Ghost Town (9 page)

“Oh, wow! I saw that.” David ran up to me, panting.

“Huh?” My eyes roamed the pier. The old man had vanished.

I tried to focus on David's concerned face but kept hearing the man's words.
It is up to you.

“Did any of the wood hit you on the head? You look out of it.” David spoke fast. “Maybe I should go get someone.”

“No, no, I'm fine. Really.” I forced another smile. I was getting good at these forced smiles and pretending that everything was all right when it clearly wasn't. “It totally missed me.”

“Say the alphabet backward,” he commanded.

“What?”

“I need you to say the alphabet backward. To
make sure you don't have a head injury,” he insisted. “They taught us that in Nature Guides.”

“Seriously?” I sighed when he nodded. “Okay.
Z, Y, X, W, V
. . . uh . . . Listen, I don't know the alphabet backward, but my head is fine. I didn't even get scraped.” I spun so he could see I was unharmed.

“Well, you're lucky, then.” He surveyed the mess in front of the haunted house. “I'm going to have to call the guy at Pier Management to clean up and get a new sign. He's not going to be happy.”

I trailed David to the ticket stand. He pulled his cell phone from his backpack and made the call about the sign.

I wondered about the sign. Did it crack because it was old and the winds from the coming storm destroyed it? Or did the spirit make it fall because I said I wouldn't help him? I pushed back the hair blowing in my eyes and stared at the splintered wood. The old man had definitely pointed to it. Was the broken sign a threat or was it some sort of clue?

“This place is a dump,” David remarked when he finished.

“So . . . do you think it's unsafe?” I followed him through the swirling wind to the side door of the mansion.

He chuckled. “I knew you were scared.”

“I'm not scared,” I insisted. “Well, okay, maybe a little.”

“All the monsters and ghouls are safe and sound.” He unlocked the side door and flicked a switch, bathing the mansion in light.

“I wasn't worried about them,” I quipped, stepping into the small utility room beside him. “I was worried about the real people. The people who almost get crushed by falling signs.” I couldn't believe I'd just said that. I'd never been sarcastic before. Something about this town was making me bolder.

“Point taken.” David opened a huge panel on the wall and ran down a row of switches with his fingers. “I assume this place is safe. It's just rundown. The company that owns it isn't interested in fixing it.”

“Really? That seems so wrong.”

He shrugged. “I complain all the time, but they
just ignore me. They think I'm some dumb teen.”

“Which you're not.”

“Which I'm not.” He grinned. “I see Lily hasn't poisoned you yet. I need to do the morning run-through. I do the first check, then Mike, the manager, does the final one before we open. Do you want to see Midnight Manor unplugged? The acoustic version?” he asked.

“Sure.” I knew I should be getting home, but suddenly I wanted to see exactly what was in this house.

“What's wrong? You have that weird worried look again.”

“There's something about this place,” I began. “It feels . . . off. Like something bad is going to happen. Do you ever feel it?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” I couldn't control my excitement.

“Yes, I feel that people are going to think this haunted house stinks and stop coming, and I'm never going to get enough money for that camera.” He pretended to shiver. “Bad feelings.”

“Very funny,” I muttered.

I followed David through the house as he checked each room.

Midnight Manor looked so normal with all the lights on and all the mechanical scares off. I pulled my camera from my back pocket and snapped photos of random objects—brass doorknobs, mechanical skeleton hands, old candelabras.

“Look how much stuff needs repair.” David pointed out tracks to be oiled, dozens of lightbulbs to be changed, curtains to be seamed. I took photos of it all. I wasn't going to use this stuff for a collage. I was hoping that the old man's disaster would show itself through my lens. But nothing here looked as if it'd cause a tragedy.

“You know that bad feeling?” I decided to try one more time. “I just feel that something's going to happen here.”

“Kind of like a sixth sense, huh?” David said. “Okay. What's going to happen?”

“I don't know,” I admitted.

“Do you know
when
it's going to happen?”

I shook my head “No.”

