Ghost Walk

by Cassandra Gannon

  “I tried to deal with Lucinda in a reasonable, civil, and ladylike way. She was the one who went and made it difficult.” Eugenia’s tone suggested that committing a gruesome homicide had been nothing but an inconvenience for her. “I went to her room that night and I explained that she needed to give me Jamie. I know that she stayed home from church last Sunday to seduce him. I saw him sneaking from the house. You think I could just allow that kind of behavior to continue?”

  “I’m not thrilled with the mental picture, either.” Grace admitted honestly.

  “Lucinda wouldn’t listen to reason, though. She laughed when I told her that Jamie belonged to me.” Eugenia’s pinched lips pinched even tighter. “Laughed!” She shook her head. “She had the gall to tell me that Jamie and I would never be together. That even the two of them weren’t together, in any significant way. That he was waiting for someone.” Her voice sneered over the word. “Fool. He was waiting for me! No one else.”

  “No.” Grace said quietly. “He was waiting for his Partner.”

  Eugenia didn’t even hear her. She was lost in her memories, happy to have a captive audience to admire her brilliance. After years of living in Lucinda’s shade, it must have been liberating finally to shoulder her way into the spotlight. “Well, you can imagine, the discussion turned a great deal more unpleasant, after that. I had no choice but to tell Lucinda that she must leave my beau alone or I would expose her scandalous behavior to our parents. And do you know how she replied?”

  “Um… with a four-letter word, I’m guessing?”

  “Worse! With threats of her own. She said she’d go to Jamie and tell him that I’d been spying on them. Watching them in flagrante delicto, through a small peephole between our rooms.”

  “You watched Jamie and Lucinda have sex?” Grace echoed incredulously. “Ew!” Jesus, it was like time traveling into a rerun of Melrose Place.

  Eugenia gave a prim sniff. “I was merely keeping an eye on him. Making sure my sister didn’t do anything too vile.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “In any case, after her threats, I knew then what I had to do with Lucinda. She wasn’t going to stop until she had ruined me! So I pretended to go to bed, at the usual time.” She smiled at her own cleverness. “But really I was just waiting half an hour, for the rest of the house to fall asleep.”

  “Waiting naked.” Grace surmised.

  “Well, I wasn’t about to get blood on my nightgown. I’m sure the servants would have noticed when they did the wash.” Eugenia rolled her eyes as if it was only logical. “Anyway, it was all very simple. I got a knife from the kitchen and snuck into Lucinda’s room. I’m not sure she had any idea what happened, until after she was dead and roasting in whatever ring of hell is saved for man-stealing whores.”

  “What about your parents? Did you even think about them?”

  “My parents?!” Eugenia chortled. “They despised Lucinda. They’ll probably thank me for ridding the family of her brashness.”

  “They’d prefer her dead on the bedroom floor?”

  “Well, I was going to make sure they never knew she was dead.” Eugenia shrugged, as if it was the thought that counted. “I planned to push her body out the window and then hide it in one of the marshes around here. I’d tell everyone that I heard her sneak out and they’d think she ran off with some man.” Eugenia paused, still pissed that her plans had been ruined. “…But then you interrupted me.” She frowned. “How did you even suspect what I was planning?”

  “I first read about the murders when I was a kid. My aunt had a book called Horror in Harrisonburg.” Which she was guessing Eugenia had a hand in writing. She craved attention and the smug sensation of knowing something nobody else did. “I just had no idea Lucinda’s killer was going to be her own little sister.”

  Eugenia seemed confused by that explanation and offended by the phrasing. Both emotions had her temper flaring. “I told you, I didn’t have a choice! Lucinda wouldn’t leave Jamie alone! She didn’t love him like I do! No one loves him like I do!” Eugenia advanced on Grace, refocused on her mission. “Especially not you.”

  Grace gave a high-pitched laugh. “Well you’re right about that! My love for Jamie is nothing like your crazy fixation. It’s real and so is his love for me.”

  Eugenia barely heard her. “I thought Clara and Anabel were going to be problems for me. I planned to rid myself of them, once and for all. …But then you showed up and I realized they were nothing. Even Lucinda was nothing, compared to you.”

