Ghost Maven
Tony Lee Moral
Ghost Maven
Copyright © 2016 by Tony Lee Moral
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, locations, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Saturn’s Moon Press: [email protected]; http://www.cactusmoonpublishing.com
Book cover design: Melissa Carrigee, Creative Director for Saturn’s Moon Press
ISBN: 978-0-9975363-5-5
For Josephine
Acknowledgements
Ghost Maven was written during two inspirational years living in Monterey, Pacific Grove and the Big Sur. Hiking in the cypress forests, kayaking in the bay, and countless visits to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, Point Lobos and Point Pinos Lighthouse helped shape the backdrop of the story.
I thank my agents Melissa Carrigee and Jeanie Loiacono from the Loiacono Literary Agency for their dedication and encouragement. Also thanks to Autumn Conley who read an early draft of the book with her keen eye, and Lily Woodmansee from Saturn’s Moon Press who brought the novel to fruition.
This book is dedicated to my mother, who loved this story, and encouraged me to write more.
Prologue
Ghosts are a figment of the imagination . . . until I moved to the beach in Monterey.
“Stay away from the water,” I commanded the young fair-haired girl, sitting on an outcrop, dangerously close to both the boy and the swelling Pacific.
The girl nodded dumbly, too terrified to move. Watching her with a burning intensity, was a strange looking young man, his eyes black as the abalones that clung to the rocks. He was beckoning her toward him as though calling out with a telepathic intensity.
“Don’t listen to him,” I said firmly. “Keep looking at me.”
The boy snarled and lunged toward the girl through the skeletal, silver trees. In a flash, I ran forward, reached for my dagger and plunged it into the boy’s heart.
His face twisted in contortion and within seconds he disappeared, seemingly evaporating right in front of us. I’d lost count of how many ghosts I had slayed by then.
Taking the shaking girl in my arms, I smoothed her wet hair. She accepted my gestures then peered up at me through teary eyes. “Who are you?”
“My name’s Alice,” I said softly.
The girl’s eyes focused on the rose amulet around my neck. Made of black crystal, it was shaped with a silver lining that had darkened with age.
“What is that?”
“The sign of a Ghost Maven.” I had only recently learned the full implications of the Rose.
“How did you know?” she asked, “I mean about him.”
I took in a deep breath and looking out to the ocean, I started to recall the first time I had come across one of his kind.
It seemed like only yesterday. . .
Chapter One: The Fog
I’d always been in search of my own private island, somewhere I could feel safe, a solace from life’s miseries. In the rough seas off Monterey, I thought I finally found just that.
At first we didn’t see the strange fog rolling in from the horizon because we were too busy concentrating on our strokes. It crept in as we paddled, draping itself over the water like a kind of gray ectoplasm, obscuring the horizon and the sea in front of it.
“Stay in a V formation!” shouted Priory, the hunky gym instructor in his twenties, a sun-kissed Californian jock. I couldn’t help but keep my eyes focused directly on his masculine figure as he navigated the water like a swift sea otter, his strong muscles steering his kayak nimbly through the thick ocean swell.
Thrusting my paddle into the choppy water, I tried to keep my wooden kayak gliding in a straight line. Even though we were only half a mile out to sea, it seemed more like five hundred. I also obsessed over showing a brave face so no one would notice the terror in my eyes. Aquaphobic for as long as I can remember, I struggled with a real fear of drowning. Not afraid of dying, per se—but the nightmarish idea of ice-cold water pouring into my throat choking my tongue and filling my lungs, rendering me unable to breathe or speak, terrified me more.
We were all from Monterey High School, like a dozen ducks bobbing in the vast expanse of ocean. The surging swell shone a shimmering blue, draped with kelp like gaudy necklaces on a voluptuous body. I am no great fan of sports or athletics, but on that day, I had something to prove and fears to overcome.
“Hey Christian, how many virgins does it take to change a light bulb?” That was Lance, another thick-muscled jock deftly steering his kayak through the thick swell.
“Dunno. How many?” replied Christian, a pleasant, fresh-faced boy. He had curly brown hair and a sunny disposition, exuding a good-natured charm. Although he was in his late teens, he still had baby fat around his face which made him look younger. I met Christian the first week after we moved to Monterey, outside church waiting for my dad and little sister. Since that very first day, he has always attempted to make me feel welcome.
There was a brief pause before Lance answered, “One to change it and the other two hundred to tweet about it.”
“That’s terrible,” Christian said with a groan.
“You guys suck,” shouted Ruth, an athlete in her own right, paddling a purple canoe.
The playful banter continued. I wanted to join in but I didn’t feel I knew them well enough. After all, I was the still the new girl, having only been in school for a week. My homeroom class had already organized a kayaking trip for the end of the week, so I volunteered to go thinking it would be a great way to break in and make new friends.
Just before the fog had rolled in, I felt excited for a new beginning, like those random spring flowers that emerge along the coastal path. Despite my fears, it felt good to be out on the bay on such a sunny day. For a moment I almost forgot about the few painful months my family and I recently endured. The water lapping around me seemed to absolve it all.
