by Ghost Night
“Oh, please,” Bartholomew said. “You are not all sharing a mental experience, or conjuring the same imaginary friend.”
Vanessa smiled and laughed easily. “No. Now I know,” she told him. She spoke to him fondly.
Well.
“You…should have told me that you…that you knew there might be some things that were—unexplainable,” Vanessa said. “It would have helped me a lot.”
He got up and walked around the table to her, taking her hands. “Vanessa…trust me, if I hadn’t thought that…well, seriously, you know…most people can’t see Bartholomew.”
“Frankly, I was stunned,” Bartholomew said.
“I—think we’re at a point where we need to trust one another,” Vanessa said.
He kissed her gently on the lips. “Yes, but you must understand—”
“Oh, yes. I do. Just as you really need to understand that I came here not knowing that Jay and the others would show up—and that when you think about it, it’s not odd at all,” she said solemnly.
He pulled her to her feet. He smoothed her hair back. “I’ll never doubt you again,” he said softly.
“Oh, good God,” Bartholomew said. “I thought we were going out.”
They both turned to look at him.
“Never mind. I’m going out.” He looked at them, shook his head and made a tsking sound. “I shall see you when you get there.”
Vanessa wound her arms around Sean’s neck and kissed him. A few minutes later, he told her huskily that if they were going to leave, they needed to go. And they did.
O’Hara’s was insane that night, inside. People had heard about the excitement of finding a pendant from the ill-fated Santa Geneva that had once graced the neck of Dona Isabella, and then the discovery of a body in a chest—and the theft of the body in the trunk. For a while, as everyone arrived, they stayed inside, but when they had all gathered at last, Jamie suggested the patio, a private area in the back, and they all agreed.
Everyone in their group who would be heading out the following day was there.
Clarinda was doing her first night as a karaoke hostess, and despite her innate shyness, she was doing very well.
They could hear the singers and the music faintly, and the night was typically beautiful, not really cool but not hot.
Vanessa sipped a Guinness, enjoying the taste and leaned back against Sean, oddly relaxed. She’d seen a ghost.
And the ghost had proved to be real, or a real mass hallucination. Apparently, Bartholomew had actually been Katie’s ghost and helped out in David’s time of trouble; though Liam wasn’t really in on actually seeing and conversing with the ghost, he knew there was something.
And as crazy as it sounded, she wasn’t frightened anymore—she was in awe. It was actually something of a dream come true, actually conversing with someone who had lived almost two centuries ago. He had told her his own sad story, which had connected bizarrely with David’s, and then he had told her that somehow, he knew it just wasn’t right for him to leave yet—follow the light to wherever it might bring him—because he felt he was still needed on Earth. Which was really fine now, because after years and years and years, he had finally met the lady in white, his Lucinda, who had been a lonely figure walking up and down Duval and haunting the cemetery for years—afraid to reach out to others. Bartholomew had no explanation as to why some people had a sense of something, and some actually saw ghosts. Some saw particular ghosts and not others and, of course, there were plenty of ghosts to be seen! The streets of Key West were often riddled with ghosts; after all, people had been dying there forever.
Bartholomew hadn’t come to O’Hara’s with them; he was determined to join the film project, and so he would spend the night with his beautiful Lucinda.
Vanessa was leaning against Sean. They sat at one of the benches horse-style and it was easy and comfortable to lean against his back.
Sean and David had spent some time delineating duties for each member of the crew and assigning boats. Then Sean lifted his beer. “To success—and safety!” he said.
They all toasted.
The conversation turned to the chest Vanessa had discovered—and the stolen mummified body.
“What if,” Jay said, thinking as he went, “what if…what if it was Dona Isabella? The anthropologist might have been wrong. Maybe they dressed her up in peasant garb. Maybe she broke free herself, and was going to come after everyone in…revenge for what happened to her?” he asked, wide-eyed.
