Vendetta (Deadly Curiosities Book 2)

by Gail Z. Martin

  This time, I didn’t enter the ghost’s thoughts as fully as before, except to feel terror in every cell and sinew of my body. After a hundred years of quiet darkness, not exactly heaven but far removed from hell, something appeared in the everlasting night. It was not the Father Almighty.

  Like watching a movie with the sound turned off, something I could see but not influence, I saw the wraith stalk the young man’s ghost. Tad. His name had been Tad. Thaddeus, maybe, but no one called him that. Just Tad.Lonely, afraid, desperate for company, he had gotten too close the first time, only to lose part of what little he had left to the wraith’s hunger. After that, there was terror. Hiding. Fear of being found, of having the last little bit of self destroyed after all these long years. The darkness was so vast. Suddenly, the everlasting night that had seemed to be the enemy became an ally, a place to play a deadly game of hide-and-seek. And finally, the young man’s spirit got the answer it had been seeking. There are some things worse than death. Being consumed is one of them.

  When I came back to myself, I was screaming. Teag held me by the shoulders, shaking me gently, calling my name. We’ve done this a lot, unfortunately.

  “Come back, Cassidy!” His eyes were worried. I guessed that I’d been pretty far gone. I’ve never gone so deep into a vision that I haven’t been able to find my way back, but there’s always a first time. And if there was a first time, it was likely to be the last time.

  I nodded groggily, like a drunk sobering up on coffee. The terror and loss of the young man from the vision stayed with me, frightening and sad. “I’m okay,” I managed. Teag’s look told me that he sincerely doubted that.

  Instead of arguing, he pushed another glass of sweet tea into my hand, and waited while I gulped it down. The icy cold liquid shocked me back to myself, and the sugar rushed through my veins like elixir. Only then did I realize I was shaking and sobbing, grieving for two lovers who had been dead for more than a hundred and fifty years.

  I dragged the back of my hand over my eyes and took a deep breath to steady myself. Teag waited patiently. “I saw the story behind the memorial jewelry,” I said, carefully laying the velvet box aside. “Young lovers. Civil War.” Unfortunately, that story was a common refrain with the pieces we often saw at Trifles and Folly, although rarely had the past made such an impact. “I’d expect a piece like that to have a lot of mojo,” I added, trying to get my voice to stop quailing. “But there’s a ghost attached to it, and the thing we fought off tried to destroy him.”

  Teag frowned, alarmed. “That monster attacks ghosts?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. It took a bite out of him. And I have the feeling that whatever that thing was, it went away, but it’s not really gone.”

  “Then we’ve got a big problem,” Teag said. “Because Charleston is a spookfest, and that monster is going to have an all-you-can-eat buffet if we don’t do something about it.”

  THE NEXT MORNING, I woke up feeling more refreshed than usual, something I attributed to the magic in the salve and bandage. The cuts on my shoulder were healing well, and they hurt a lot less than I would have expected. I fed my little Maltese dog, Baxter, grabbed some peanut butter toast for breakfast, and headed to the store. It was a warm fall day, typical for Charleston, and my strawberry-blonde hair was staying in place for once. One look at my hair and my pale skin, and there’s no doubting my Scots-Irish blood.

  I was surprised when my phone rang on the way in to the store. It was Kell Winston, and he sounded worried.

  “Could you meet me at Honeysuckle Café?” Kell asked. “I need to talk to you.”

  Kell was an acquaintance; a college friend of Anthony’s and someone Teag and I had worked with on occasion. The sudden, urgent request caught me by surprise.

  “Sure,” I replied. “In fact, I’m heading that way right now to grab coffee. Want to meet me there?”

  “Done. See you in about fifteen minutes.” Kell ended the call, and I stared at my phone for a moment, trying to figure out what was going on and wondering if it could have anything to do with the ghost-eater we had run into the day before.

  Honeysuckle Café is my favorite place to grab a latte. It’s a local coffee house on King Street, and thrives because of – and in spite of – being one-of-a-kind instead of a national chain. Inside, the café feels like a comfy living room with overstuffed chairs, piles of books, and vases of fresh flowers. People linger to actually have a conversation.