In the distance, through the encroaching miasma, I spied Point Pinos lighthouse with its tall, white tower gleaming in the sunlight. We were still a couple hours away from sunset when the light would switch on but the lighthouse was still a reassuring beacon as we paddled through the waves. Between that and Priory, I convinced myself that I was safe.
A spiky-raven-haired girl as she paddled to the right of me shouted, “How you doin’, Alice?”
“Good,” I fibbed, grimacing a fake smile. Truthfully, I wasn’t at all comfortable in the water, and I never had been.
Her name was Emily. She wore her black hair standing up like violet crocuses, her freckled skin was pale, even whiter than mine. Something of an eccentric among the girls at Monterey High, her style of dress was eclectic and for this outing she’d opted for pink shirt, mauve scarf, black trousers, and handmade silver earrings. Emily befriended me right away when I started school.
“Look,” she suddenly shouted, pointing. “A sea otter!”
I spied the animal in the distance, his paws wrapped around a clam shell with long whiskers quivering in the sea breeze. The sunlight caught the sheen from the oil on his greasy back. He watched our group inquisitively before disappearing under the water in a flash, a ripple across the glassy surface the only evidence suggesting he had been there at all.
A murmur of delight spread across the twelve kayakers but the elation soon turned to horror as everyone began to notice the white mass of clouds and fog sweeping in. The mass enveloped us and rushed toward the shore with its poisonous breath. I c
hoked on the acrid air that engulfed us.
Priory’s steel-gray eyes squinted at the horizon. “We’d better head to shore, NOW!” He angled the nose of his kayak toward the distant lighthouse and urged the rest of us to follow.
I quickened the pace of my paddle, my heart beat wildly—threatening to thunder out of my chest. The opaque blanket seemed like a terrible omen as it covered us, surrounding us with suffocating fingers. I had never seen fog so thick, nor had I ever experienced such a strange, nauseating stench that invaded my nostrils. It corroded my eyes and lips, pressing stingy salt water against my skin.
“I can’t see in front of me,” Emily yelled.
“Keep calm,” Priory said. “Everyone turn your kayaks ninety degrees and paddle to toward shore. Slowly now. Keep calm and follow my voice.”
Visibility worsened and I lost sight of the other kayakers.
“Emily, are you there?” Priory cried out.
“Yes,” said a meek voice.
“Christian?”
“Yes.”
“Ruth?”
“Yes.”
“Lance?”
“Yeah.”
Priory continued going through the names until he came to mine. “Alice?”
Too terrified to move let alone speak, I offered no reply.
“Alice!”
Somehow, I steered my kayak away from the group, and they quickly disappeared into the dense cloud mass. I could vaguely hear them calling my name but their voices became fainter and fainter. “Hey!” I managed to shout. “Hey!”
I detected fear dripping from my voice and tried to calm my shaking hands. In spite of my efforts, I trembled fiercely and felt alone, like abandoned driftwood left to tarry at sea. “Hello?” I shouted again. “Priory! Christian! Emily!”
No reply.
Oh God, Oh my God, I prayed to myself. What am I doing here? How stupid can I be? What am I trying to prove? Who am I trying to impress? I took a deep breath and tried to motivate myself. Confront your fears, Alice. Everything will be okay.
A nearby splash startled me.
What was that? Another sea otter? I knew there were sharks in the bay, but looking around, I could see nothing through the thick, gray fog. The damp air seeped into my nostrils and throat with its suffocating clench. Feeling drowsy, I gasped for air, hoping not to succumb to a panic attack.
Then for a moment the fog lifted and I saw it—in the distance toward the middle of the bay, glowing in the sunlight like an aura—an island. I could see the sand illuminating with a golden-yellow hue on a pristine beach nudged up against clear, turquoise water. Rising above the shoreline stood two mountain peaks covered in green, stretching high into the heavens. It was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen, like a fancy vacation postcard deserving of a frame.
A strange calm descended over me.
I was quite puzzled as I didn’t know of any island in Monterey Bay. Still, whatever it was, I could most definitely see land, so I paddled in that direction. Trying to keep my kayak in a straight line, I dug deep into my strength reserves and kept calm as I steered toward the land mass. All I could hear was the slop-slop-slop of my paddle hitting the water, as I focused on the silhouette of the island. It was so beautiful, I felt an inner peace and tranquility despite the grim circumstances.
Then—as quickly as it appeared—the island vanished. I looked again but saw nothing except the desolate sea and sky. The mist suddenly became so dense I couldn’t even see my hands on the paddle. Even my upper body seemed shrouded.
“Oh God,” I muttered, convinced I would meet my Maker. The only consolation; death would guarantee a reunion with my mother.
My thinking became disoriented and muddled, and I felt uncoordinated and weak. Feeling seasick and having lost the will to paddle at all, I dropped the oar in the water, and it ebbed with the tide, slowly drifting away. In seconds, it, too, completely vanished, just like the island.
I was left to face my fate.
