Ghosts of Coronado Bay (6 page)

Maya brushed cool sand off her feet and slipped her sandals back on. She’d walked the entire beach, hoping Blake would appear. Naturally, she’d seen no sign of him.

Talk about bad luck with guys. It’s not enough that I can’t make a connection with any boys in my school. Now I manage to screw things up with a ghost who hasn’t seen a girl in one hundred years. Maybe I should start dating girls, like Alison Keel from history class.

She knew that wouldn’t happen, though. The two times she’d experimented with Lucy behind the Lanes had convinced her she was totally straight, unlike some of her friends. Not that it grossed her out or anything, but the turn-on factor just hadn’t been there, even after a few wine coolers.

So, girls are out. Apparently guys are out. And now even ghosts are out. That doesn’t leave much. Maybe I should just start collecting cats, like old lady McCann down the street.

She started toward her house, then changed her mind and headed back up Main Street. One more trip past the museum, in case--

A hand came down hard on her shoulder and spun her around. Even as she started to scream, her attacker grabbed her by the shirt and threw her to the ground.

“Shut yer mouth, girl, or I’ll shut it for good.”

Maya scooted backwards as the heavy-set man approached her. A jagged scar ran across one cheek. Something moved behind him, and she realized he wasn’t alone. A second man stood there, dressed just as shabbily as his partner.

She stopped screaming and took a deep breath as the first man bent down, his hands ready to grab her. Focusing on a spot in the middle of his chest, she lashed out with one foot and then scrambled to her feet as the man let out a surprised grunt and stumbled backwards into his companion.

Rubbing his chest, the man glared at her. “Now you’re in for it, witch.” Hands raised, he lunged forward.

Maya waited until the last second before kicking again. This time she caught him on his left knee, and he cried out in pain, a scream that abruptly turned into a coughing groan when her second kick landed right in his crotch, sending him to his knees.

Turning to the second man, who was smaller and thinner, Maya shouted, “C’mon, asshole! Try me!”

The man took a step forward, and for a moment Maya thought he might really come at her. She crouched down, her lessons in blocking and kicking clear as day in her head thanks to hours of practice. Then he turned and ran around the corner, disappearing in the shadows of a tall hedge.

With the immediate danger gone, her adrenaline subsided and the realization that she’d been attacked - attacked right on Main Street! - hit her like a punch to the stomach.

What if there’s more of them?

Without waiting to see if the first attacker was back on his feet, she ran up Main Street to the diner, where her father was just coming out the back door to make the nightly bank deposit.

“Dad!”

The sight of him, and the safety he represented, triggered her tears, which made her rushed explanation even harder to understand.

“Whoa, settle down. Are you hurt? Did they touch you?”

Maya nodded against his chest. “I’m okay. They knocked me down. I kicked one of them in the balls and ran.” She wrapped her arms around her father, relishing the strength and security of his presence. Even his odor, part sweat and part food, made her feel safer.

Keeping a firm grip on her, Roger Blair guided his daughter back into the diner, where he sat her down and then called the police.

Ten minutes later, Police Chief Clayton Finley, a gruff, pot-bellied man whose daughter had been Maya’s babysitter back in middle school, pulled up outside, lights flashing atop his olive-green SUV.

“I’ve got Ted Barry cruising the side streets,” he said, after making sure Maya hadn’t been hurt. “I didn’t see anything on my way here, so that fellow whose ‘nads you smashed must not have been hurt too badly. Or maybe his friend came back for him. You didn’t happen to see a car, did you?”

Maya shook her head. “No. I was just walking, and all of a sudden they hit me from behind.”

Finley made notes in a small pad. He had a habit of licking his pencil each time he wrote, which started to annoy Maya after the first couple of times. “Prob’ly hiding in the hedges, waitin’ for someone like you to walk by alone. Dammit, Maya, you should know better than to be out by yourself this late at night.”

“I was on my way home. I didn’t know our town was so dangerous I needed a police escort.”

“Easy, Maya,” Roger said, patting her hand. “Clayton, we both know the kids always walk around at night. These streets are supposed to be safe.”

Finley shrugged beefy shoulders. “Every year the big city gets a little closer to our island. I keep telling the mayor we need more help. I can’t do this job with just two officers.”

“Well, I’ll take Maya home tonight. Does she have to make a formal statement or something?”

