was about to attack me the last time either.
“Your call,” Heath said, nodding his head toward the door.
I took a deep breath and edged my way to the entrance of the crypts. The door was heavy and difficult to pull open, but with little more than a loud nerve-jarring screech, it allowed us to pass through it.
We stood in the dark entrance for a few beats, waiting, listening, and feeling the ether.
“Someone’s here,” I whispered, sensing the telltale signs of a spook nearby.
“Yep.”
I quickly turned off the flashlight and got my camera back out. Flipping it on, I held it up to eye level before clearing my throat and saying, “Hello?”
“Bonsoir,”
said a very soft voice, and Heath and I both jumped.
But I saw no one either with my naked eye or through the view screen. “Hello?” I said again.
“Ah-lo?” a male voice replied.
“I think it’s Bouvet!” Heath whispered excitedly in my ear.
“Oui,”
said the voice.
“C’est moi.”
My eyes widened. The voice was disconnected but clear, and I waved the camera around, trying to find a shadow or form to which it might belong.
“
Bonsoir
, Monsieur Bouvet,” Heath said. “
Je m’appelle
Heath.”
My eyebrows rose and I turned to him. “You speak French?”
“That’s all I know.”
There was a chuckle and the hair on my arms prickled. “Ah-lo, Heath,” said the voice with a heavy French accent. “Perhaps you will assist me?”
I smiled wide. We definitely had Bouvet!
“Certainly, sir,” said Heath. “And maybe you can help us too?”
“But of course! I am looking for
mes amis
. Have you seen zem?”
“No,” Heath said. “We just got here a little while ago, Mr. Bouvet. And we haven’t seen anyone else but you.”
I squinted at the view screen.
And I wish we could actually see you,
I thought.
“Zey are supposed to help me with za lid. It is most ’eavy, you know. Perhaps you might be of some assistance?”
“Sure,” Heath offered. “What lid is it that you need help with?”
There was a pause, and I wondered if we’d lost Bouvet. “Ah, zere you are!” he exclaimed suddenly before switching back to French.
“Oh là! Tu m’as apporté un cadeau? Encore un de tes trésors merveilleux de l’Amérique du Sud, il paraît. C’est un vrai honneur que tu me fais là, mon vieux, et je vais l’ouvrir sur-le-champ!”
“What’s he saying?” I whispered.
“I don’t have a clue,” Heath whispered back.
Bouvet’s tone was casual and lighthearted, but I was worried. Something about the energy around us had shifted, and I thought that maybe the spirit of Gaston Bouvet had moved away from conversing with Heath and me to enter the memory of what had happened to him in the moments leading up to his death.
“Oh, but of course,
mon ami
!” he said, switching partially back to English. “But first you must ’elp me with ze lid!” Bouvet chuckled, as if he was still engaged in conversation with someone other than us.
“Qu’est-ce?”
he added, as if someone had just said something he didn’t quite hear. After a moment he said, “Oh, very well!
Un, deux, trois!
”
There was a popping noise ... a bit of a pause ... then the most terrified scream I’d ever heard. I jumped back against the wall, shocked and scared down to my toes as I also heard frantic footsteps racing along the stone while that scream went on, and on.
In the next instant there was a rush of wind as something whizzed right past me, and footsteps continued to sound out the doorway and up the stairs.
“What the hell?”
I heard Heath gasp.
My fist clutched my grenade, and my shaking fingers poised themselves on the edge of the lid. For a few seconds I considered popping the top and unleashing the spike, but then I realized that although I was scared, I wasn’t actually sensing the phantom approach ... yet.
“Time to go,” Heath’s ragged voice whispered in the dark. He clicked his flashlight on, and in the dim light I could see that he looked as scared as I felt.
“I’m right behind you,” I told him.
We left the tunnel leading to the crypts and hustled down the stairs. From the top of the rock we could still hear snatches of Bouvet’s terrified screams. His reliving what I suspected was an encounter with the phantom had elicited other spirits to stir in the night. More than once I heard Kincaid shout out for Alex, and eerily, I also heard a man with a thick Irish brogue shout,
“It’s after me! Get away with you! Get away!”
“That’s gotta be the coast guard officer,” Heath called over his shoulder as we raced down the stairs.
I mentally agreed but was too busy focusing on the sounds in the night and keeping my footing to reply. What I didn’t tell Heath was that I was also listening for Gopher’s voice. If he had been killed, I suspected I might hear it mixed in with the other victims of the phantom.
But no sound or sign of him came to my senses. “I just want off this damn rock!” I swore as we neared the bottom.
Heath cleared the last step, pausing briefly to catch his breath and wait for me. I joined him and he reached for my hand. Together we ran to the causeway.
I took a step onto the cobblestones, feeling a wash of relief to be so close to leaving this cursed place, when an agonized cry descended from high above, followed by a sickening
WHUMP
somewhere behind me near the base of the cliffs. A flurry of shivers shot up my spine.
Heath and I both froze midstep. I swallowed hard and tried to resist the urge to look behind me. “Sweet Jesus!” I gasped. “Please don’t tell me that was what I think it was!”
And then, we both heard Kincaid’s voice scream,
“Allllllllllllllex!”
followed by another
WHUMP
.
I thought I was going to be physically ill, and I did actually begin to wretch and gag. I staggered forward onto the causeway, dizzy with the horror playing out in the ether, and nearly stumbled right over the side and into the water.
Heath’s hand caught my shoulder, keeping me on the cobblestones, but my knees gave out and I started to sink down. I felt his strong arm sweep under my back while his other arm moved under my knees, and before I knew it, he had swept me off my feet and was carrying me quickly over the wet stones.
Only then did I realize I was crying.
I clutched his coat and wept, trying to still the flash of memories of Kincaid falling off the cliff. Hearing the sound of him hitting the rocks was almost more than I could bear.
He and Bouvet were reliving those terrifying moments before their deaths over and over again, and
no
soul deserves such torture. “We ... have ... to ... help them!” I sobbed.
Heath came to an abrupt stop, his breathing labored. He squeezed me tight and lowered his head to my shoulder. “Yes,” he whispered. “But not tonight.”
I hugged him fiercely and tried to collect myself. “I’m okay,” I said after a bit.
He set me down and took my hand again. We didn’t waste any more time hustling our butts back across the causeway.
 
