Ghost Huntress Book 6: The Journey

by Marley Gibson

  “Oh, wow, this is gorgy,” I exclaim.

  “They just opened this patio up a couple of years ago. They call it The Urban Garden.”

  Looking about, there are lounge chairs, chaises, and an area to watch TV on the large screen. Most of all, there’s a small, white-draped tent overlooking a view of neighboring buildings and the London Eye off in the distance.

  “It’s perfect,” I say. “Let’s make it our place while we’re here in London.”

  Patrick pulls me to him, wraps his arm around my back, and places a kiss on my lips. He’s so warm and strong and I just want to disappear into the moment. His mouth is firm on mine and I move my lips to enjoy the feel of him so close.

  “Mmm…,” I say when we pull apart.

  “I’ve missed that,” he whispers into my hair. “We’ve been too crazed. I needs me some Kendall time.”

  I laugh and hug him tightly. “And I needs me some Patrick time.”

  A gentle breeze dances over us as we start kissing again. Nothing naughty or inappropriate, just being with the guy I’m crazy about and trying to block out the events of the evening.

  Patrick pulls back, though. “Crap.”

  “What?” I wonder what’s happened now.

  “My phone’s ringing.” He dives into his pocket and activates the screen.

  “Let it go to voice mail,” I beg.

  Patrick’s eyes grow big. “It says Kennesaw Hospital.” He clicks on the phone. “Hello? Yes, this is Patrick Lynn.”

  Silence.

  He listens.

  So do I, in his mind.

  His father’s in the emergency room. Kidney stones that have to be removed.

  “Oh, Patrick!”

  He holds up a hand to silence me. The person on the other end of the call continues. Patrick covers the phone and I hold his hand. I’m transported into the call where I hear that his dad is going to be okay. No need for Patrick to return home. Selfishly, I’m relieved. There’s no way I can deal with Christian Campbell’s machinations without Patrick by my side.

  “He’s going to be fine,” Patrick says, hanging up.

  He lowers himself into a chair and puts his head in his hands. I won’t let him wallow, though, so I pull him to me. He moves his head to my stomach and wraps his arms around me. A long, exhausted sigh escapes him and I gently rub at his head, combing my fingers through his thick, brown hair.

  “I’m so tired,” he mumbles into my shirt.

  “You should get some rest,” I say.

  His wide yawn is evident of his state of mind. “So much for Patrick and Kendall time, huh?”

  “It’s okay. It was only our first day here.” It’s too peaceful of a night to go to sleep yet. “I’m just going to sit here for a bit and take it all in.”

  He lifts up and pulls me to him again, placing a big smooch on my forehead. “You’ll be okay?”

  “I’m fine. Get some sleep.”

  Like a zombie, he wanders off, waving at me.

  “Love ya, mean it,” I call out, but I don’t think he heard me. There’s an actual ache in my chest thinking of the words that I usually toss out at most everyone. Thing is, I do love him. Like, big time. Every moment with him, each experience …only pulls me closer to him. A love deeper and more meaningful than what I felt for…

  “All alone out here?” Jason asks from behind me.

  I jump a bit, disappointed that I hadn’t felt his presence before he showed himself. “Patrick just went to bed.”

  Jason bobs his head and advances toward me. He’s wearing tan shorts and a light blue shirt that I can tell matches his eyes, even in the darkness of the London night. “It’s quite an adventurous path our summer trip has taken already. Never a dull moment in the life of psychic, Kendall Moorehead.”

  He’s too close. I need to make space. I crawl into one of the large vinyl chairs and pull my feet up on the edge. Then I wrap my arms around my legs and rest my chin on my knees, trying to fold up into the smallest space possible.

  “You don’t have to worry about me anymore, Jason.”

  He runs his hands through his hair and then sits down next to me. Stupid boy. Can’t read my body language, eh? “Oh, I think I’ll always worry about you, Kendall. Even when I was in Alaska, I thought of you.”

  I can’t help but harrumph at this admission. “Whatever, Jason.”