The Chief shook his head. “Nah. Not unless we catch the bastards. Then I’ll ask her to come in and identify them. Sure you can’t remember anything else?” he asked Maya.

“No.” She’d already given the Chief a description of the two men.

“All right. I guess I don’t have to tell you to stay off the streets at night for a while, unless you’ve got friends with you. Sounds like these two mighta been homeless or something. Heaven knows why they came here.”

God, why wouldn’t he shut up? All she wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed with a hot cup of tea. “No, I’ll be careful from now on,” she said, more to reassure her father than anything else. Truth was, she knew none of her friends, or her, were going to stay off the streets just because some derelicts tried to mug her.

“Then, I’ll get going. We’ll patrol the area extra tonight, just in case. Maybe we’ll get lucky and catch them heading back to wherever they came from. ’Night, Roger.”

“’Night, Clayton. Thanks, again.” Roger looked down at Maya. “Ready to go?”

“God, yes. Um, do we have to tell Mom?”

“What do you think?”

Maya rubbed her eyes.

“I think it’s gonna be a long night.”

*  *  *

“Damn you idiots to the seven Hells!” Gavin shook his fists at Nigel Murphy and Ian Powell as he stalked back and forth across the museum foyer. Miniature explosions of electricity, like tiny balls of St. Elmo’s fire, shot from his knuckles, illuminating the sailors’ frightened faces. “You let a girl best you in a fight!”

“Bloody girl wasn’t supposed to fight back,” Powell muttered. Murphy remained silent, the pain of Maya’s well-placed kicks still fresh in his mind.

Gavin pointed a glowing finger at Powell, and the sailor cringed. “I don’t care if she carried a bag of weapons and stood ten feet tall. She’s a damned girl. You had her on the ground. For the love of God, all you had to do was fall on her.”

“You don’t understand, sir. She was like some kind of witch, she was.”

Murphy nodded his agreement at his companion’s statement.

“A witch? What did she do, cast a spell of idiocy on you both? Get the hell out of here before I show you what real magik is and return you to the watery graves I dragged you from.” Gavin turned his back, and the two men who’d once been deckhands on the Black Lady hurried away before he could change his mind.

“What now, Mister Hamlin?” Victor Fogg, who’d been watching from a safe distance while Gavin berated the sailors, asked.

“What now?” The tall youth stared out the wide windows of the museum. A pale, luminescent corona surrounded his body, as if stray moonbeams followed him and spotlighted his every move.

“Now, I take things into my own hands.”

*  *  *

From his hiding place behind a wall of bookshelves, Blake listened to Gavin and clenched his fists until they glowed like a steam engine’s coals. Maya was still safe, but it was only a matter of time before Gavin got hold of her.

No, I cannot let it happen. No matter what the cost, I must protect her.

This I vow.

On Sunday morning, Maya almost missed church. She didn’t know it at the time, but her running late initiated a chain of events that would eventually lead to several deaths.

Blissfully ignorant and still muddleheaded from a poor night’s sleep, she opened her eyes to bright sunshine, the caress of a warm breeze across her skin, and the smell of fresh-mown grass trickling in through her open window.

It should be cold and rainy, because that’s how I feel inside.

Sleep had been a long time in coming the previous night, between her guilt over standing up Blake and the residual adrenaline in her body from the violent encounter on Main Street. She’d texted Lucy before going to bed, but didn’t expect to hear anything until later in the day. Sundays, Lucy usually slept until just before she had to be at work, and then didn’t get a chance to talk on the phone until her break later in the afternoon. Maya’s Sundays usually meant being up at nine-thirty to get ready for church. She went early because her parents attended the late afternoon services, during the lull between the lunch and dinner crowds, while Maya covered the cash register.

Still staring at the ceiling, Maya groaned at the sound of the town clock tower chiming ten times. That meant she had about ten minutes to wash up and eat.

For a split second she contemplated staying in bed. There was a good chance her parents wouldn’t mind, not after the night she’d had. But if she used being tired or nervous as an excuse to skip church, there was a good chance they wouldn’t let her hang with Lucy later.

Time to drag my sorry butt out of bed, then.

Five minutes later, dressed in church-acceptable shorts and blouse, her hair tied back in a ponytail, and extra makeup covering the circles under her eyes, Maya sat down at the table and gulped down a bowl of cereal while she read the note her mother had left her.

If you’re not feeling well this morning, stay home and rest. I’ll call later and see how you’re doing. If you need anything, let me know.

