Ghost Town (28 page)

She couldn't believe she was doing this. Mitch had as much as come right out and said that he wanted to rape her, and there she was asking him why he was holding back.

When he had first approached her in the Exhibition Hall and told her that he had come to get her because Trevor, Drew, and Amber were in trouble and needed help, she hadn't questioned him. So many strange things had happened that day already, and this was just one more. So she had followed Mitch outside, got into his car, and let him drive her away from the hotel.

During the drive, she had peppered him with questions, but he hadn't answered. He had driven without looking at her, as if she no longer existed as far as he was concerned. At one point, she had reached out to touch his arm, hoping to get his attention. It had been a gentle touch, but he whirled on her as if she had punched him, teeth bared, eyes blazing with anger.

The mask of rage before her was so unlike the kind, concerned man who had walked up to her in the Exhibition Hall that for a moment, she didn't believe what she was seeing. But then he spoke, and the coldness in his voice convinced her that his transformation was genuine.

“Shut the fuck up, and don't give me any trouble, or you'll be the second person I've killed today.”

He faced forward again, and she shut up. And when he drove her to Forgotten Lore, parked in the alley behind the building, and told her to get out of the car, she did. She also unlocked the back door at his command and led him up the stairs to her living quarters above the store. At first, she had been relieved when he tied her to the chair—she had been expecting him to force her into the bedroom—but as the minutes dragged on, the fear had returned. She'd wanted to believe that if he tied her up, it was because he
wanted to keep her alive. But a new thought had crept into her mind, a dark, nasty, skittering cockroach of a thought: maybe he was saving her for later.

Maybe he was building up an appetite.

Now, as he looked at her, expression unreadable, her heart thudded in her chest, and cold nausea churned in her stomach. She didn't want to goad him into hurting her, but she could no longer sit in silence, waiting to see what he would do.

He frowned as he considered her question. “Because it's what I'm supposed to do. Besides, you're not her.”

“Not Amber.”

He didn't respond, but she knew she was right.

“If you're not supposed to hurt me, why don't you let me go?” She doubted it would be so easy to get him to release her, but she had to try. Besides, he might go for it. He
was
crazy, after all.

He looked uncomfortable, as if he didn't want to talk about it. But he answered anyway. “If I do what she says, she'll give me Amber.”

“She?” Jenn was confused. The only other woman involved in this mess that she knew of was Connie. Then it came to her. “You mean the Dark Lady?”

He said nothing, but his lowered gaze and subdued expression answered for him.

“She's like, what? Your boss?”

Mitch's hand lashed out, bright pain flared in her jaw, and an instant later, she found herself lying on the floor without any idea how she had gotten there. Had she blacked out, just for an instant? She thought she might have.

Mitch crouched down and leaned his face in close to hers. “I'm my own man. No one tells me what to do, least of all some freakyass ghost bitch. Got it?”

Her jaw throbbed, and the side of her head ached. She wondered if she had cracked her skull on the floor when the chair
tipped over. When she didn't respond right away, he grabbed hold of her ear and gave it a sharp twist.

“Got it?”

Wincing, she nodded.

He gave her ear a last hard pinch before releasing it and standing. He looked down at her for a moment, as if considering. “I think I'll leave you lying there. You're still tied up nice and tight. Maybe you'll take a nap or something and let me watch my goddamned movie in peace.”

He started back toward the couch, but halfway there, he stopped. Standing in the middle of the room was a black-garbed woman with long raven hair and marble-white skin. She was soaking wet, and rivulets of water ran off her and pooled on the floor around her pale feet. Mitch's back was turned toward Jenn, so she couldn't see his face, but from the way he froze at the sight of the Dark Lady, she knew he was terrified of the apparition.

She supposed she should have been afraid, too, but instead, she felt only awe.

