Ghostly Liaisons (Ghosts)

by Spear, Terry

  Frowning, Michael turned to his grandmother. “What can I do to help?”

  “First, you have to quit thinking about Emily so much.”

  Didn’t his grandmother have a less improbable suggestion? He squeezed Emily’s hand. “You can read my mind now, Granny?”

  “No, Michael. But you usually tell me all of the premonitions you’re having...several times a day. Since you met Emily, you haven’t been having them, have you?”

  His grandmother was right. His premonitions had nearly died away, except when he tried to force them. “Just about her going into the swamp, and the other about her getting off the school bus alone. Well, and about her being hurt by the entity and the car being wrecked in the swamp.”

  “But nothing at night or in between.”

  “No.”

  Granny looked at his class ring on Emily’s finger. “You’ll protect Emily, too, but you need to focus on your premonitions. Anything that can aid us.”

  Michael hmpfed under his breath. “I can’t see what the two of you can. And besides, Emily says I don’t have the heart of a lion.”

  His grandmother gave him a small smile. “No, and you don’t need one, either. Armando is bright. He’s been waiting for a student like Emily to come along. Someone who’s sensitive and desirous of helping others. He must have known she helped spirits find peace before. He probably realizes she wishes to aid the ghost that haunts her dreams now, and using this knowledge he attempted to secure her help. But he also understands she’s linked with you.” She paused to study Emily. “He appears to be afraid of the bond you and Emily share because it makes you stronger than him. He tested you by separating the two of you earlier today. If you stay together, he can’t break the connection.”

  “But why do you need to be there, too?” he asked, not sure his grandmother could handle the strain.

  “She’ll have to use her mind to find out who poisoned him, but he doesn’t want her just to expose them. He wants them dead, and Emily can force them to kill themselves. He’s seen her control Red before. And he has every intention of making her do his work for him because he can’t eliminate them in his spirit form.” Granny cut into her pie. “But if I’m there to help, Emily and I can probably coerce him to give up the names of his murderers. Once we know who they are, and we make it known to the authorities, maybe we can help release his spirit from our world. I doubt he can fight both of us at once.”

  It was all fine and good that his grandmother thought they had everything well in hand, but he wasn’t sure Granny was right. “But what will I do?”

  “You’ll do what you have to do. No matter what happens, you’ll protect Emily. The bond can’t be broken.”

  “Can she stay with us tonight? She says she can’t sleep because the ghost girl haunts her dreams.”

  Granny shook her head and turned her attention to Emily. “She warns you, doesn’t she, Emily? She told you about the trouble you’d have in school.”

  Emily touched her temple and narrowed her eyes while she stared at the floor. “At first, I thought she tried to warn me about the boys on the bus. But now I think it might have been Armando. If it was, then did whoever kill him, also murder her?”

  His grandmother took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Ask her about him. I assume she knows him all too well.”

  * * *

  Later that night, Emily lay in her bed waiting for the ghostly girl to visit, while the lamp cast a soft light in the room. First, she wanted to ask about the pirate, hoping the girl could give her some clues about him. Emily had to help poor Granny deal with him before he harmed her again.

  When the ghost girl appeared, Emily was ready. The window opened slowly. The hot, muggy air blew into the room in a steady breeze. The spirit wavered beside the white curtains, a shadow of a girl, nothing more.

  Emily sat up straighter in bed. “What do you know about the treasure in the swamps?”

  The girl seemed to look straight through Emily, silent as death.

  Emily feared either the ghostly girl didn’t know about the pirate ghosts, or wasn’t interested. “Was it from Spanish galleons? The ones that sank during the hurricane off the coast of...”

  The girl’s face contorted, but she didn’t speak.

  But Emily suspected she had to know something. “Who are you?”

  “Roberta Menendez.” The name echoed in Emily’s head, and she felt a mixture of hope and sadness that the girl’s life had been cut so short.

  “Roberta, I’ve seen the gold. You’ve shown it to me.”

  A hint of a smile touched the ghost’s lips.

  Something wasn’t right.

  “Roberta, are you the one the pirates curse, the wench they grumble about?”

  Again, the ghost seemed amused.

  “Why?”

  “The treasure’s gone.”

  Trying to recollect the images in her dreams, Emily rubbed her temple. “I’ve seen it. You’ve led me to it. It’s sitting on a lump of land somewhere in the swamp.”

  “Gone.”

  Unable to keep from frowning, Emily tried to make sense of Roberta’s words. The treasure was there. She saw gold bullions and coins galore, and even now could visualize it in her mind.

  “I make you see it.”

  Because she was a ghost? No, ghosts couldn’t…how could she do that? “It’s not there?” Emily couldn’t believe the treasure that seemed so real didn’t exist.

  “Stolen.”

  “So, it was there at one time?”

  Roberta didn’t respond, just watched her, waiting.

  “But it wasn’t a hurricane that...”

  A flash of anger crossed Roberta’s face.

  Not a hurricane. But what? Emily stared at her comforter, considering the scenario, then looked up at Roberta. “They’re pirates. They stole the gold from a Spanish galleon?”