  Although I was in a pretty good mood when I left the house, as I got closer to the coffee shop, the worse I felt about Tad’s ghost, like I had failed him. I let him down. He’s in danger, and I can’t help him. Some big bad monster hunter I am. Total effing failure. I caught my mood spiraling, and pulled myself out my thoughts. It took me a few minutes of giving myself a silent pep talk to shake off the awful feeling of guilt that had overwhelmed me. In fact, I was so deep in thought that I didn’t hear Rick ask me a question when I got to the head of the line.

  “Big or little?” Rick, the barista, asked.

  “Big – but I’m going with the chai latte special today,” I replied. The coffee bar at Honeysuckle Café is Rick’s stage, and he’s one of the reasons the place is so popular with King Street merchants and tourists. A sign on the wall over the espresso machine reads ‘Rick’s Place’ and with his long face and bedroom eyes, Rick is a dead-ringer for Bogart. He plays up the resemblance with a wardrobe of vintage clothing and snappy fedoras.

  “Hi Cassidy!” Trina, the café owner, waved from over by the register. I thanked Rick for my latte and headed over to pay for it. The café has good food and great coffee, but the real reason I love going is because Rick and Trina hear all the news in Charleston, and are happy to pass it on.

  “What’s new?” I asked as Trina rang up my order.

  “You ought to ask Drea,” Trina replied, handing me my change. “They’ve had some excitement with the ghost tours.” I raised an eyebrow, encouraging her to go on.

  “Valerie told me that she had to cut last night’s tour short because the ghosts were frightening the tourists and throwing rocks,” Trina nodded. Drea Andrews owned Andrews Carriage Rides, and Valerie was one of her most popular tour guides. I’d known both of them for a long time.

  I frowned. “And she’s sure it wasn’t just teenagers playing a dangerous prank?”

  “She’s sure.” Drea had come up behind me in line, back for a coffee to-go. “I was going to stop over at Trifles and Folly to tell you about it.” While we waited for her coffee, Drea continued the story. “Valerie’s been doing the ghost tour for years, and nothing fazes her. She swears that the regular ghosts know her and leave the guests alone.”

  “But not last night?”

  Drea paid for her coffee. “Nope. Valerie said that there were cold spots all over town. She heard knocking on fences, saw shadows that shouldn’t have been there, had an orb flash right in front of the group – and got pelted with pebbles even though no one was in sight.”

  “Wow,” I replied. “I guess the customers got their money’s worth.” The ghost tours were Drea’s most sought-after excursions.

  Drea didn’t look pleased. “There could have been injuries. Thank goodness no one was hurt.”

  We said good-bye and I went to grab some extra napkins before I found a seat to wait for Kell. I didn’t even look up when someone came to the cream and sugar station until the newcomer spoke to me.

  “Have you ever had the triple-pumpkin latte?” the man asked. “I took a chance and got it, and now I’m hoping I’ll like it.”

  I glanced up at the best looking man I had seen in a long time, including on TV and in the movies. He had dark hair and blue eyes, and although his jacket-over-jeans combo was casual, I recognized the brand names of the clothes and knew they didn’t come cheap.

  “It’s very good,” I replied offhandedly. I was still thinking about what Drea had said, and it had me worried.

  “I figured that you’d know,” he said, and nodded toward my cup.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that the rest of the women and some of the men had noticed the stranger. I glanced outside through the picture window, wondering where the production truck was and racking my brain for which show he might be on.

  “Yeah,” I said. “This is my favorite place to get a latte.”

  I expected him to grab some packets of sweetener and a stir stick and be on his way, so when he gave me a high-wattage smile and turned like he meant to chat, I was surprised. Isn’t your producer waiting for you? Since when do they send the on-air talent for coffee?

  “I take it you’re not a tourist?” he said. Behind us, I could hear a muted buzz of conversation as the folks in the coffee shop tried to place the newcomer.

  Cute though he was, something put me on guard. I hoped it wasn’t just being out of practice. It’s been about a year since my last ‘romance’. “Nope. I live here. Most of my life. Charleston is a nice place.”