  Somehow Grace didn’t think that was a compliment. “Umm…”

  Eugenia made an emphatic gesture with the knife, indicating that she wanted silence. “After all I’ve been through, my slut of a sister was actually right. She wasn’t the one he was waiting for.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re all he can think about now. I see it in his eyes when he looks at you. He wants to marry you. You’re the one I have to stop.”

  This was seriously not going well. “You can try to kill me, but it won’t do any good. Jamie still won’t be your Partner.” Grace surreptitiously fumbled with her apron. “He belongs to me and he always will.”

  That was not what Eugenia wanted to hear. “Sooner or later, he’ll see that I’m the one who loves him! Deep down he already knows it, but you’re keeping him from me!”

  “At least, I didn’t let him hang for crimes that I committed. That’s how much you loved him. You’d rather see him die than fess up to being a lunatic.”

  Eugenia had no idea what that meant, but it didn’t seem to matter. Her eyes were wild. “I think Clara saw the truth about you from the start. I think you are a witch! I think you’ve put a spell on Jamie to lure him from me!”

  Grace’s hand curled around the small vial that she had hidden in her pocket. She’d taken it off Loyal’s shelf in case Plan B was the only option and they needed to kidnap Clara, but now it was about to save her life.

  “I’m not a witch.” She told Eugenia very clearly. “I’m a Rivera.” She threw the knockout powder, feeling triumph at her easy victory. She scrambling out of range as the green mist exploded all over the other woman and waited for it to do its work.

  Except… Why was it green?

  Grace’s feeling of satisfaction faded into confusion. Knockout powder was supposed to be purple. Even Grace knew that and she hated magic so much she hadn’t even watched the stupid Harry Potter movies.

  There was only one explanation for the green dust settling all over Eugenia: Whatever Grace just used, it was the wrong spell.

  Darn it, why did her family have to make everything so complicated? The clay vial had read “tired powder” right on the side of it. “Tired powder” as in “sleeping powder” as in “frigging knockout powder,” right? She’d checked, before she took it.

  At least, she thought it said “tired.”

  Loyal’s old-fashion handwriting wasn’t exactly Times New Roman. Had she misread the label? If so what had she just doused Eugenia in? Grace actually checked her pockets, as if another vial might somehow have snuck into her apron. All she came up with was the magnifying glass. This wasn’t good. As far as Grace knew no enchanted powders were green. Well, except the fabled and probably-phony…

  Troll powder.

  Oh God.

  Grace’s gaze slashed back up to Eugenia, her lips parting in horror as the other woman began to transform right in front of her. She might have skipped the Harry Potter films, but she’d seen Avengers and she knew what the Incredible Hulk looked like. Eugenia’s body got bigger and greener and hairier as the powder seeped into her system. Her demure black dress ripped along the seams as she grew. Cunning intelligence stayed in Eugenia’s eyes, but now she was about six times her normal dimensions.

  Grace had just super-sized a serial killer.

  Eugenia let out furious bellow of animalistic hatred.

  “Sorry!” Grace blurted out. “Sorry about that. It totally wasn’t what I was going for.”

  Eugenia didn’t seem appeased. Grace’s
words to Serenity back at the shop had been one-hundred percent correct: Nobody wanted to become a troll.

  Grace winced as Eugenia slammed a wrathful fist against the ground hard enough to shake it. “Umm… Yeah.” She considered her options for a heartbeat and then took off running. What else was she supposed to do?

  It seemed like a lousy idea to lead a raving lunatic straight into to the 4th of July celebration, so she went in the opposite direction. Darting around Eugenia’s massive body, she headed for the armory.

  Why couldn’t the powder make people into those cute tolls from Frozen? At least then there would be songs and snowman hugs.

  Eugenia grabbed at Grace, hotdog-sized fingers barely missing her throat. She caught hold of the tour guide costume instead and Velcro ripped free. The apron came off of her, tripping Grace. She tumbled to the ground, the magnifying glass falling from her pocket and landing next to her.

  Crap, crap, crap!

