by Eliza Lainn
He sighed again. “I would like to, yes. But I would also like to keep an eye on Noah.”
I didn’t even try to hide the surprise in my voice at that. “Noah?”
“Your account of what happened in the graveyard is troubling. Equally so is his lack of regret for what happened.”
“I didn’t say he seemed unregretful.”
“No, but you said he left. Without bothering to check in on the missing girl. And, considering he’ll be going along on this case, he doesn’t seem to be in a period of mourning for his actions either. It leads me to speculate that he’s not regretful for what he did. If so, I don’t want him attempting to try and exorcise another spirit again.”
“Easy there, Sherlock. You’re making a lot of assumptions.”
“Perhaps,” he allowed, “but I’m still unsettled by his behavior. I wish to go.”
“You really don’t trust us living souls, do you?” I joked.
He chuckled. “Yes, well, Bronte and Rose seem to be alright. Maybe by my going, I can keep your penchant for recklessness from influencing them.”
“How rude.”
He chuckled again. “And Oliver does make an excellent point.”
“Such as?”
“It will be dreadfully boring without the two of you here.”
I sighed and shoved myself upright. “Well, with an argument like that, how can I say no?”
Chapter Three
“Do you think the TSA will ever come up with ghost regulations?” Bronte whispered as we inched closer to the security checkpoint. The four living members of the team all had our shoes in our hands, with our jewelry and belts dangling loose, ready to be sent through the X-ray conveyer belt. The ghosts had floated through already and were waiting for us on the other side.
Rose, ahead of her, leaned back. “Maybe they secretly do?” she whispered in a mock suspenseful tone.
I rolled my eyes to hide my nerves. Joking aside, I knew they were just as nervous as I was. Only they weren’t the ones feeling the weight of the pocket watch in their back pocket.
Not that I expected the TSA agent to really do anything about the watch. Maybe give me a puzzled look as to why a twenty-something girl carried an antique pocket watch around like a cell phone. But there weren’t rules against it. Yet.
We’d decided to give me the watch. And the group had voted to allow me to use my powers to give a gentle nudge if it looked like the watch might be confiscated for some reason. Well, Rose, Bronte and myself had voted in favor. Noah had abstained by grunting then leaving the room.
In front of me, Bronte walked up to an open agent. She passed him her driver’s license and boarding pass. Then he bent over and examined them.
Beside him, Rose slid through and the surly agent waved me forward. I stepped up to her podium and passed her my own driver’s license and boarding pass.
“Going on vacation?” she asked with the most bored, flat voice I’d ever heard.
“Part business, part vacation,” I mumbled.
Her eyes continued to roam over my driver’s license. “Beaches must be nice.”
God, she sounded like Roz from Monsters, Inc. “I’m more of a skiing fan myself.”
She nodded slowly. So slowly that I had the time to think of Flash, the sloth from Zootopia, and wonder if this woman might be the love child between the two…and then fantasize about the wedding.
Wordlessly, she passed me my documents and then waved me toward the conveyer belt. I slid through, dunking my shoes, belt, and jewelry into one of the little baskets. Then I carefully took out the pocket watch and laid it on top.
Another agent waved me through the metal detector. I stood in the cylinder contraption, hands held over my head, and watched as the pocket watch disappeared into the mouth of the X-ray machine.
The belt stopped.
Rewound backward.
Moved an inch.
“Ma’am,” the agent said insistently.
I jumped, realized I was clear to go, then scurried through. He gave me an odd look, and for a panicked moment, I thought he might stop me.
The last thing I wanted was to be patted down by a TSA agent while two ghosts watched. Because, more than likely, said ghosts wouldn’t understand. And before anyone could explain to them what was happening, things would be flying.
I scurried faster, heading for the belt.
The agent behind the machine poked his head out. “That your watch?”
“Y-yes.”
He nodded. “It’s cool. Where’d you get it?”
I let out a shaky breath. “Yard sale. My roommate bought it for me.”
“Right on.” This he disappeared behind the machine again.
The conveyer belt slid my items to me. I grabbed the baskets and hurried away from the still-suspicious looking agent. In faster than I would have thought possible, I had everything back in its place and the watch nestled safely in my pocket.
“Try and tone down the frantic suspicion,” Rose suggested playfully as I stepped up to her, Bronte, and Noah. “If you please.”
I felt jittery. Like I’d overdosed on caffeine. “We are never flying with ghosts again.”
Oliver’s voice sounded behind me and I jumped. “Stella, what are those?”
I turned so that my back was to the agents. They’d moved on, no longer interested in my sketchy self, but I didn’t want to tempt fate by seemingly talking to nothing. “What’s what? Bronte, where is he pointing?”