Maya snorted. “No way I’m staying home,” she said through a mouthful of Rice Krispies. In fact, she was kind of looking forward to work. Maybe Master Spiegel, her karate instructor, would stop by like he sometimes did on Sundays. She wasn’t sure she could wait until class on Monday to tell him how she’d handled her attackers. She’d been taking lessons for two years, but between work, school, and hanging out with her friends, she’d never made the progress she wanted to, or that he expected of her.

I can’t wait to see the expression on his face. Maybe I’m not as bad as I thought I was.

Laughing at his imagined reaction, she hurried out the door and down the street towards Our Lady of Sorrows, Coronado Bay’s only Methodist church.

Halfway there, a familiar figure stepped out from behind a tree and waved to her.

“Blake!” She picked up her pace, closing the distance between them, grateful to see a friendly smile on his face.

I hope that means he’s not mad at me.

“Good morning, Maya,” he said, his voice as happy as his face.

“Hi. I’m, like, really sorry about last night. My parents made me work late, and I couldn’t call you ‘cause you don’t have a phone, and then I went to the Lanes looking for you and then walked down to the beach and then these guys attacked me, and--” Maya stopped, belatedly realizing her words were pouring from her mouth in machine-gun fashion.

“It’s okay,” Blake said. Then his face turned serious. “But I have something important to talk to you about. I--”

At that moment, the church bells pealed, announcing there was only a couple of minutes until services started.

“C’mon, I can’t be late or Pastor Harris will tell my parents!” Maya grabbed Blake’s hand and ran down the sidewalk to the church, not pausing until they opened the heavy wooden doors and stepped into the incense-scented semidarkness. A few heads turned and cast disapproving glances as the door banged shut behind them.

“We’ll sit in the back,” Maya whispered, pointing to a half-empty pew. “That way we can leave as soon as the service is over.”

“But I--”

“Sshh!” Maya put a finger to her lips and pulled Blake down into the seat next to her. “Tell me later.”

For the next fifty minutes, Maya did her best to pay attention to the sermon, but found her eyes continually drawn to the boy sitting next to her. His frigid hand was a constant reminder of his presence, not to mention something of a relief in the warm, stuffy church. Every time their eyes found each other, a little tingle shot through her and made her squirm in her seat.

Even when he faced forward, as he did most of the time, seemingly enthralled by the pastor’s sermon, he held her attention. She took time to study his profile. His pug nose, which seemed almost babyish when viewed straight on, had a more mature look from the side. His light brown eyebrows bent forward as he concentrated on the pastor’s words. His eyelashes, so ordinary from the front, were in actuality long and delicate.

She wondered what he was thinking. Had he attended church regularly before he died? How did church today differ from his time? Had he always been so serious, or did that come from being a ghost?

Grandma Elsa still jokes with me all the time. Maybe Blake was just a shy kid, or maybe it had something to do with drowning the way he did. That had to be a horrible experience.

Having something other than the Reverend’s sermon to concentrate on helped the time go by, and before she knew it services came to an end. As soon as it did, she and Blake made a hurried exit. Maya didn’t want to get stuck talking to anyone, especially since she still had no idea how she’d handle explaining Blake’s presence.

“Can we talk now?” Blake asked, as they descended the long stone front steps of the church.

“Sure. I--” The chime of Maya’s cell phone interrupted her. “Hang on. Hello?”

“Maya? Where are you?”

“Just leaving church, Mom. What’s up?”

“Can you come right over? It seems like half the town decided to go out for breakfast today, and the other half is probably leaving church with you and heading over here.”

“Sure. Be right there.” Turning to Blake, she said, “I’m so sorry. My parents need me at work right away.”

He looked distressed. “But I really need to speak with you. It’s important.”

“Can it wait until later? I get off work at five. Meet me at my house. We’ll have the place to ourselves for hours. You remember how to get there?”

He nodded. “Five o’clock. I’ll be there when you get home.”

“Cool. See you later.” She blew him a kiss and took off at a fast walk towards Main Street. She was all the way to the corner when she remembered that without her nearby, Blake had just turned invisible in front of dozens of people.

Well, I didn’t hear anyone scream. That’s good, I guess. Gotta be more careful next time. God, dating a ghost is harder than dating a regular guy.