He laughed. “Your psychic powers need work.

You don't know too much, do you?”

I blushed. He was right. I was more confused than ever.

“Mermaid's tears.” Lady Azura peered over my shoulder that afternoon on the front porch.

I gazed up from sorting the treasure from my morning beach walk. “What?”

She pointed to the sea glass I'd gathered. “That's what my friends and I called sea glass when I was young.”

“Really? Why?” I sat cross-legged. Shells and glass surrounded me in carefully organized piles.

Lady Azura adjusted the enormous brim of her woven, oversize sun hat. It was something a glamorous 1940s movie star would have worn. I wasn't sure why she had it on, because the sky was still overcast and a light rain drummed the porch roof. It must go with the long white dress, I decided.

“The story starts with Poseidon, god of the sea,” Lady Azura began. “One day, a sailor's boat was caught in the powerful winds and the waves of a storm. The sailor was being pulled under and
would surely drown, and the mermaids swam to help. Poseidon, angered that the mermaids dared to interfere with his control of the sea, banished them to below the surface. They were never to help another human in peril. The mermaids were so sad, that whenever they saw humans swallowed by the sea, they'd cry and their tears would harden and wash up to shore.”

I scooped the green and clear glass in my hand. The glass was no longer sharp and angular. Decades of being in the sea, pounded by waves against the rocks, had smoothed the glass and made it frosted. “That's a neat story.” I reached up and placed a few glass pebbles in Lady Azura's hand.

She lifted her arched, penciled eyebrows in surprise. This was the closest I'd come to a gesture of friendship since I'd arrived. “When I was a child, back in the Dark Ages, there were so many more colors. Browns, blues, even reds. People no longer toss bottles in the sea, I suppose. Recycling and all that.”

“That's a good thing,” I reminded her. “Keeps the water clean.”

“Yes.” She took several steps backward and began
to lower herself onto the hanging double swing.

I sucked in my breath. The spirit knitting the scarf that never grew was there. Lady Azura was about to sit on her lap! True, Lady Azura was tiny, but the spirit was old. My eyes grew wide.

The spirit continued to knit, never dropping a stitch. Lady Azura paused, then gracefully shifted to the right, bypassing the spirit's translucent lap and landing next to her instead. She grinned slyly at me.

I gazed between the living and dead women. Should I say something? I had no idea what. I turned back to sorting shells.

Lady Azura watched me silently for a while. “I am receiving an unhappy vibe from your aura.” Her voice had taken on a husky, mystical quality.

“You hardly need to be psychic for that. I don't love it here. No offense.” Except for meeting Lily, I wished we'd never moved to this spooky shore town.

Lady Azura breathed deeply several times. “I don't think Stellamar is the cause,” she said quietly. Both her palms were pressed together and she seemed focused on her wrinkled fingers. “It is
not the present that brings you unhappiness. This feeling is old. Older than you.” She sighed. “We have all felt it.”

Slowly she separated her hands, revealing the sea glass pieces in her palm. “Some things are not clear. Some things look one way and then turn out to be something else.” She pinched a pebble of pale green glass and held it up.

“I don't understand.” My voice came out in a shaky whisper.

“Sara, we often don't get to choose our path. Sometimes, like with this piece of glass, we get pulled along by the current. We drift, unsure.” She fixed her steady gaze on me. “But there is always a choice. The choice to float along or the choice to change direction and swim.”

“Swim?” I repeated. Of course, I knew she didn't want me to actually swim, but what did she want me to do?

“Action, my child.” She titled her face toward the sun. “I am advocating action. If you don't like something, change it.”

There were a lot of things I didn't like.

I didn't like living here.

I didn't like seeing spirits.

I didn't like the old man's mysterious instructions.

I didn't like Lady Azura speaking in riddles.

After a moment's hesitation, I scooped the shells and sea glass into a bag and stood. I knew how to fix the last one.

“I'm ready for a change . . . of scenery,” I announced with my own sly smile. “I'm going upstairs to work on this project.” I waved, then strolled into the house.

