“I thought ghosts could walk through walls,” Maggie said.
“When they’re in their most transparent state, you’d be correct,” Stormy said. “But when they’re fully formed and energized, the only way out would be through a mirror.”
“There are no mirrors down here,” Koda said. “I know. I checked earlier.”
Newt walked around the edge of the room, pointing his flashlight along the baseboard of the walls and behind stacks of boxes. “Has there been any kind of construction or remodeling work done in here lately?”
“Not since I’ve been here,” Stormy said.
Newt continued sweeping the flashlight across the floor and then something caught his eye.
A barely visible line.
A line of dust.
“Look at this,” Newt said.
Stormy pointed his flashlight in the direction Newt was pointing and saw the same line of dust.
“I see it,” Maggie said. “It looks like somebody slid a box across the floor.”
“Perhaps,” Newt said.
“You know what it reminds me of,” Robyn said. “It reminds me of the way they indicate where the doors are on a floor plan—”
“—with a line coming off the wall at an angle,” Stormy said, finishing her sentence. “Christ.”
Newt nodded and followed the line of dust until it ended at the base of the wall. “Who wants the honors?”
“You do it,” Stormy said. “You’ve been chasing him longer than I have.”
Newt nodded and placed his hand against the wall, pushing on the wood paneling. A moment later, a latch released and the secret door opened.
“Son of a bitch,” Koda said.
“What do we do now?” Maggie asked.
“The only thing we can do,” Newt said. “We go to the head ghost and arrange for a warrant.”
5:05 P.M. EST
WILLIAMSBURG, KENTUCKY
STAN LEE WAS EXHAUSTED. So when he spotted the Super 8 Motel on the outskirts of Williamsburg, Kentucky, fifty miles north of Knoxville, he figured he’d put enough distance between him and anyone who was looking for him in Charleston. He felt reasonably safe, but there was no way of knowing what they’d discovered about him. Being cautious, he parked the van in the lot behind the motel and walked around to the front of the building to the office.
Stan Lee tossed his bag on the bed, pulled the drapes shut, and turned on the TV. He’d listened to several accounts of the evening’s events while driving—now he wanted to see what the major networks were saying.
The hotel was cheap, but they had cable so he had his pick of channels. Every station was leading their five o’clock coverage with the shocking news that thirty-nine of Charleston and Savannah’s rich and famous perished at the Mulvaney mansion as the result of a tragic gas leak—which Stan Lee knew was a blatant lie.
Beatrice Shaw had hidden in the catering truck, and she sure as hell wasn’t hiding from a gas leak. But what—or who—was she hiding from?
Whatever it was, the FBI didn’t want the public to know—which suggested the truth would frighten people.
Interesting.
CNN replayed the clip of Domingo Gutierrez—the nightly news anchor from neighboring Savannah—breaking the story earlier that morning. This was followed by a brief statement from FBI Deputy Director Pipi Esperanza, followed by Q&A in which she evaded, deflected, and revealed nothing new. The FBI woman was well-trained.
Then Stan Lee spotted someone on the screen he had not expected to see—Spider Boy.
What in the hell was Newt Drystad doing there? As far as Stan Lee knew, Newt was no longer with the FBI. Did this mean he was back? More importantly, did Newt Drystad’s presence at the mansion mean he’d made the connection between the Southern Gentleman and the Leg Collector?
“What can you tell us about the person who stabbed and killed Declan Mulvaney?” a reporter on the screen called out.
“I’m glad you asked,” Pipi said. “Reports that Declan Mulvaney was the victim of a knife attack were erroneous—and those media outlets who jumped on the story without waiting for the truth should be ashamed of themselves.”
The gathered media released an audible gasp.
“The only reporter who waited to get the story correct was Domingo Gutierrez of station WTOC-TV in Savannah. On behalf of the FBI, I would like to personally thank Mr. Gutierrez for his professionalism and high standards in service of the truth.”
Pipi turned and nodded her thanks to Domingo, who beamed in return.
Stan Lee sat on the edge of the bed watching the TV, and his jaw literally dropped. The FBI had completely erased him from the story. But why?
What in the hell were they up to?
8:39 P.M. EST (5:39 P.M. PST)
PORTLAND, OREGON
THE PROCESS OF getting from Charleston back home to Portland was longer and more frustrating than Noah could have imagined—starting with missing his flight. And since there were no seats available on a nonstop flight from Charleston to Portland on any airline because of the Christmas holiday, the only option was a connecting flight through Atlanta.
It would have been easier connecting through hell.
Twelve hours after Alec’s limo dropped him at the Charleston airport, Noah arrived at PDX. The only good thing about the long ordeal was that it gave him a chance to think.
Noah entered the living room and found Kizzy lying on the sofa, smoking a cigarette and watching TV, in the exact same position she’d been in when he’d left the day before. For all he knew, she’d never moved.
“I need to borrow your BMW,” Noah said.
“Good luck,” Kizzy said without looking up.
“What do you mean?”
“They repossessed it for non-payment,” Kizzy said, taking a drag off her cigarette and crushing it in the ashtray. “Thanks to you, the feds have frozen all my accounts. So much for the deal you made to keep me out of things.”
“What about the Firebird?” Noah asked.