I'm looking at a ghost,
she thought.
An honest-to-God house-haunting, chain-rattling ghost.
Although why the Dark Lady was soaking wet from head to toe, she had no idea. Not that it mattered. Jenn knew that whatever happened after that moment, however long, or short, her life might be, she would never again doubt the existence of the paranormal. She hoped she would get a chance to tell Trevor. She could imagine how he would joke about it, using humor to try to take away some of the pain she had experienced.

She could almost hear him say, “If I'd known that all it would take to open your mind was getting kidnapped by a psycho, I'd have abducted you myself years ago.” Despite the situation, the thought made her smile. It was a comfort to have Trevor there with her, even if only in spirit.

“I did like you said.” Mitch's tone was defensive. “I brought her here, and I haven't touched her.” He glanced over his shoulder at
Jenn lying on the floor. When he turned back to face the Dark Lady, his words tumbled out in a rush. “It was an accident! I didn't mean to hit her so hard! She—”

The Dark Lady became an ebony blur as she darted forward and fastened marble-white hands around Mitch's throat. He made a strained gurgling sound as his airway was cut off, and he reached up and grabbed the Dark Lady's wrists. He attempted to pull her hands away, but although he was physically larger than she, he couldn't break her grip.

“I told you: she is not to be harmed.”

The Dark Lady didn't open her mouth as she spoke. Instead, Jenn heard her words in her mind, as if they were her own thoughts. The “voice” was a cold one, though, as harsh and unforgiving as a blast of winter wind.

Mitch tried to answer, but all he could get out was a few wet clicks. The Dark Lady maintained her grip on his throat a moment longer, and then she released him. He crumpled to his hands and knees, gasping for air.

The Dark Lady turned her attention to Jenn. Although the ghost made no move toward her, didn't so much as gesture, Jenn's chair gently righted itself.

“My apologies.”

Not knowing how else to respond, Jenn nodded. She felt it best not to speak. The Dark Lady might not have shown any aggression toward her yet, but Jenn knew better than to think the ghost was benign. After all, if Trevor and his friends were right, she was the one who'd killed Tonya. Jenn feared that if she said the wrong thing, it would be her turn to feel those cold white hands encircling her neck.

The Dark Lady looked down at Mitch, and her impassive features became an expression of contempt.
“Get up.”

Mitch rose to his feet. His breathing was raspy, but otherwise he seemed OK.

Too bad,
Jenn thought.

“Put a gag on her, and double-check her bonds to make sure she can't get loose. You and I have more work to do.”
She glanced at Jenn.
“When this is all over, if you still want her, you can have her, too.”

Mitch gave Jenn a grin that was full of dark promise. It scared her just as much as the Dark Lady did.

Maybe more.

Amber didn't think
she had any more tears to shed, but when the medical examiner's people wheeled Ray's sheet-covered body away, more started falling. Drew had kept his arm around her ever since they had driven the Dark Lady from the library, and she was more grateful than ever for his support. Confronting a supernatural force was hard enough, but dealing with the aftermath of that force's attack was far worse. Especially when it resulted in the death of someone you knew.

“I've never understood why a ghost would want to kill a living person,” Trevor said. “I mean, all that does is create another ghost.”

“Once a soul is brought over into the afterworld, it's much easier to torment,” Greg said. “Trying to harass someone across the dimensional boundary is like sending threatening e-mails to a person on the other side of the planet. There's only so much harm you can do. But once you've dragged a soul over to your side of the metaphysical fence, there's no end to the fun you can have with them.”

“Thanks for
that
disturbing tidbit of information,” Trevor said. “I was happier when you were pretending to be Connie.”

On one level, Greg's revelation of his true identity hadn't come as a surprise to Amber. It explained “Connie's” odd behavior and the strange sense of familiarity that Amber had increasingly felt around the woman. But now that she knew the truth, she was experiencing what Drew would call cognitive dissonance. Hearing Greg's words coming out of Connie's mouth in Connie's voice
was, simply put, wrong. But there was one thing she didn't understand.

“Why didn't I sense that you'd taken possession of Connie?” she asked.