  If she got out of this alive, she was going to make sure troll powder stayed extinct. No way were they ever going sell this stuff on the open market, no matter how much her family wanted to drive Madam Topanga out of business. It would end up in nothing but lawsuits, and flattened cities, and tears.

  Eugenia dragged Grace closer, no doubt intent on crushing her bones to make bread.

  Without even stopping to think, Grace grabbed the magnifying glass and smashed the lens against one of rocks lining the walkway. Clutching the largest shard, she stabbed it into Eugenia’s hand. The jagged edge sank deep into green flesh. Eugenia let out a roar of pain, loosening her grip enough that Grace was able to squiggle away.

  Meanwhile, down below, the gigantic troll was not going unnoticed by the townsfolk. Clara Vance’s irritating voice let out an even more irritating screech. “Witch!” It was her favorite word, so of course that was the explanation she went with. “Eugenia Wentworth has been the witch, all along! I told you! I told you all along! Look at her!”

  Like Japanese crowds spotting Godzilla, Harrisonburg-ians pointed, screamed, and ran for their lives. All very unhelpful. But, on the plus side, it was a sure bet no one was planning to lynch Jamie anytime soon. Not with Eugenia charging around like a character from World of Warcraft.

  “Grace!” Jamie shouted, battling the exodus to reach her. “What the bloody hell is going on!?”

  Grace was too winded to answer that. She clambered to her feet and aim what little magic she knew at Eugenia. The menstrual cramp spell hit like a freight train, but instead of providing soothing, relaxing, drugged-out comfort, it seemed to do the exact opposite. Troll powder apparently reacted badly with other magic. Maybe that was why the recipe was forgotten in her time. Or possibly it was forgotten because it had no practical purpose outside of a demolition derby.

  Either way, all the menstrual cramp spell did was give Eugenia’s troll-self a raging case of PMS. It slowed her down, but it sure didn’t make her happy.

  Grace cringed at Eugenia’s wrathful bellow. This was exactly why spells sucked.

  “Grace!” Jamie fought his way up the hill and grabbed her arm. “What happened? Are you alright? What’s…?”

  “Move!” She yelled and shoved him towards the armory. It was the only place that seemed even halfway safe. The walls were made of solid stone. “I accidently turned Eugenia into a rampaging monster.”

  Jamie took the news better than most men would have. “Holy shit!” His head whipped around to stare at Eugenia’s colossal form, trying to piece together what had happened to the formerly blah-looking Sunday school teacher. “Rivera Doomsday Spell?” He guessed after a beat.

  “Troll powder.”

  He shot Grace an amazed look. “I can’t believe you once asked me if I was bored around you, woman.” He got the door to the armory opened and ushered her inside. “Okay. So do you have a plan on how we deal with this? Or shall we just leave this accursed town to Shrek?”

  “You’re hilarious.” Grace leaned against the heavy wooden door and looked around.

  The armory had circular walls, all of them covered in the town’s stockpile of swords, muskets, and pistols. A wooden staircase led to a loft, where the gunpowder was kept in huge barrels. Back in the twenty-first century, it was the only spot in Harrisonburg that bored teenage boys enjoyed visiting. Rewinding two-hundred years into the past, it looked pretty much the same, except the weapons were actually working, sharp, and/or dangerous. Sadly, none of them looked like they would make much of a dent in Eugenia’s green hide.

  Grace swallowed hard. “Unless there’s a bazooka lying around in here, we still have a big problem.”

  “Why is Eugenia Wentworth trying to kill us?” Jamie demanded, trying to catch up. “I was only gone for ten minutes. What the hell did I miss?”

  “She’s trying to kill me. Not you. She’s a lunatic stalker, who thinks you’re her soulmate. She’s been taking out the competition, one dance partner at a time, and I’m next on the hit list.”

  Jamie blinked at that CliffsNotes version of the crazy. “Eugenia is the killer? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  “Does it look like the Jolly Green Giant is kidding around out there?”

  “But I never showed even a modicum of interest in that humorless girl!” Jamie’s eyebrows compressed, like he was looking for some kind of logic in the horribly, tragically, completely illogical. “Why would she kill her own sister because of me?”