When I glanced back, Lady Azura's scarlet lips were raised in an amused grin. I had a feeling that wasn't the action she was talking about.

A few minutes later, I stood at the bottom of the stairs, transfixed by the thick purple curtains to my right. Lady Azura's rooms. All week I'd been feeling a pull . . . a tug . . . guiding me in there. Suddenly, it seemed extremely urgent to enter.

I could hear Lady Azura's muffled voice from the porch. The mailman had sauntered up and leaned against the railing, visibly happy to get out of the rain and chat for a while.

Quietly, I stole across the foyer and slipped through the fabric. My heart pounded in my ears. I had never sneaked into anyone's private place before.

My eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. The curtains were drawn. The cinnamon aroma surrounded me. My nerves tingled, suddenly alive. The air felt electric with promise. Anything seemed possible.

I brushed my fingers over the clear, smooth crystal ball and peered inside. Nothing. I held a vial of blue liquid to my nose. It smelled faintly of maple.

Then I spotted the gemstones.

I edged closer. My eyes danced over the colors and shapes. Lady Azura's husky laugh drifted in from outside.

My hand reached like a magnet seeking metal for the pink tourmaline. The gemstone she said kept evil away. The opaque, rosy stone warmed my palm. I squeezed my fingers around it and closed my eyes. My heartbeat slowed. Muscles in my neck relaxed. A feeling of strength spread throughout my limbs.

The mailman was saying good-bye. My eyes blinked open.

In a flash, I darted back through the curtain and
hurried up the stairs, the pink tourmaline still warm in my hand.

I sat on my bed and looked at the oval stone for a long time.
Protection from evil spirits.
I had no right to take it. I knew I should return it. Yet, I couldn't. Not now.

This stone will help me, I decided.

I traced a vein of gray snaking through the pink stone.

The old man desperately needed help.
My help.

Maybe Lady Azura was right. Maybe it was time to dive in.

“Again?” Lily wrinkled her nose. “Okay, spill it. Do you have a crush on David?”

I stopped mid-slurp, nearly choking on my frozen lemonade. “What?” I screeched. “No way!”

“Look, I'm just saying, this is the third day in a row that you've made us hang out by the haunted house.” Lily's bangle bracelets clanged as she waved her hand. “I mean, don't take this wrong, it's kind of boring watching people trot in and out. And I know you're scared of going inside it. So, logic tells me we're there because of David.” She gave a self-congratulatory grin, as if she'd discovered the answers to the test before the teacher handed it out.

“I'm so not crushing on David,” I insisted as we headed once again down the pier toward Midnight Manor.

“Uh-huh, like I'm believing that.” She raised her sunglasses and narrowed her eyes at me.

“I'm not into him. Just friends. Really.” I knew Lily didn't believe me. But what could I say?
Hey, Lily, we've been staking out this haunted house waiting for some unknown person, who could be dead or alive, to make some disaster happen so I can try to save people I don't know.
She'd think I was loony.

An hour later, I was starting to wonder if maybe I was.

We sat on the bench outside Midnight Manor. Lily flipped through a teen magazine, deciding which Academy Awards dresses would look good on her. I watched the people by the entrance. Two little boys with squirt guns. A tired mom wiping cotton candy from a wriggling toddler's chubby cheeks. A boy on a skateboard nearly running down a dad holding the hands of sand-crusted twins. The eerie melody boomed, and kids tumbled out the exit door high-fiving and laughing.

No one the least bit threatening.

Last night, Dad even came with me. We went through the house together. He was impressed that I got through without screaming. He didn't know that I'd been through the house many times now. I knew when every ghoul
would jump and every chandelier would fall. But I didn't know what I was supposed to do.

I stood and walked over to David. About twenty people waited at the ticket stand. “Hey, how's it going?”

“The same as it was going a half hour ago when you last asked.” He ripped a ticket then gave me a wary look. “What's up with you?”

“Nothing.” I tried to look casual. “So . . . see anyone suspicious coming through?”

“Suspicious how?”