Greg smiled with Connie's mouth. “You're talented, but you're new at the whole psychic thing. It wasn't difficult for me to block your perceptions.”

Chief Hoffman and a number of his officers had arrived not long after Amber and the others had emerged from the maze. They were taking statements from various witnesses, and Hoffman himself was questioning Erin and Carrington over by the circulation desk. Pattie sat with Sarah by the snack bar while a paramedic tended to the latter's shoulder wound. Pattie held Sarah's hand, her own tears trickling down her face. Sarah winced as the paramedic cleaned her wound, but she didn't cry out in pain. Considering how bad it must have hurt, Amber thought that was something of a miracle. Amber and her friends stood in a small group between the snack bar and the circulation desk, right where the chief had asked them to stay until he could get around to speaking with them.

One of the paramedics, when she saw the blood staining Amber's blouse, had offered to take a look at her, but Amber had declined, saying it was only the result of a bloody nose and that since the bleeding had stopped, she was OK. In truth, she had no idea if she was OK or not. She had never engaged in psychic warfare before, had never considered that she could be capable of such a thing. That battling the Dark Lady had taken a toll on her was clear. She felt drained of energy, and it was a struggle to keep her eyes open. She wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a month. But was it possible that her brain had suffered injury during the struggle? And if so, how bad? Was she in danger of having a stroke or an embolism? She wondered if Greg might know, but she didn't want to ask him in front of Drew. She decided to do her best not to worry about
herself right then. They had more important things to deal with, like making sure the Dark Lady didn't claim any more victims.

Hoffman finished with Erin and Carrington and came walking over to them.
He looks so tired,
Amber thought.

“Hell of a thing, huh?” he said.

He sounded tired, too, as if he would rather be anywhere else in the world than there. She knew exactly how he felt.

Carrington walked past them as he headed over to Sarah and Pattie. Erin accompanied him until she reached Amber and the others, then she stopped to listen in as the chief questioned them. That the woman didn't go check on her wounded crew member first spoke volumes about what kind of person she was, Amber thought.

“To be honest, I'm not sure I want to talk to you folks,” Hoffman said. “What I've heard so far is wild enough. I really don't want to hear whatever craziness you have to add.”

“All you need to know is that a supernatural force is responsible for the killings in your town,” Drew said. “We're going to do everything we can to stop it, but it would help if you didn't make it easier for the spirit to find more victims.”

Hoffman sighed. “You're talking about canceling the parade, aren't you? If I tried to do that, the mayor would go ballistic, and the Chamber of Commerce would want to string me up from the nearest tree.”

“Four people have died—” Trevor began.

“Six,” Hoffman interrupted. “I just got a call a few minutes ago. The head librarian died before they could load him into the ambulance. And a student named Emily Fernandez died on the way to the hospital.” He paused. “She was just eighteen.”

“Don't forget Alex,” Amber said. “He died last week, and we think the spirit is responsible for his death, too.” She looked at Erin, but the woman said nothing.

“Seven people, then,” Hoffman said.

“And there's all the people who were injured in this attack,” Drew said. “Along with the physical wounds, they've suffered significant psychological trauma.”

“And they're the lucky ones,” Trevor said. “At least they're still alive.”

“Ever heard the phrase ‘shooting fish in a barrel' ?” Greg said. “If you allow the parade to go on as scheduled, it will be a disaster.”

“All right,” Hoffman said wearily. “I'll talk to the mayor and see if I can persuade her to cancel the parade.” He shook his head. “I don't understand it. If Exeter really is haunted—and right now, I can't deny that it is—why would a ghost suddenly become violent now, after all these years?”

“We have a theory,” Drew said. “We believe the spirit feels threatened by Erin's documentary.”

Erin looked uncomfortable, but she didn't say anything.

“Seriously?” Hoffman said. He looked at them all for a moment and then sighed. “I want you all to tell me something straight, no bullshit. Can you really stop this ghost or spirit or whatever the hell it is?”