  “She didn’t do anything because of you.” Grace corrected, not wanting him to somehow blame himself for any of this. “Eugenia killed her own sister because she’s a sick, frigging nut-bag. Don’t get caught up in her madness, Jamie. My professional diagnosis is she’s a narcissistic, sociopathic, bat-shit crazy bitch.”

  His mouth gave a reluctant quirk. “I’m always strangely comforted when you start cursing.”

  “You’re welcome. Now help me figure out a way to escape the big, huge, troll doll outside.” Grace tried to think. How were they going to stop Eugenia from…? Her attention fell on the largest weapon in the armory. Hang on. Maybe there was something in 1789 that could cause some real damage. “Jamie? Tell me about the cannons on your ship.”

  He followed her gaze and made a considering face. “Well, they’re a lot like that one, actually.” He said in a far more optimistic tone.

  “So you can fire it?”

  “I’m a pirate, love. What do you think?”

  Clearly melting-your-brain sex was just one of the many benefits of dating this guy. She arched a brow. “I think we should blast Eugenia back to Middle Earth and set sail Jamaica.”

  “I love the way your mind works.” Jamie headed over to a stack of cannon balls, which were the size of grapefruit. “We need to get Eugenia in front of the door and then her shoot right through the wood. It’ll be far easier to aim, if she’s closer.”

  “Somehow I don’t think it’s going to take a lot to lure her over here.” In fact, Eugenia was already trying to knock through the wall. “Is setting off a canon in here going to light the whole armory on fire?”

  Jamie mulled that over for a beat. “Probably not.” He finally decided.

  “Probably not?”

  “Well, I doubt anyone’s ever tried it before, so I can’t say for certain. I’ve yet to set my ship ablaze, if that makes you feel any better.”

  “It really doesn’t.” Grace shook her head, not sure whether to scream or laugh. “For real, this kind of stuff doesn’t happen to normal people, right?”

  He flashed her a swashbuckling grin. “Nope. Just to odd-ducks like you and me, lass.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Grace blew out a long breath and gave up even pretending she was anything but a Rivera. “Okay, then.” She pointed towards the door, flinching as Eugenia tried her best to knock the building down around them. “Fire when ready, Captain.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  June 28, 1789- Eugenia and I were just arguing, again. Either the girl is developing a sense of humor or she’s lost her mind! Y
ou should have heard the nonsense she was spouting!

  From the Journal of Miss Lucinda Wentworth

  The cannon’s detonation was deafening.

  Even with her hands plastered over the sides of her head to muffle the noise, Grace still felt like her eardrums ruptured when the blast went off. The cannon rolled backwards on its wheels, as a Newtonian response to the force of the discharge. The iron ball tore through the oak door of the armory, leaving a massive hole in the wood.

  Jamie and Grace ducked their heads in unison to peer through it, gauging the success of their plan.

  Good news: The cannonball struck Eugenia-the-Troll right on her broadside.

  Better news: It sent the lunatic rolling down the hill like a big, green log.

  Best News: The cannon firing didn’t send the whole armory sky high.

  “It worked!” Grace smiled widely. “I take back everything I said about you being a lackluster pirate. That was kind of awesome.”

  “Kind of awesome? I just shot a troll with a cannon, lass. I’m amazingly awesome.” The force of the blast had bent the hinges of the door and Jamie used his shoulder to force it open. “Now that she’s wounded, we might actually have a chance of surviving this damnable night. …Unless the town tries to execute us again.”

  “I don’t think anyone’s going to be in the mood to lynch us.” Grace followed him into the gathering darkness. “Especially not you. We can definitively prove that you’re not the killer, now. No matter what happens next, we’ve cleared your name, once and for all.”

  “Thrilling.” Jamie didn’t sound thrilled. He sounded like he was ready to instigate some mob justice of his own. “Stay behind me, understand?”

  The cannonball hadn’t penetrated Eugenia’s magically-reinforced, troll-y skin, but it did seem to knock some of the enchantment out of her. However Troll Powder worked, it didn’t seem to last long. Especially not in the face of massive projectiles. The spell was already dissipating as they made their way down the hill. The green color was fading from Eugenia’s flesh, the normal-sized features returning to her face.