  The ghost’s face remained impassive. Emily assumed she guessed right. But why would Roberta be so angered about the pirates stealing from a Spanish galleon, unless...

  “Did you descend from the early Spaniards?”

  She bowed her head slightly. “My ancestor was captain of the ship that Captain Roberts attacked. He killed the whole crew. Captain Menendez’s ship’s log was eventually recovered and returned to the family. They caught and hanged some of the pirate’s crew. Captain Roberts and a few of his men made it this far.” A wispy brow rose and Roberta’s lips curved upward. “During a storm, he was separated from his men. A fever took their miserable lives.”

  “You make them see the treasure?”

  “And make it vanish.”

  No wonder Roberta had angered them.

  “Do they think you’re a witch?”

  Looking pleased with herself, Roberta nodded.

  “What would happen if I help you to find eternal peace? The ghosts would vanish, too, wouldn’t they?”

  Shaking her head, Roberta said, “They can’t leave without their Captain. Leaderless, lost, they’re like a bunch of ragged sheep.”

  “Is he the one who’s in Granny’s backyard?”

  “Clinging to the sailboat, his latest conquest. Forever, they’ll rot here. Forever.”

  Emily realized then Roberta had her own revenge issues to deal with. If Emily could… She erased the thought from her mind, not wanting Roberta to read it.

  Switching to the problem with the school menace, Emily asked, “How do you know Armando?”

  “Armando.”

  “Yes, Armando. How do you know him?”

  Only the fluttering of the curtains whipping against the window frame made a sound. Otherwise, quiet pervaded the room.

  “He’ll take my life when he uses me to kill those who murdered him,” Emily said, hoping to solicit Roberta’s help.

  Still, there was no response.

  “What do you know about him?”

  “Armando.” Roberta spoke his name in soft anguish.

  “You loved him?” Chill bumps ran down Emily’s arms. />
  Roberta nodded, sausage curls of semi-transparent black hair rolling over her shoulders. She seemed less transparent, wearing a blue T-shirt, blue jeans, and sandals, looking like a typical teen.

  “They killed him. Do you also want those who murdered him to die for what they did?”

  “For me.”

  “What?” Emily wasn’t sure if her mind played tricks on her, or if she heard the spirit correctly.

  Taking a steadying breath, Emily took another tack. “Roberta, Armando was killed because of you?”

  Emily could have sworn tears appeared in the ghost’s dark brown eyes. She tried to sort out Roberta’s responses. They killed Armando because of her, for her. What did it mean? Had Armando loved her, and they didn’t want him to? Was it someone in her family, someone who still went to the school, someone who killed her for seeing Armando? An old boyfriend of hers and his gang who killed them both?

  “Armando.”

  “Who killed you, Roberta?”

  Silence. Would Emily be unsuccessful getting the ghost girl to give up her secrets, too? Why wouldn’t she tell her? Who was she protecting?

  “Armando.”

  Emily’s body peppered with perspiration. Her heart rate increased. “Armando killed you?” She whispered the words in disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  “Why, Roberta, why?” Emily’s voice trembled and her body shook. Her first thought when she sensed Armando’s spirit was that he was evil. But then she had doubts. Now what was she to do? If he had killed Roberta, and the others took his life in revenge…

  She rubbed her temple in frustration. Roberta was who she needed to save. She’d assumed it from the beginning, but she’d hoped she could save Armando also. “I want to help you. Of all of these people, you’re the only one who deserves better. Can you tell me why Armando killed you?”

  She floated over to the bed and touched Emily’s forehead, leaving an icy imprint.

  “He could read minds?”

  She nodded as if in slow motion.

  “Could you read minds, too?”

  Again, she nodded.

  Emily felt chilled to the bone. That’s why Roberta could transfer the image of the gold chest to the pirates’ minds. She had the same abilities as Emily had. “You knew Armando planned on doing something. The ones who came for him knew he had the ability. What had he planned on doing?”

  “He loved me.”

  “Yes.” But how could he have, if he had been such a monster to have killed her? The fine hairs on Emily’s arms stood.

  “His parents didn’t want him to see me.”

  “But why did he kill you? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I could see what he had in mind to do. I tried to stop him.” She bowed her head as if the deed had just been done, and it was too horrible to witness.

  “You got in his way,” Emily said, her voice hushed, realizing now there was even more of a reason for Armando to use her—to somehow reach his beloved Roberta.

  “He loved me.”

  “Filled with rage, he killed his parents, and he killed you, too, accidentally.”

  “I couldn’t have lived with him after what he’d done. He didn’t mean to kill me. Not me. But I couldn’t have lived with what he’d done.”

  Emily sat in her bed, totally confused. “How can I help you?”

  The ghost floated to the window.

  The swamps. Armando must have left her body in the swamps. Emily had to find Roberta’s body and have her properly buried.

  Emily jumped out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and stuck her feet into a pair of running shoes. Grabbing up her portable phone, she dialed Michael’s phone number.

  To her surprise, Granny answered.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Emily said, fully intending to tell her it was a wrong number. What would his grandmother think of her calling at such a late hour?