Bronte looked up and then followed Oliver’s direction to a vending machine plugged into the far wall. “It’s a vending machine.”
“Yes, but it’s full of boxes of wires,” he said.
“Power cords,” I clarified. “They charge things. Like my laptop and cell phone.”
“Oh.” His frown deepened in his voice. “I thought you bought them from stores.”
“Generally, but sometimes people forget theirs and this is easier than them going to a store. And it saves space for other stores, like restaurants and book stands.”
“As fascinating as this must be,” Noah mumbled, “don’t you think we need to head to our gate?”
He took off without waiting for us.
Rose rolled her eyes. “Do you think he realizes the airport has eight gates? That we can make it there in less than five minutes—and that’s if we channel our inner turtles?”Oliver chuckled. “I like her.”
Rose headed off after Noah, her rolling carry-on clicking on the tile floor behind him. Bronte moved next, glancing up at what I assumed were the ghosts as she did.
“He seems tense,” Cyril said from nearby.
I shrugged, reached into my carry-on, and pulled out my earbuds. I slid them into my phone and tucked the earbuds into place. Now if handful of people waiting for flights saw me talking to thin air, they’d assume I was on the phone. “Maybe he is? After all, he’s about to be in a plane with two, ahem, individuals who aren’t his biggest fan.”
“Does he think we plan on throwing him from the airplane in midflight?”
“Have you thought about it?”
“That’s beside the point,” he muttered.
I resisted a smile as I came up to where they’d camped out in front of the gate. A few other travelers were there, spread out in the few rows of seats nearby. Rose and Noah sat by each other, but Bronte was another seat away. I moved to sit beside her, giving Rose and Noah space.
“Do you think it’s the first time they’ve been on a plane?” Bronte asked, leaning in closer so she could whisper.
“It is,” Cyril answered.
I nodded and Bronte brightened. “It’ll be exciting! I loved my first airplane ride.”
“Do you think we could fly outside the plan?” Oliver wondered aloud. “And we’ll be brought along by the watch’s boundary?”
“Better not test it,” I mumbled, thinking about the air force ripping the ghosts away from the watch, their forms dematerializing because they’d ventured too far from the watch.
Not that I knew that was what happened—it was more of a worst-case scenario.
“I agree. We should stay within the confines of the plane.”
“Alright,” Oliver grumbled sourly. “But what’s the point of being undead if we can’t live a little?”
That one brought a snorting chuckle out of me, drawing the attention of a few passengers nearby. Bronte leaned forward, eyebrow arched in a question, and I repeated what Oliver had said.
She leaned back, a smile lighting her face. “You know, we should travel with ghosts more often. They’re entertaining.”
“Glad to be of service,” Oliver chuckled.
Chapter Four
“I said I’m sorry,” Oliver grumbled again, his voice floating near my ear. “But really, how was I supposed to know the flight attendant had slightly impacted perceptions?”
“Maybe when he kept shivering as you flew through him,” I hissed.
I marched through the gate and into the terminal, away from the ghosts and my friends, too annoyed to slow down or stop. We’d nearly been busted on the plane. Ok, well, not really. You couldn’t exactly bust a ghost for stowing away on an airplane.
But the flight attendant had kept shuddering as Oliver flew through him. His eyes had widened when he heard Rose and Bronte excitedly talking about the case. He had kept glancing over his shoulder at the four of us. And I’d definitely seen him whispering to another one of the flight attendants.
“I’m sorry,” Oliver said again.
“If we’re put on a no-fly list because you kept running through the aisle like…like some kind of child, then I’m going to kill you,” I snapped.
Rose finally caught up, catching the tail-end of my threat. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure they can’t put you on the list for that.”
I rolled my eyes. Optimists.
Cyril’s voice came from my other side. “It won’t happen again.”
“Some help you were,” I grumbled.
Apparently, Bronte had seen Cyril staring out the windows for most of the trip. He’d floated through the cabin, getting different views of the ground beneath us and the sky around us.
“Just relax,” Rose said.
I whirled around, ready to lash out at her, when I spotted Noah over her shoulder.
For a second, I thought I’d go up to him and complain. He’d be on my side, no doubt.
Then I caught the vacant expression on his face. He kept walking, straight past me, and headed down the terminal towards the exit.
Ok, maybe he wouldn’t be on my side, no doubt.
Rose sighed, watching as he left. Then she hurried to catch up with him.
“Ok,” I admitted aloud, causing someone hurrying past me to slow down, wondering if I was speaking to him. I waited until he turned and kept walking before I continued. “Ok, Cyril, I see what you mean. He’s acting strangely.”