We arrived at the B&B only to find the lights still out. The two of us made our way to the sitting room, which was surprisingly warm and cozy by the fire. Heath sank onto the couch and stared a little forlornly at the fire.
I shrugged out of my coat, kicked off my shoes, and was taken by how handsome his face was in the glow of the fire. I moved to the cushion next to him, and ran a finger along his black silky hair.
He turned to me and our eyes locked, and I wondered why I’d ever thought I could resist the attraction I had to this man.
He didn’t try to kiss me; he just waited for me to decide. I hesitated only a second or two, wondering where my true feelings were amid all the chaos of the last few days. And then, I realized I really, really,
really
wanted to kiss him; so I leaned in and touched my lips to his, and it was like opening a release valve. All that fear and adrenaline and awfulness that he and I had so recently witnessed melted away and a wave of passion flooded between us.
It wasn’t long before our clothes came off and we moved it upstairs.
 
The next morning I woke with Heath’s naked warmth curled around me. For a few heartbeats I felt content and happy. His body fit so nicely around mine. There was a synchronicity about us—even our breathing was in time together.
I opened my eyes, and a bit of the magic evaporated. He and I had made our way to the only unoccupied room—Gopher’s.
Our producer’s suitcase was still sitting on a nearby bench, opened and overflowing with his clothes. I sighed and closed my eyes again, pushing away the rush of reality.
“Hey,” Heath said softly.
“Hey.”
I felt gentle lips on my shoulder. “You okay?”
A smile crept at the corners of my mouth. He was so good at reading me. “Yeah. Just worried about Gopher.”
Heath’s arms wrapped tightly around me. “We’ll find him.”
I sighed again. “Finding him means going back to Dunlow.”
“Yep.”
“I hate that stupid rock.”
That won me a small chuckle. And then, “Did you notice the clock is working?”
I opened my eyes and peered at the nightstand. The digital clock was flashing 12:00. “The electricity’s back on!”
Heath sat up and looked around, squinting in the morning light. “About time,” he muttered with a yawn.
There was a sudden eruption of noise out in the hallway, and Heath and I both jumped out of bed, naked and staring at the door. I knew that shrieking anywhere. “Gilley!”
I ran toward the door and Heath caught my arm. He shoved his flannel shirt at me and reached for his jeans. I threw the shirt over my head and dashed to the door. Pulling it open, I saw Gilley crying and waving his arms around, raising a ruckus, while John, Kim, and Meg all stood by trying to console him.
“They never came back!” he wailed. “The phantom’s got them!
It’s got them!
”
I heard Heath clear his throat from over my shoulder and four heads swiveled abruptly in our direction.
Followed by four jaws dropping open.
Followed by four pairs of eyes opening wide.
Gilley was the first to recover himself. “Are you two
serious
?”
I winced. He can really reach those higher octaves when he’s upset. “We’re fine,” I said calmly.
Gilley put both hands on his hips and snapped, “Oh, we can all
see
that, M. J.!”
I smiled sheepishly and pushed Heath back inside the room, closing the door quickly behind me.
“We probably should have left them a note or something,” Heath whispered.
I sighed yet again. “Yeah, well, hindsight’s twenty-twenty.”
 
Heath and I took our time going down to breakfast. I wasn’t interested in facing the reproachful glare I knew Gilley would be issuing my way the moment he saw me. I hoped that if I took my time, he’d eat, grow tired of waiting for us, and move on to his computer now that the power was back on.
I hoped wrong.
Heath and I arrived in the dining room to find it still full. All conversation died away the moment we appeared. “Uh, boy,” I mumbled.
Heath cleared his throat and laid a gentle hand on my back. “Morning,” he said to our group.
“It is for some of us,” Gilley snapped.
I felt my shoulders sag, but Heath ignored the sarcasm and took a seat near the end, patting the chair next to him. I took my seat and immediately got busy loading some eggs onto my plate.
I was acutely aware of the palpable silence all around me.
Heath also busied himself, pouring some tea into my cup, before adding some into his.
I thanked him but avoided all eye contact and dived into the eggs. They were stone cold, as was the tea, but I wasn’t about to complain or even hint that the meal was anything less than scrump-dilly-icious.
“We’re waiting ...,” Meg said.
My fork stopped halfway to my mouth, and I set it down. Heath and I exchanged a look, and I was irked to see the corners of his mouth lifting. He thought this was funny.

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