  On one hand, I hesitated to ask a question because I wasn’t really in the mood to flirt. And on the other, I’ve been raised to be polite – unless I’m kicking demon ass. “New in town?” I asked, letting politeness win out, for now.

  His smile reached his eyes, which were Caribbean-sea blue and crinkled a little around the edges. Maybe that’s what put my guard up. Not only was he my type, he was a little too much my type to be true. I’m cynical. So sue me.

  “Everyone says how beautiful Charleston is,” he said. “So I came to find out for myself. And it is,” he added with a little extra emphasis to let me know he wasn’t talking about the city. Was that actually a pick-up line?

  I reached for the sweetener packs at the same instant as Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Perfect, and my hand brushed his. Magic tingled so hot it burned, and I stifled a yelp. I saw a flash of something in his eyes that went deeper than surprise. He hid it well, but I thought I saw a glint of anger.

  “I got us a table in the back.” Kell Winston came up just then, tall and lean with light brown hair, blue eyes, and dark summer tan – looking like he should be on a yacht somewhere rather than in a coffee shop. He stepped in between Coffee Guy and me, sparing me from having to say something. “I’m glad you could meet me,” Kell added. Whether Kell was oblivious to the good-looking stranger or was ignoring him intentionally I wasn’t sure.

  “Enjoy your visit,” I said to the newcomer as I gathered my things, trying to be neighborly without giving him any ideas. Something about the guy was sending my gut warnings into overdrive, and I’ve learned to trust my intuition.

  “See you around,” he said, grabbing his cup of coffee. There was nothing unusual about the way he said it, but I wondered whether it was a promise or a threat.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Kell said. “I know you’ve got to open the shop. So I really appreciate you meeting me here on such short notice.” We found a table away from everyone else, and I took a sip of my latte, waiting for him to go on.

  “I don’t know who else to tell about this.” Kell said. “But I know you’ve dealt some with ghosts, and frankly, I have no idea what to make of things.”

  I sipped my chai, letting Kell take his time telling his story. Kell runs the Southern Paranormal Observation and Outreach Klub, better known as SPOOK, a local group of high-tech ghost hunters. Unlike some of the ghost shows on television, Kell and his group aren’t sensationalists. They do their research, and seem dedicated to understanding the true nature of ghosts and spirits from ‘beyond’.

  Of course, Kell had no idea about what we really do at Trifles and Folly, although he’s pretty sure I have some type of psychic gift. Especially after the last time Teag and I went out with his group. We were attacked in an old crypt by a deranged vampire’s ghost, and barely managed to fight it off. That kind of thing makes an impression, and so I wasn’t surprised that Kell had called me when his team ran into something they couldn’t explain.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Kell looked genuinely worried. “In the last couple of weeks, there’s been a real uptick in supernatural activity all around Charleston,” Kell replied. “We’ve tried to figure out what’s causing it. Moon phases. Tides. The alignment of the planets. The season of the year. The wobble in the Earth’s rotation. You name it, I’ve looked into it. I can’t figure it out.”

  “What makes you think the ghosts are riled up?” I asked. My chai latte was hot and seasoned with pumpkin and nutmeg. It was the perfect drink for a fall day, but given the topic, the tea did little to soothe my nerves.

  “I know most people think we’re just thrill-chasers,” Kell said. “But most of us, especially our core group, really want to know what causes paranormal activity and what’s on the other side.”

  Most of what I’d seen on the other side wasn’t friendly. Personally, I wasn’t in a hurry to cross over and see more of it. Much as Kell thought he wanted answers, I was pretty sure that he didn’t want to know the truth.

  “So we don’t just observe a site one time,” Kell went on. “We do our best to visit the sites a couple of times a year and take new readings. That way, we know if sites get more or less haunted, and whether the phenomena changes if there’s a new owner, for example, or a renovation.”

  “And you found changes.”

  Kell nodded. “Not just in one site, but in all the ones we’ve re-surveyed in the last month,” he said. “Big changes. But what has me worried is, the ghosts are not only more active, but they’ve gotten aggressive.”