  He looks out over the skyline and traces his finger in the air where the outline of The Eye is spinning slowly. “It’s not whatever, Kendall. Because you’re still dragging my sister into your dramas. Over and over again. Like tonight at that lady’s house. What was that all about?”

  I bolt straight up, my feet thwacking on the deck floor. “Give me a break! Taylor is part of my team and she was invited to participate in some pretty important ghost hunting cases this summer. You’re the one who merely came along for the ride.”

  “Taylor’s not as strong as you.”

  “So says you.”

  “She can’t handle this stuff.”

  “Taylor’s fine,” I insist.

  “But will you be?” Jason turns to me, concern painted all over him. “Come on, Kendall. A demon named Dojo with the head of a snake and the body of an alien. Really? Is this why we’re in Europe? Dealing with bullshit like this?”

  I point my finger in his face. “I’ve dealt with a lot of paranormal crap since you’ve been gone, Jason. I’ve helped a lot of spirits who were lost and stuck and missing. This is no different. I’m doing this because it’s what I’m meant to do.”

  Shaking his head, “You’re going to wind up hurt.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  A long sigh escapes from him. “I can’t deal with this.”

  I grind my teeth together and then say, “I have no idea why you’re here at all.”

  Swiftly, Jason takes me by both shoulders and shakes me a bit—not in a bad way at all. “I’m here because I still care about you, Kendall. I’ve missed you so much. I can’t stop thinking about you. I hate myself for losing you. There!”

  Shock rocks me from head to toe. There was a time when I would have melted in a puddle at his feet just to hear him utter those words. Now, I’m way too stunned to move or speak or breathe or think.

  Jason draws me to him and his grip turns to a caress. “I still love you, Kendall.”

  He what?

  Before I can breathe or even comprehend the meaning, the atmosphere around us shifts. Heated energy crackles around us and I can’t move. Paralyzed by the jolt of his admission. He still loves me? He hates himself for losing me?

  Jason angles his head to the right and moves in for the kill. Then I feel his lips on mine—only for a second—and then an explosive bombshell zips through me, surprising me enough to push him back and jump to my feet.

  I wipe away his kiss with the back of my hand. “Are you kidding me? You can’t do that.”

  Jason’s eyes blaze with a passion I’ve never seen from him before. “I can’t kiss you?”

  “No! These lips don’t belong to you anymore. I’m with Patrick. Deal with that, Jason!”

  Then I shove him. Hard. Like Wonder Woman strength hard. Like someone else is helping me hard.

  “Kendall! Don’t!”

  I run past him straight for the elevator.

  I’m not aware of pushing the penthouse button, yet somehow I manage to do it.

  Key card in the lock, jerk the door open, and flee into the bathroom.

  Immediately, I twist on the cold water and begin to splash my face. A cool awakening that washes away what just happened. Or, at least I hope it does. I don’t like how his kiss made me feel. Missed. Appreciated. Loved.

  Slamming my hands to the countertop, I glare at my reflection.

  “That will never happen again.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  After a night a whole hell of a lot of tossing and turning, I reach for the teapot and fill my cup up with a second helping of English breakfast to help bring me into the real world.
/>
  “Bonjour!” Taylor sings out as she takes a seat at the table next to me in our penthouse suite. A bountiful breakfast has been delivered and is spread out before us. She reaches for a plate and heaps on scrambled eggs, slices of ham, and buttered toast. “I have never slept so wonderfully in my life. It’s like that mattress wrapped its arms around me and hugged me all night.”

  I groan inwardly, but smile at my friend. “I’m glad someone rested.” I scoop out some eggs onto my own plate and reach for a roasted tomato to go along with it.

  “Were you thinking about what happened at Mrs. Flanders’s house?” she asks.

  No, I was thinking about your stupid brother.

  “Among other things,” I answer.

  Taylor pats my arm gently. “I’m sure we’ll be able to help her out. We always help out.”