  “I’ll send Michael right over, dear. He’s getting dressed. Nope, he just ran out the front door. Be careful, the two of you.”

  How could they…Granny read her mind. And Emily’s hero was on his way to join her. As soon as she set the phone down, a knock resounded on the front door, and she hurried outside to find Michael standing on her front porch. A slight shadow of dark brown stubble outlined his face, and his hair stood on end in places.

  She smiled. “You look pretty good despite just having fallen out of bed.”

  He shook his head. “The things I do for you.”

  A muffled chuckle escaped her lips, and she took his hand as he turned on a flashlight. “How did you know?”

  “Granny told me to shut off my feelings for you. But I couldn’t. Instead, I concentrated on them harder. That’s when I saw the ghost girl speaking to you. I had a devil of a time forcing myself to listen to the whole bizarre conversation without racing over here to make sure you didn’t run off into the swamps without me.”

  “You could hear my conversation and actually see her?”

  “Yeah, it was really weird.” He reached up and touched Emily’s unbound hair.

  “I’ll say. Besides, I told you I wasn’t doing anything without you.”

  “Well, I can never be sure. If you hadn’t gotten a hold of me…” He shrugged.

  They dashed across the street, then slowed their pace when the solid earth gave way to wet, swampy ground. Sloshing through the wetlands, they soaked their sneakers in the warm water.

  Emily tried to ignore her rising panic...the slithering of rattlesnakes and water moccasins swimming around them in winding paths, and the alligators lurking nearby, their tails’ swishing back and forth as they swam...somewhere in the dark.

  Michael leaned over and whispered, his breath tickling her ear, “Where is she?”

  “Turn your light toward the ground, Michael.”

  Emily concentrated for several seconds on a speck of light in the gloom ahead, then pointed in front of them. “Dead ahead.”

  Chapter 14

  Michael knew Emily would be a handful, but he never expected to be slogging through swamps in the middle of the night chasing down ghosts. As soon as he heard the girl spirit “speaking” to Emily, his heart raced as if he were running for the Gold.

  He still couldn’t figure out how he managed to hear them, though he suspected it had something to do with the special bonding Emily and he shared.

  Vigilant, he kept a lookout for anything dangerous in the swamp. Being in the noisy muck in the pitch black night—except for the flashlight that pricked a meager stream of wavering light into the dark—was enough to turn his blood to ice.

  Every splash in the water that wasn’t made by their own sloshing signaled danger. Michael gripped Emily’s hand tighter, hoping he wouldn’t suddenly lose her in a sinkhole, or quicksand. Normally not a fearful person, the notion that fangs from a water moccasin might dig into their legs, or the teeth of an alligator might take a bone-crushing bite, then yank them under the water, spinning into a death roll to remove chunks of edible meat, sent a shiver down his back.

  Yet, Emily showed no fear while she searched for signs of the ghost. Was it because her intentions were so goodhearted, she couldn’t leave the spirit to suffer any longer? Or was she simply driven to seek her out? He still wasn’t certain the ghost girl didn’t want to harm Emily. How could they fight her if she did try something? Michael snorted under his breath, hoping Emily knew what she was doing and that they’d make their way out of the swamp safely.

  It smelled like rotten eggs, muck, decaying matter, all rolled up into a heated mass, rotting earlier in the sun. Only now in the dark, the heat was still stifling, the water bathtub warm, the cicadas, toads, and crickets singing in their noisy way while a hot breeze rustled through pine branches and palmetto fronds.

  Before this, Michael thought his visions were unsettling.

  “Are we almost there, Emily?” he whispered as if he might awaken the dead, or alert a hungry alligator that feeding time in the swamps was about to begin.r />
  Emily knew she had to go further into the wetlands to find where the ghost girl’s remains had been left. What she didn’t expect was the sight of her Caddy sitting deep in the muck, beaten to death by the demon seeds.

  It drew her like a whale beached on the shore, unable to survive, calling out to be saved.

  “Emily,” Michael whispered while she pulled him toward the white metal scrap heap. “The ghost girl. We’ll tell the police your car’s here in the morning. But we’ve got to find Roberta’s remains.”

  Emily ignored Michael’s voice of reason as she closed in on the car. She touched the rear bumper and stifled a sob. As much as it didn’t work half of the time, as much as she didn’t like the smell of smoke that permeated the worn leather seats, the car was hers. Had been hers.

  No one had the right to destroy it so cruelly. She couldn’t help the hate surging through her veins.

  “Emily,” Michael said, then leaned over and kissed her cheek.

  He broke the spell and she looked up at him, his face shadowed in darkness, his eyes nearly black they were so dark with concern.

  She wiped a fresh set of tears from her cheeks. “I’m all right,” she said, although she was far from all right. Her grandparents’ car had been trashed. They stood in a dangerous swamp in the middle of the night. And somewhere nearby lay the remains of a girl murdered by her own boyfriend.

  Emily focused on the visions she had. Roberta had brought her here so many times in the past few nights. The pirate’s treasure remained the key. Where was it? The gold bullion and coins in the wooden chest? Roberta made her see it for a reason. Why? Because that’s where her remains were? Close to where the treasure was before it was found and removed?