“He would have relished the opportunity to scold us.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, pushing up my glasses as I did. Bronte came up beside me. “I think that went well,” she grinned.
I gave her an exasperated look. “You didn’t see the flight attendant shivering?”
“Oh, that. Yeah, that could have been handled better. We need to be more prepared on the flight home to not have the ghosts fly through anyone. I meant Noah not trying to exorcise the ghosts just because he was annoyed. Though, truth be told, I think I might prefer him previously to now. He’s acting…distant.”
“Yeah. Cyril picked up on that too. And if we could get Oliver to stop running around like a child, I’m sure he’d notice it too.”
“Hey,” Oliver whined.
Bronte frowned at the same time. “Why do you think he’s acting that way?”
We’d told her about the graveyard. She knew everything that had happened. But being there and hearing about it second-hand are two different things. She hadn’t watched him leave afterward. Hadn’t seen him struggling to hold Esperanza against the ward the same way murderers held their victim’s head underwater.
When I didn’t answer, she turned toward me. “You think he’ll get better?”
I shrugged.
She looked back to him, watching as he kept walking away. She brightened. “I’ll try talking to him. Get him to open up to me.” Then she took off marching after our fearless leader and our resident ghost killer.
“Optimists,” I sighed, following after them.
We caught up with Rose and Noah waiting at the arrivals section, just before baggage claim. They stood with a man, obviously a chauffeur, judging from his nice suit and driving gloves. He held a stiff piece of paper in his hand, and when I drew closer, I saw it said ‘Rose Fisher and group’ on the page.
“The hotel sent someone,” Rose explained as I came up.
Then we were off, grabbing our baggage and loading it up into the fancy shuttle outside, parked right at the curb. ‘Horton Grand Hotel,’ was written on the side of the shuttle in a fancy gold flourish, with elegant gold and red accents thrown in. The plush seats inside felt cool to the touch. And the aisle of the shuttle looked as if it had been scrubbed clean just that morning.
The entire drive, Oliver babbled about what he could do to help Apparition Investigations. He ran the gauntlet from investigator, to undercover spy, to arresting officer (though I wasn’t sure how that one would work) in the time it took to roll my eyes. Then he was back to investigator, lobbing questions about if he could use his telekinesis to work the equipment.
I glanced at Noah, wondering if Oliver’s excited chatter annoyed him. But he just stared out the window, lost in his own thoughts.
When we pulled up to the hotel, two bellboys immediately jumped to action in helping us unload our luggage. Then we were whisked inside, away from the balmy cool breeze that had Rose sighing like she’d died and gone to heaven.
The interior atrium of the Horton Grand Hotel was rich, open, and bright. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, redundant considering the outside walls and ceilings were made of glass, letting in a warm shade of sunlight. Vibrant, colorful flowers decorated the beautiful Victorian furniture. The whole space felt airy, breezy. A pleasant bustle of visitors coming and going created a low din of sounds that made it seem awake and animated.
“Amazing,” Oliver breathed, then was off again asking Cyril questions, wondering what kind of ghosts we’d be hunting.
The bellboys directed us toward the check-in counter, a resplendent wooden desk that looked as if it belonged in a Victorian lord’s study rather than California. A welcoming front desk agent greeted us with a smile that oozed genuine sincerity. “Hello and welcome to the Horton Grand Hotel. Are you checking in?”
Rose smiled and then started to speak. But stopped.
Frowning, she turned and surveyed the atrium.
The front desk agent’s smile faltered.
“Rose?” I asked, touching her arm. “You ok?”
Her frown deepened for a moment as her eyes continued to search the atrium.
Then she froze.
And in half a beat she whirled around and flashed the agent a smile so dazzling I thought I might go blind. “I am so sorry about that. Yes, we’re checking in. I’m Rose Fisher—I believe I spoke with your manager on the phone?”
The agent brightened. “Just a moment,” and then she disappeared from behind the desk.
“What happened?” I asked Rose, scooting closer.
“I heard…we aren’t the only ghost hunters here.”
“What?”
I was immediately in panic mode. We had brought two ghosts with us. Surely ghost hunters would see that. What if they were psychics, like me, Bronte, and Noah? They could harm Cyril and Oliver. Or worse.
Bringing them had been a bad idea. I knew we should have left them at home.
She gave a sharp shake of her head. “Zach Birmingham is here. I’m sure of it. He does that Ghost Haunters TV show—you know, one of those Discovery Channel paranormal hunt type things. I’m positi
ve I heard him—I’ve seen that show hundreds of times. He’s here. I’m positive I heard him.”
“What does that mean? That we weren’t the only team called in?”
“More than that,” Cyril said as Rose shrugged.
It was then I realized he and Oliver had grown quiet.