“Jay!” Vanessa snapped. “That’s…ridiculous. Mummies don’t come to life, and why would Dona Isabella want revenge on anyone living? You’re talking as if you’re plotting out another horror movie, and we’re doing a documentary.”
“It would be a great and creepy premise,” Barry said.
“A sequel!” Zoe said.
Vanessa glared at her. “There isn’t going to be a sequel—there was never really a movie. Therefore, you can’t have a sequel.”
“Well, actually…” Jay said.
Vanessa felt her muscles tighten up with tension. It had been a nice night—thus far. Sipping Guinness, munching on O’Hara’s specials such as Shillelagh Sticks—rolled and baked corned beef in pastry—and Tam O Shanters—something like sliders. Such a nice night. She’d been so amazed—and pleased—about Bartholomew. She’d been so happy to be with Sean. And now…
“Jay, what are you talking about?” she demanded.
He flushed, and lifted his hands uneasily. “I’ve had a call from a rep with a national distributor. He thinks we have a surefire hit—especially with everything else that went on.”
Vanessa sat up, staring at Jay. “Jay—our lead actors were murdered.”
“Bad things have happened before and movies have still come out and been very successful—and it was really a wonderful chance for fans to say goodbye,” Jay said, defending himself.
“When the leads were murdered?” Vanessa asked icily.
“I’m sure somewhere along the line, yes…but think of the real things out there! Poor Heather O’Rourke of Poltergeist died very young—and they’ve used her scenes in tacky advertisements! When they filmed the Twilight Movie years ago, a star and two children were killed, and it aired. People said goodbye to Bruce Lee, Brandon Lee, Heath Ledger and many more actors when their movies aired after their deaths.”
Vanessa felt Sean holding her back, but she stood anyway, walking over to Jay. “That would be the height of bad taste, and I put my money into that film, too, and I won’t allow it.”
“That’s great for you—you’ve hit jobs that pay well. I need to make some money, Nessa,” Jay pleaded.
“Jay, it’s wrong.”
Sean stepped into it then. “Well, the surviving members of your crew are here, Jay. Why don’t you find out how they all feel?”
Bill spoke up first. “All right, I was more or less a lowly production assistant on the shoot. But…I liked Georgia and Travis. And they have family living now. Family—who might be hurt.”
Barry cleared his throat. “I don’t know what I feel. Georgia wanted to be a star. And she survived in the movie. She might be happy.”
“Yeah, Georgia was sweet. Dumb, but sweet,” Zoe said. “But Travis…Travis was a jerk.”
“Zoe!” Bill gasped, horrified.
“Hey, I’m sorry—it’s horrible that he died the way he did, yes. But was he a nice guy? No!”
“My money was in it, Jay,” Vanessa said. “And I say no.”
Jay inhaled and stared at her. He exhaled and took a long sip of his beer, and looked at her again. “What if we find out what happened?” he asked.
“What?” she said.
“We all came here. We heard about Sean and David and their project, and we all came here. Doesn’t that mean something? We all care, we were all horrified. Vanessa, I own the majority share—fifty-one percent.”
“You slimy basta—” she began.
“Wait, please!” Jay said. “Let’s see what
we can discover on this documentary project. And then, if there’s really a story to be told about what happened to us, it would only be right to release the movie that we filmed.”
Sean leaned forward. “Jay, if you want to throw threats around, you’ll note that David and I own this particular project.”
Jay’s jaw fell. He hadn’t thought that he might get kicked off the new project.
Sean smiled pleasantly. “We didn’t draw up any contracts.”
“I’m not threatening anyone. I’m just…I’m just mentioning facts,” Jay said.
“And so am I,” Sean told him politely.
Jay looked at Vanessa pleadingly. “Will you think about it when this project is done?”
The conversation had been bouncing between them with everyone there staring at them. She didn’t want to get into a huge fight with Jay that would naturally begin to involve all the others. The whole project could become an antagonistic disaster by the morning. She didn’t want any hostility on the trip or involved with the filming.