A huge wave tumbled me overboard. When I hit the ice-cold water, it knocked the wind out of me cutting through my chest like a thousand knives. The murky depths enveloped me, the water chilling me to the bone. I gasped, and my mouth instantly filled with salty seawater, gagging me. I tried to take a breath but couldn’t. My limbs went limp, and I was sure my greatest nightmare was about to happen. I knew I was drowning.
SPLASH! I could see the shape of something moving near me.
Another sea otter? A shark? Really, it didn’t matter, for I was much too drowsy to care. I tried peering through the murkiness to see who or what splashed about, but the freezing water stung my eyes making it difficult to keep them open. To my amazement, I thought I saw a familiar face in the water beckoning me.
Then I could see a shape swimming toward me and trying to focus, I watched the figure swim with strong, steady strokes. Dark clothes floated in the current with hair that resembled golden seaweed suspended in the water. As the swimmer got closer I could see it was a boy. He had a pale face, like a luminous vision in the murky blue, and seemed at ease underwater. As he swam closer, I saw him looking at me with the lightest blue eyes I’d ever seen.
The sight of him strangely calmed me, like the quell of acceptance before death. An inner peace descended upon me as I lost control. I could no longer hold my breath and was sure I would drown as I lost consciousness. I told myself, before you know it, the water will fill your lungs entirely, and it will all be over.
Just as I sank and the depths threatened to swallow me forever, the boy reached out and grabbed my arm. With a touch so gentle it felt magical, he slowly pulled me toward the surface. As we ascended, he reached forward and kissed me.
His lips were lush and cool against my own and I forgot all about drowning. All I could think about was the magic of that kiss touching me in a way I never felt before. In semi-consciousness, I struggled over whether it was even possible to feel that kind of touch let alone feel it again.
Chapter Two: Henry
“Alice…Alice…Alice…”
The voice sounded hollow and empty, as if echoing inside my skull. It sounded strange and alien, yet sort of familiar. A distant memory of my mom calling me when I was a child. We were playing hide-and-seek, and I had hidden in the downstairs cupboard. It took Mom ages to find me, but I knew she deliberately took her time, prolonging my fun and my favorite game.
I’m dead, nothing matters anymore—maybe I’m in the fourth plane, I thought to myself. Pretty sure I’m not going to Heaven anytime soon. These thoughts comforted me. If I was dead, I could see Mom again. I could remind her I love her, and if I had the chance to live again, I would promise to be nicer to Sophie and help out more with the housework.
I opened my eyes and coughed up an ocean of water. It felt like someone forced my mouth open and poured a bag of salt down my throat. My tongue was thick as sandpaper, as if it had rubbed against the sea in battle and lost. Both of my eyeballs stung from the salty water and when my blurry vision could finally focus, I saw four anxious faces peering down at me, as if I were some shriveled specimen, waiting to be dissected for a biology exam.
“She’s coming around,” Christian said, his face draining of the anxiety that had been building up in his furrowed forehead.
“Thank God,” Emily cried, looking haunted. I could see from her eyes she had been crying. The tears left stained streaks on her cheek from the black mascara and her eyes looked like two black lumps of coal.
“Try not to move your head, Alice,” coached Priory, placing his wet hands against my temples. “Somebody grab a towel from my kayak.”
“Wh-what happened?” I managed to stutter.
“You capsized in the water,” Christian said, his voice sounding grave. “We found you on the shoreline ten minutes ago.”
“Capsized?” I tried to sit up. “Ouch!” My head hurt as if hit with a baseball.
“Take it easy, you’re safe now,” Christian said, smoothing my wet hair across my forehead. I noticed
his nose was slightly bent to the right of his face, I never paid any attention to his face before. Looking down at me, his face seemed accentuated and at that moment, his crooked nose was all I could think about.
Emily began to cry as if she knew what I was going through.
Silence followed for a few minutes as I tried to collect my thoughts—then I remembered the boy who rescued me. “The boy. . .Where is he?”
“What boy?” Christian asked, looking at everyone else to see if they heard me too.
“I—he pulled me out of the water and saved me from drowning,” I said, struggling to get up. Someone brought a towel and placed it under my head so my chin was touching my neck.
“We didn’t see any boy,” said Christian. “Take it easy now, Alice. You have a slight concussion.”
I frowned, tasting the saltwater in my mouth again. Another memory wafted into my groggy mind, the distinct silhouette of a mysterious island in the bay with twin peaks stretching into the heavens. I recalled an irresistible allure, like a tide pulling me to the golden shore. “There was this. . .an island,” I said. “I saw an island, right in the middle of the bay.”
Priory frowned. “What island?”
“When the fog surrounded me, I saw it in the distance. Something sort of drew me there, so I paddled toward it, but. . .”
Sensing a murmur among the crowd of onlookers, I realized the other kids from my class were staring down at me like I was some helpless, floundering seal.
“Alice, honey, there’s no island in Monterey Bay,” Christian whispered. “Maybe you just imagined it, like a mirage or something.”
“I did not! It was there! An island! I saw it with my own eyes,” I insisted, struggling to get up. “Ouch!”
“Take it easy. The paramedics are on their way.”
I closed my eyes, but all I could see was the memory of the island and the handsome face of the rescuer who saved me from drowning.
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