  Jessica, Celia, Jayne, and Maddie wander in and we all dig in to the breakfast feast and the chatter about last night’s investigation continues. I sip—gulp actually—my tea hoping the caffeine kicks in quickly. Anything to tamp down all of my nerves and restlessness. There’s an overall icky sensation covering me that I know is more than just Jason Tillson putting the moves on me. It’s something from the other side reaching out to me, only I don’t know who or what it is. Could it be this other person who’s watching after me, as Anona told me? Honestly, why do these spirits have to be so vague?

  The door to our suite opens and in walks Oliver, followed by Patrick, Jason, and Christian.

  “Good morning,” Oliver says to us all. “Pip-pip, cheerio, and all those other English quips.”

  “Hey, Oliver,” we all sing out in unison.

  Patrick comes up and hugs me from behind, planting a kiss on the top of my head. His hair is all boy-messy from sleep and he’s got this sexy stubble on his face like he doesn’t care. “Hey, babe.”

  I don’t even look at Jason, although I can feel his eyes on me. Christian, too, seems to be watching me. What is it with these guys? Do they all have to be so… overwhelming?

  Patrick fills a plate with a heaping serving of everything on the table and then sits down opposite from me. I concentrate on surrounding myself thoroughly with the white light to protect my thoughts and feelings. The last thing I want is for Patrick to tap into my memory of last night’s debacle.

  Oliver sets down his briefcase and reaches for a croissant and lets out a long sigh. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

  Christian sits to his right and seems as if he already knows what Oliver’s going to say. A smug assuredness overcomes him and I don’t trust him as far as I could throw him.

  “What’s up?” Celia asks, speaking up for the group.

  Oliver clears his throat. “We won’t be going back to Mrs. Flanders’s house.”

  “Why not?” I blurt out.

  “That’s fine with me,” Jess says.

  Jayne nods quietly.

  “After we left last night,” Oliver says, “she contacted her Anglican priest. He was none too pleased that she’d allowed ‘a bunch of spook hunters’ into her house and he accused us of ‘stirring up the devil.’”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Patrick says.

  “I agree,” Jess says, darting her eyes around.

  I set my tea cup down. “But Oliver, it’s clear there’s something haunting her house. They’ve had poltergeist activity, and I’m sure once we review the recordings from last night, we’ll find EVP to back that up.”

  He holds up his hand. “Kendall, I understand, but Mrs. Flanders won’t allow us back anymore. Her priest did a blessing on the house and that’s that.”

  “What did she do with the Ouija board?” Maddie asks.

  Oliver reaches over for his discarded briefcase, sets it on the table, and pops it open. Slowly, he withdraws the Ouija board that Mrs. Flanders had in her house. I gasp, as do the other girls. Jayne, in particular, shudders a bit. The young girl is definitely frightened, but she remains quiet.

  “What are you going to do with that?” Celia asks.

  Christian just snickers. “I’ll take it, Oliver. It’s been calling out to me ever since last night, so I think I should add it to my collection.”

  I’m not crazy about the notion of one Ouija board in our presence, much less two. But that’s just me.

  Oliver hands the item over to Christian. The young psychic stares directly at me, trying to penetrate my thoughts which I’ve thankfully guarded.

  Then, he says, “Mark my word. We haven’t heard the last of Dojo this summer.”

  *~*~*

  After another full day of playing tourist—watching the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace, climbing to the top of St. Paul’s Cathedral, and taking a boat ride down the Thames—there’s no time left to hash about the men who’ve invaded my life. Patrick’s in historical geek mode as we tour around, Jason’s hanging out with Celia who’s giving him her own narration of the city, and Christian is pensively hanging in the wings, seemingly bored with the architecture and antiquity of his own country. I stick with the girls, snapping photo after photo of all the great sites and posting them immediately to my Facebook page for everyone back home to see.

  Now, after a quick dinner at a friendly neighborhood pub, we’ve arrived via our chartered double-decker bus in the Kensington area of London, where our next investigation awaits us.

  Lady Margaret Hewitt, a ginormous fan of Oliver’s, greets us as we file into her gorgeous home. Actually, it’s more like a small castle in the middle of the city.