For a moment, Vanessa felt the silence that fell among the group.
“You’re right,” she said. “Let’s see what happens on this trip. If we find out something new about what happened, if there is a prayer of solving the murders, then I’ll think about it. But if we find nothing at all and their deaths remain mysteries, Jay—please. Let’s shelve it.”
Jay looked at her, then looked away. “All right.”
“Promise,” Vanessa insisted.
“I promise,” he said dourly.
There was a silence again. Then Katie stood, raising her glass. “Here’s to great camaraderie and a wonderful work experience. Here’s to tomorrow!”
Again, glasses clinked, and they all toasted one another. The joy of the evening had faded, though, and soon, one by one, they were taking leave.
As they walked home, Sean told Vanessa, “You know, I can fire his ass now, if you want.”
She looked at him and flashed a smile. “No, Jay is good. And he promised, and he is my friend.”
“He’s your broke friend, it sounds like. And in a way, he has a point. I agree with you, but he has a point. Here’s the thing that I’ll say in his defense—he didn’t try to cash in on a tragedy. He had invested his life’s savings into that movie. He didn’t rush out and try to give it to anyone right after it happened.”
“You think he’s right?” Vanessa protested.
Sean shook his head. “Me? I don’t think I could do it—not when both of the victims were so young, not when they had family still living.” He slipped his arm around her. “Titanic the musical played on Broadway. I thought that a musical based on such a horrific event was in terrible taste. Katie wanted to see it, so the family went. And it was actually something that I wound up enjoying, that gave a certain honorable memorial to many of the people involved. Much better than the movie!” he told her, smiling gently.
“Sean—this was a slasher flick.”
“I know. Anyway, let’s get home and get some sleep, shall we?”
They didn’t get to sleep right away. They made love again, and it still seemed so amazing and new, and there was still so much they had to learn about one another. When she drifted to sleep, she was warm, secure and comfortable, and being with him seemed like a bastion against the world. It was ridiculous to think that she could actually fall in love with anyone so quickly, and yet, in the time they had known one another, she had come to realize that now she couldn’t imagine a time without him. She had let her pride stand in the way once—he had been a jerk—but he had proven himself, coming to her, and she thought that finding the right relationship had been as hard in the past for him as it had been for her, none of which mattered, because when she was with him, feeling his warmth and the vibrant pulse of his heart so near to hers, she didn’t envision the future beyond tomorrow.
She should have slept as sweetly and deeply as she had the night before.
But the dreams came again, though they took a different twist.
She was back at O’Hara’s, sitting on the bench at the patio, and Jay was speaking again.
“What if the mummy came to, and broke out…”
Then she was walking down Duval, and it was odd, because no one was there.
She was alone.
And then she wasn’t.
The streets were filled with pirates. She told herself that naturally the pirates were there. Pirates in Paradise was happening, and there were events to the last minute, and even then, some people stayed and dressed up, loath to get back to reality.
But they weren’t real pirates.
They were ghosts.
Ghosts existed.
They walked along, some in a hurry, some strolling together. Some talked and teased with wenches, some joked with one another. They strode, they swaggered, and one limped on a peg leg. They paid her no heed.
Then she heard carriage wheels. They seemed to come slowly, ominously. The sky blackened and a chill fog sprang out from the sea. The mist whirled in shades of gray, and the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves came ever more slowly.
She turned, aware that the carriage was coming to a halt, and that it was coming to a halt near her.
Or perhaps it was coming for her.
A woman, an elegant woman in silk and high fashion, stepped from the carriage, her every movement in slow motion. She looked straight at Vanessa, and Vanessa knew her. She knew the mermaid pendant the woman wore around her neck, and she knew the face—she had seen it on a figurehead that had led her to strange discoveries beneath the sea.