Still preoccupied with the image of Blake fading away in front of the Sunday congregation, Maya didn’t notice the tall, dark-haired young man standing in front of the diner until she bumped into him.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. I’m like a total flake today.”

The man, who looked about twenty or so, smiled. “That’s all right. There are worse things than having a pretty girl step on your toes.”

Maya tried to think of a witty come back, but her mind went blank as she stared into the stranger’s movie-star dark eyes. He looked like he’d just stepped out of one those hip TV shows where wild teenagers spend their whole lives hanging out at the beach or in the mall. More like one of those movies about angst-ridden vampires who pine to be human again, she thought. His fancy white dress shirt, worn untucked, and the waist-length black jacket with the silver buttons added to the look.

“What’s your name?”

It took her a moment to understand he was talking to her.

“Oh, um, Maya. Maya Blair.”

“Pleased to meet you.” He nodded to her. “My name is Gavin Hamlin.”

“Hi. Did you come out of the diner?”

“No, I was just walking the streets, getting to know the town.”

“Oh, are you new here?”

“Yes. My family...owns a business in Boston, and I’m here for a while working on some contracts.”

Maya gave a small laugh. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look a little young for that. Shouldn’t you still be in like, college or something?”

Gavin shrugged. “I attended university for a while, but...” He let the words trail off, and then gave Maya a quick wink. She smiled.

“Wasn’t for you, huh? Sometimes I think school’s not my--”

“Maya!” Her mother poked her head out the door. “Hurry up. You’re already late.”

“I’ll be right in, Mom. God, gimme a minute.” Hoping her embarrassment didn’t show too much, she turned back to Gavin. “I, um, gotta go.”

“I understand. Perhaps we could meet later?”

“I’d love that.” Don’t gush, Maya! Then she remembered Blake would be at her house after work. “Um, but I’m getting together with friends later. How about we meet tomorrow afternoon? Around four-thirty?”

His lips curled up in a half-smile that promised hard, rough kisses. “I’ll be counting the hours.”

“Um, cool, I, uh--”

Maya’s mother saved her from further embarrassment by opening the door again. “Maya! We’ve got tables waiting! Shake a leg.”

“Sorry. I really gotta go. See you tomorrow.” She fled into the noisy safety of the diner before her tongue made her sound like a complete spaz. But he’d been so handsome! Then there was no time to even think about the encounter as her mother pushed an apron into her hands and told her to bring coffees to table seven.

It wasn’t until her shift ended that she realized she hadn’t given Gavin her number, or gotten his.

Great. That’s twice this week you’ve acted like you’ve never met a guy before. At least Blake, thanks to his being dead and all, had a way of finding her. The only thing Gavin knows is where you work. Which means hanging out by the diner after karate practice tomorrow, hoping he’ll show up.

That thought led to another. What about Blake?

She knew what Lucy would say. “It’s a no-brainer. You just started dating Blake. You’re not married to him. You’re not even going steady or anything. You’re totally free to see someone else. Especially a McHottie like Gavin.”

The imagination-Lucy was right. She wasn’t tied to Blake. Forget the fact he was a ghost. They hardly knew each other. Besides, what if Gavin turned out to be the right guy for her. How would she know if she didn’t at least go on one date with him?

The weird thing was Gavin was the total opposite of Blake. The fresh-faced, serious kid vs. the darkly sensual man. Day vs. night. Good guy vs. stereotypical bad guy. You knew they’d both open a door for you, but you also knew Gavin would check out your butt, maybe even snap a pic of it on his cellphone, as you walked past. Blake would always be there for you. Gavin would burn like fire for a month, and then you’d find out he had a girlfriend back in Boston. Or maybe two. Blake would become friends with your friends. Gavin would try to date them.

And yet somehow, she felt drawn to Gavin, as if a dark, dangerous gravitational field surrounded him and it was pulling her in.

The Lucy in her head laughed and rolled her eyes. “So do the horizontal mambo with Gavin and then go back to Blake.”

“God, Lucy, all you think about is sex.”

“Excuse me?”

Maya turned from hanging up her apron and saw an elderly woman by the bathroom door giving her a confused look.

“Um, I said, this hook is loose; it’ll fall off next.”

The spinster-type stared for a moment longer then went into the ladies room, shaking her cotton-topped head.

Great. Now I’m talking to myself. Get a grip, Maya. What are you gonna tell Blake when you see him?

By the time she reached her house, she still had no answer to that question.