by Maribel Fox
“Number seven for me,” I answer without looking at the menu.
Callie makes a face, eyes flicking across the glossy page in a panic, clearly not ready.
“The usual, I guess,” she says, sounding slightly defeated.
“Don’t let me rush you if you need more time,” I say.
Callie looks at me, her expression strange and unreadable, and she shakes her head.
“The usual’s good, thanks Jude.”
Then we’re alone again.
Now or never.
No, never’s not really an option.
“So…”
“I really don’t want to talk about Trenton anymore, Miles,” Callie huffs, shoulders slumping.
Damn. I’m an asshole. I need to stop being so selfish and think about Callie. She’s not back in town to reconcile with me or get hit on and pursued. She just wants to work and I’m the only person that can help her.
“Me either,” I answer. She straightens a little, interest piqued.
Go for it.
The worst she’s going to do is not believe me, and I hardly believe me.
“If you go down tomorrow, you might see something.”
She frowns.
“Something?”
I nod.
“Those rocks… They’re linked somehow? There’s this pattern in the sand,” I try to explain by drawing on the table, but Callie’s unmoved. She shakes her head.
“Okay?”
“Not a normal or natural pattern,” I add, explaining best I can how the swirling florals shifted and moved on the bottom of the bay.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this yesterday?”
“I was kind of freaked out when my camera blew a fuse.”
Her eyes widen.
“Probably some battery malfunction, but I wasn’t sure what I saw. Maybe it’s nothing and—”
“We’ll have to map them all out. The rocks, see if the others are linked too. If there are two, there have to be more.” Suddenly her eyes are bright, and she’s got the bug. The fever to hunt for treasure. Or what she considers treasure at least.
“I don’t know for sure—”
“That’s why we have to find out,” she cuts me off, very matter of fact.
No arguing with her. She’s made up her mind.
Honestly, I’m relieved. I didn’t know how she’d take the news, but it went better than expected. She doesn’t think I’m screwing with her or hallucinating.
Of course, I still haven’t told her about the ghost on my boat.
For the rest of the meal we make plans for systematically mapping out the rocks and searching for the supposed links. It’s the most animated I’ve seen Callie and I kind of hope there is something, just because of how thrilled she would be.
But then there’s the little problem of what that something might be.
“You wanna walk?” Callie asks once we’re outside again. She stretches, rocking on the balls of her feet with a satisfied groan. “That was a big meal.”
“Sure.” No way I’m turning down the opportunity to spend more time with her. Especially if she’s offering.
“Thanks for lunch by the way. You didn’t have to pay for mine.”
I shrug. “I’ve got this gig that’s paying all the bills lately,” I tease, flashing a smile. She doesn’t send it back.
Right. Probably shouldn’t joke about money. I don’t know how she’s funding this expedition of hers, and even with every discount I can give her, the pure operating costs aren’t cheap.
The sun’s setting by the time we reach the beach, and the tide’s coming in, slowly swallowing up more and more of the shoreline. We’re not the only ones out here — those kids are here as usual, and Callie homes in on them.
“What?” I ask, catching myself before I slide an arm around her. When she shivers in the wind like that it’s damn near impossible to resist.
“Does anyone ever supervise those children?”
I snort.
“I seem to remember the two of us running around this beach alone around their age.”
She gives me an impatient look.
“It’s a safe town, Cal. Nothing ever happens here, and the B&B is just up the hill.”
Callie’s still making a face, eyes going toward the water. “It’s not the town I’m worried about. It’s dangerous out here, especially in the dark.”
It’s obvious at this point that Callie’s made up her mind to intervene, and before I can come up with a reason she shouldn’t, she’s already marching over to the kids.
“It’s really too late for you two to be out here alone,” she says, hands on her hips.
The little girl looks up, tilting her head to the side.
“We’re not alone.”
Callie huffs. “Imaginary friends don’t count, Nora. You need real adult supervision.”
Nora looks away and something in the air shifts. Callie realizes she’s done something wrong, but has no clue what, looking to me for help. I’ve got nothing.
“What did I say?” Callie asks the boy, who’s standing between the two of them like Nora’s protector.
“He’s missing,” the kid hisses. “That’s who we’re looking for.”
Dominoes fall into place in my head, but I can’t exactly say ‘hey, I know where your missing ghost is and I’m the reason he’s stuck on my boat.’ That’s a lot to unravel for all parties involved.