“You must help. You must listen. You must find the truth,” the woman said. She smiled at Vanessa, and produced a hatbox. She opened the hatbox, and lifted something.
It was Georgia Dare’s head.
“Vanessa!” Georgia cried to her pathetically.
Dona Isabella let the head fall back into the hatbox. She looked around her. Vanessa did the same. The pirates on the street were changing. They seemed to turn into black ooze. They cried out and screamed, and seemed as if they were moving in a black, malevolent mass toward the woman and the carriage.
The wind began to whip up. Vanessa knew that she had to wake up; the evil pirates were coming for Dona Isabella, but she was in their way.
“Here, here!” came a cry.
She turned.
And it was the mummy. The mummy from the pirate’s chest.
The face was leathered and dark and decayed. The hands were bony, with dead skin stretched out over them far too tightly. The clothing was stained and ripped, and the eye sockets were empty, nothing but black stygian pits.
“Come, come!” the mummy cried.
Her jaw fell open in horror. The bony fingers were coming closer and closer to her.
“No!” she whispered.
“Yes!” Someone was behind her. She felt the presence and spun around in terror.
The street was still dark; the carriage bearing Dona Isabella away was beginning to move. It was still in slow motion, yet it was trying so hard to pick up speed. Dona Isabella was running now from the wrath of the pirates. She sought escape, as she hadn’t found in the past.
Vanessa thought that she should have leaped into the carriage.
Because now she was caught between the mummy…
And the living, breathing man behind her.
Carlos Roca. She stared at him.
“Am I seeing you? Are you dead? Did you kill them, Carlos, did you have us all fooled?” she demanded.
He stood there, frozen in silence.
“I am alive,” he told her. “And I am innocent.”
He looked at the black shadows. “Come with me!”
“Come, come quickly!” the mummy begged.
She spun around. The mummy was there. So pathetic. So sad.
“Vanessa, you know me!” Carlos said.
Yes, she knew him, and he was there. Was he really alive, and was he running, too, or was he part of a black swirling mass of ooze a
nd evil that was winding slowly down the street, ready to devour her…?
“You don’t understand,” the mummy said.
And the dead, leathered fingers, bones sticking out, nearly touched her…. She screamed.
And awoke.
And Sean was with her, holding her in his arms, smoothing back her damp hair, whispering words of assurance.
She felt the terror of the dream slip away from her, and she felt the strength of his arms. She ceased to shake and she turned him. “I’m so sorry…I didn’t think…when I was with you…”
He touched her face. “I’m not the monster in the dream, right?”
She laughed shakily. “No.”
“Then it’s much better to have nightmares with me than without me, right? Although,” he admitted, “these nightmares seem to plague you so cruelly, a therapist might be in order.”
“I had a therapist once,” she said. “It didn’t help.”
He rocked with her in silence for a minute, then said, “Then somehow, we have to find the truth. Catch a killer. And put the past to rest.”
The morning was a whirlwind of activity. There were dozens of air tanks that needed to be stowed, and though David had overseen the loading of the boats with grocery supplies, ice, film, memory cards, cords, computer needs, batteries, flashlights, flares and every conceivable necessity, they all had their personal gear to stow, as well.
Jamie had David and Katie, Liam, Barry and Bill and Jake aboard the Claddagh. Sean had Vanessa, Jay, Ted and Jaden, Marty and Zoe aboard the Conch Fritter.
And Bartholomew, of course.
The boats would follow one another through the day, hugging the Intracoastal up to Jewfish Creek, and heading out to the Atlantic at Key Largo. David and Barry would take turns with the camera during the day on the Claddagh while Sean, Jay, and Vanessa would trade off on the Conch Fritter. They would drop anchor that night southwest of Miami, and in the morning start filming at the first reef where the previous crew had begun their offshore work. Sean felt that he had had enough of Pirate’s Cut and that they should start filming in other areas. He had the Marty footage and the footage that Vanessa and Jay had already shot at Pirate Cut.