  “Aren’t you teenagers adorable. I’m so honored to have you here in my home. And Oliver, you’re my favorite psychic on the telly.”

  Oliver actually blushes at her compliment. “Now, Lady Hewitt, you do go on.”

  “How old is your house, Lady Hewitt?” Celia asks in full investigative mode.

  “The land has been in my family dating back to the fifteen hundreds,” she says proudly. “I’ve been here for thirty-nine years.”

  “What sort of paranormal activity have you been experiencing?” Maddie asks.

  Lady Hewitt takes a handkerchief from her pocket and dabs her pale, white skin. It’s apparent there’s something causing the noble woman to perspire just thinking about what’s disturbing her home.

  “There are what you’d call cold spots abounding in the house. Not just in the winter time when a chill is expected. Rather, in the middle of summertime. Like this morning. I was sitting down to my breakfast and my maid told me the pantry in the kitchen was ice cold. I stepped away from the dining room and followed her to find that, indeed, she was not exaggerating. I could see my breath when I walked into the storage space. Then, I experienced the same thing in the sitting room later this morning.”

  “It was in the nineties today,” Jessica notes.

  “No kidding,” says Jayne.

  I want to chalk up the cold spots to this simply being a drafty, stone building, but my psychic tingling senses tell me there’s something more here. A presence that’s watching and lurking. I spread my hands out wide and shut my eyes, opening myself up to whatever is here and whoever will communicate with me. Patrick is by my side immediately and takes one of my hands in his.

  I feel it too, he tells me.

  Is something following us?

  Not us. Him.

  I open my eyes and glance across the room. Christian is sitting in a large velvet chair staring off at nothing. He appears to be in a trance that has Oliver and Lady Hewitt completely fascinated.

  “Let’s do some EVP work,” Celia suggests.

  “I’ll set up my cameras,” Taylor adds.

  As our team settles into the sitting room, Oliver lowers the lights. Taylor clicks on the infrared illuminator lights on her video camera so the night vision can record our investigation. Jason plops down into a chair and holds a digital recorder that Celia has given him. At least he’s participating and not being a bump on a log, like usual.

  Patrick squeezes my hand and smiles at me. “You okay? Ready f
or this?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  But it’s a lie. Not a deliberate one. Immediately, my psychic headache begins to pound out in my temple. It’s as though it’s rush hour in my veins and all the blood is zooming to be anywhere else right now. I wince. I cringe. I shudder.

  “No, you’re not fine,” Patrick says quietly. He places his finger under my chin and lifts my eyes to his. I meet his dark brown gaze and nearly want to melt at the concern pouring from him.

  “There’s someone here.”

  He nods. “I feel it too.”

  Over his shoulder, I begin to see an apparition materializing. First, I see it’s the figure of a woman, thin and tall. Next, I notice blond hair framing a beautiful ivory profile. Distinctive nose. Noble chin. She comes into full view standing next to Lady Hewitt’s fireplace.

  I nearly choke on my gasp. “It can’t be…”

  Patrick turns. “I don’t see anything.”

  I’m overcome with a sudden awe as I swear I’m staring at the ghost of the deceased Princess Diana of Wales. I want to be a professional. I want to remain calm and in investigative mode, but I can’t do it.

  “Holy shit!” I exclaim, getting everyone’s attention. “You guys, you won’t believe this, but Princess Di is standing right over there.” I point at the fireplace.

  The ghost turns her head and smiles directly at me with her prim mouth turned up at the corner.

  “No way!” Celia shouts as Taylor flips her camera to focus on the mantle.

  Lady Hewitt inhales quickly. “The princess did live just over the way in Kensington Palace. I had the pleasure of meeting her once when she was out strolling with her boys. Lovely woman. What a tragic loss for England.”

  “But she’s right here!” I say, geeking out.

  “Talk to her, Kendall,” Oliver advises.

  Patrick laughs and nudges me ahead toward the specter.

  Not knowing how to react, I curtsey. The ghost chuckles at me and covers her mouth with her hand. “Thank you,” she says.