  “How so?”

  Kell ran a hand through his hair. “Geez, you’re going to think I’m nuts.”

  I smiled, although inside I felt a growing worry. “No, I promise. I definitely won’t think you’re nuts.”

  Kell looked at me a little sheepishly. “All right then. Most of the paranormal activity we’ve documented is pretty passive. Readings on the EMF monitor. Voices or footsteps where there aren’t any people. Hazy images. Objects that have been moved – usually a very short distance.”

  “And now?”

  “Now, it’s like every ghost in Charleston suddenly took poltergeist lessons,” Kell said. “Instead of a light touch on someone’s shoulder, it’s a shove. Instead of a chair rocking gently, the chair suddenly tips over. We didn’t just get fog on a window last night, it actually iced up.” He shook his head. “It’s the first time in all the years that I’ve been ghost hunting that I’m actually getting scared.”

  “Has anyone gotten hurt?”

  “No. At least, not yet,” Kell replied. “And none of us have gotten the feeling that the ghosts are trying to attack us. If anything, they seem... frightened.”

  “What could scare a ghost?” I asked, although I had a pretty good idea.

  “That’s what I’ve been wondering. So I’ve been doing some research. I’ve been going through everything I can get my hands on, and there are a few situations that I’ve found like this, all from long ago. But I don’t know if I can believe what the researchers at the time said was the cause.”

  “How weird could it be?” I asked, crossing my fingers under the table that Kell hadn’t stumbled onto the truth.

  Kell looked like he was prepared for me to laugh at him. “I only found three mentions. And all three times – different countries, different time periods, different ghost hunters – the researchers blamed witches with the power to destroy restless spirits.” He gave a weak smile. “Crazy, huh?”

  It might not be, but I couldn’t tell him that. For one thing, Kell didn’t know about the Alliance, and I wasn’t going to let him in on the secret. The fewer who knew, the better. He had a medium and a clairvoyant on his team, but none of them had the level of power that could stop a curse or fight a wizard of real power, and I didn’t want them to get hurt playing out of their league.

  “Do you really think anyone has the power to hurt the dead?”

  Kell sighed. “Before all this happened, I would have said no. Now, I don’t know. Something has riled up the ghosts. It’s got to the point where Melissa won’t go ou
t with us anymore because she says she can’t stand to hear the ghosts screaming in her head.” He frowned. “The last time we went out, Melissa literally got sick from the impressions she received. She said that something was destroying the spirits. Isn’t that awful? But Melissa isn’t the kind to make something like that up.”

  “How did you think I might be able to help?”

  Kell set the empty cup back on the table and hesitated as if he were searching for just what to say. “I don’t know. Just hearing me out helps. I didn’t know if you’d come upon any old books, or charms, or sacred objects that we might be able to use to protect the spirits.” He looked at me earnestly. “They’re dead, Cassidy. Most of them had some kind of tragedy that kept them stuck here. They’ve suffered enough, first in life, and then by not getting to go on to wherever it is we’re supposed to go when we die. They weren’t bothering anyone. And now, thinking that someone – or something – is hurting them, it makes me angry.” Kell gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “Listen to me. I make it sound like they’re a bunch of stray cats.”

  My mind was leaping ahead. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” I replied.

  Kell looked confused. “Stray cats?”

  I shook my head. “No. Charms. Protections.” Something else occurred to me. “Did you find any ghosts that didn’t fit the pattern? Any that hadn’t been damaged?”

  Kell nodded. “A few. They were still riled up but Melissa didn’t get the same sense of panic.”

  “Did those ghosts have anything in common?”

  “Yeah. They were inside old churches. Consecrated ground.”

  In other words, inside very powerful, heavily reinforced wardings. “You know, I think I may have a couple of ideas that might help with this,” I said. “I know some people who have a lot more experience with the supernatural than I do,” I added, fudging just a little. “How about if I go talk to them, and let you know what they say? Maybe I can get you some charms and amulets and you can take them to where the ghosts were causing a problem.”