“That’s funny,” Kizzy said, lighting another cigarette. “One minute you want nothing to do with your father, and then suddenly you want to drive his car?”
Noah crossed the room and took the matches from Kizzy’s hand. “Just tell me where the keys are.”
Onyx heard a car engine as a vehicle made the turn off the highway down the narrow road toward the lighthouse, and she walked to the window. A few seconds later, she saw the car’s headlights dancing through the trees as it approached. Whoever it was, it wasn’t someone she recognized.
Then the red Firebird came into view. It was the same car Clay spotted the night the four of them—she, Noah, Clay, and Tara—were on their way to the Sea Lion Caves.
Onyx knew the vehicle belonged to Noah’s father, who had been arrested for running the illegal marijuana operation in the forest. According to Noah, the man was in federal prison. Had he been released? If so, why was he here?
The car door opened and the driver got out, and Onyx’s heart leapt when she saw the driver.
It was Noah.
Onyx was as happy as she could ever remember being. He looked more handsome than ever, his face lit by nothing but the light of the moon. He looked older too. Like he had aged somehow.
Onyx watched as Noah walked to the back of the Firebird, opened the trunk, and pulled out a cardboard box. Noah carried the box to the center of the clearing, took the lid off the box, and turned it over. Hundreds of papers fell from the box onto the ground.
“What are you doing?” Onyx called down from the lighthouse window.
Noah threw the box aside and went back to the trunk to retrieve a second box. “These are your stories,” Noah said. “Everything that you told my grandfather. Everything he wrote down.”
Noah carried the second box of papers and dumped them on top of the first. Then he went to the Firebird and grabbed a can of lighter fluid.
“I realized that life is short, Onyx,” Noah said. “No one knows that better than you, o
f course. And I’ve made a decision.”
Noah opened the can of lighter fluid and began squirting the liquid all over the papers. “You have no idea what I’ve been through the last forty-eight hours, Onyx. I think even you would be surprised by some of it. Maybe I’ll tell you some time. But right now, I’m done with the past. I am done with your past—and my past. I only care about one thing, and that’s our future. Together.”
Noah pulled Kizzy’s matchbook from his pocket and ripped a match off and lit it. Then he dropped the match on the pile of papers. A second later, the pile exploded with a whoosh.
“Onyx, I love you,” Noah said, looking up at the window—only to see that the window was now empty.
A moment later the lighthouse door flew open, and Onyx ran down the stairs and across the clearing toward him. Then she threw herself into Noah’s arms and buried her face into his neck.
“I’ve missed you more than you can ever know,” Onyx said.
Noah pulled her head up and kissed her. Then he took a step back and dropped to one knee.
“Onyx Webb, will you marry me?”
“The true wonders of the universe can be seen in three ways: through the lens of a telescope, the lens of a microscope, and—when it matters most—the lens of human understanding.”
The 31 Immutable Matters
of Life & Death
THE END IS NEAR.
We’re sure you’re wondering...
Will Koda confront Bruce about Krissy? Will he tell Bruce he spoke to his mother’s ghost? And fulfill his mother’s wishes to forgive his father?
Will Robyn tell Bruce and Koda the truth about what happened in the ambulance?
How will things work out for Krissy now that she knows her mother is dead—and that Bruce Mulvaney is her father? And that Koda is her half-brother?
Will Newt finally catch the Leg Collector? Or will Stan Lee escape and continue taking legs... and lives?
Is there a future for Newt and Maggie?
What will become of Gerylyn now that she knows her prediction about the solstice eclipse was correct?
Now that the governor has pardoned Wyatt, will Wyatt live long enough to enjoy his newfound freedom?
Can Stormy forgive himself for allowing the murder of Declan Mulvaney to happen on his watch?
Did Nathaniel perish while trying to hold off the onslaught of ghosts, or was he able to escape?
What will become of Beatrice, Bunny, Alec, Domingo, Raymond, Kizzy, Ellen, Clay, and Tara?
What is on the cassette Declan recorded before he died?
Most Importantly...
What will happen with Onyx and Noah?
Will Onyx finally find the peace and happiness she’s wanted for so long?
These questions and more will be answered
IN BOOK 10, THE STUNNING CONCLUSION TO the ONYX WEBB series.
GET ENTANGLED
www.OnyxWebb.com
The story continues in
Onyx Webb: Book Nine.
In the meantime, we’d honored
if you wrote a review.
About Diandra Archer…
With two previous #1 Amazon bestsellers to their credit, Richard Fenton & Andrea Waltz—writing as Diandra Archer—have had a burning desire to create a paranormal ghost series for as long as they can remember.
Then, one day while walking around Lake Eola in the heart of downtown Orlando, the right idea struck. “The minute we came up with Onyx Webb—a ghost that would give anything for one more day of life, watching in torment while the living sleep-walk through life like ghosts—we knew we had it,” Andrea says.
“The story lines for the major characters were created within a matter of days,” Richard adds. “But getting a collection of complex characters from mind to page—in a 10-book saga that spans more than a century, in an easy-to-consume format—was another matter entirely.”
When not traveling, Richard & Andrea can be found in Orlando, Florida—typing as fast as they can—with their ghost cat, Courage, at their feet.
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