“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Callie says, clearly uncomfortable about the whole thing, not sure how to interact with the kids but feeling compelled to be the adult in this situation. “You really should get going home, though. The tide’s coming in and it’ll be easy to get swept away in the dark.”
“We can come look tomorrow,” Ian says to his friend. Nora hardly seems convinced, but she doesn’t argue either. When they’re halfway up the beach path, I can hear the kid’s dog barking to greet him.
“I should be heading back too,” Callie says, eyes drooping before she covers up a yawn. “We have a lot of work to start on tomorrow.”
I nod. “You’re right. Why don’t I just take you back to Brigid’s and you can get your bike tomorrow?” As much as I want to keep this day going, keep spending time with Callie, I can tell she’s tired. She’s been through a lot the past couple of days and going back to my bike to go back to hers, just for her to go back to the B&B that’s right up the hill is absurd.
She doesn’t even try to argue. “Okay,” she nods, eyes getting heavier now that she’s let it start.
We take our time hiking up the hill to the B&B, and it’s outside the main door that we both stop. I figure she’s just going to go inside, but she doesn’t. She stops and stands there, looking up at me.
“You really think there’s something down there?” she asks, voice almost a whisper.
I consider it a beat, then shrug. “I think it’s a possibility. No one’s ever looked all that hard and it seems… strange. That much I know. So do I know if there’s something down there? No. But do I think it’s worth looking into? Why the hell not?” By the time I’m done, I feel like I’ve been talking forever, and when Callie’s quiet in response, I’m sure I’ve said too much.
Out of nowhere, she kisses me.
I’m sure I’m having a stroke for a split second. I’m not, though. She’s on her tiptoes, lips pressed to mine, and by the time I can think to respond, it’s over, her whole upper body flushed.
“Thanks for last night,” she says, not making eye contact. Which is good, because I’m still reeling. My whole damn body is on fire; I feel like I’ve been in a hit and run. Before I knew what was happening it was over.
“Uh… Yeah, any time,” I mutter, really confused. She did just kiss me, right? And now we’re just acting like it didn’t happen?
“See you tomorrow,” she says before heading inside without another look back. My stomach does a flip-flop and I feel rooted in place.
Talk about weird…
I’m replaying it i
n my head over and over again the whole way back to the houseboat. It’s a decent walk from Brigid’s to the Duck for my bike, and the drive back to my cove is another opportunity to clear my head. But by the end of the journey, I’m no clearer on where I stand with Callie than I was before.
Immediately I head for the fridge, for a cold beer, but I never restocked. It’s empty, and I sink down onto the booth with a sigh, the blue stone shimmering at me. Like it’s asking me to reach out and touch it.
Hell, what I know of ghosts, it might be. I have no idea how this shit works.
I do know I’ve been avoiding him long enough. Reluctantly, I reach out to touch the shard, and the Frenchman materializes in front of me.
“You did not do as I asked,” he says immediately.
“Never said I would.”
He scoffs. “You would rather me on your dinghy, eying your women?”
I freeze.
Fuck.
I didn’t even think about him in here with Callie while she was changing. I can see all I need to know in the look on his smug transparent face, and my grip on the shard tightens.
Wonder what happens to him if I snap it in half.
“Not that I am complaining, mon ami. Je t’apprécie,” he says with an appreciative nod. I don’t need to speak French to know what he’s saying, and I don’t like the idea of him looking at Callie like that.
“Watch yourself pirate, or you might wind up in the middle of the ocean,” I warn, brandishing the stone at him, a clear threat.
I know I could be rid of him if I took this rock to the beach, but then what? I don’t imagine he’s going to stay away from Callie if he can get to her through the rocks, so is it better to keep him trapped here?
On my boat?
There’s got to be a better way.
14
Callie
My heart sinks the moment my phone beeps.
I don’t know how I know, but I know it’s Miles. My stomach’s not twisting in knots because I’m looking forward to this. Can’t just ignore it though. I’ve got to look at the phone.
Shit.
It’s Miles, I get that even before I open the message. Half of my intuition confirmed just makes my heart sink further.
Gotta cancel today’s trip. Ella needed a babysitter. Sorry.
I blow out a long breath and drop back onto the bed, tossing the phone aside, throat already tightening.
Don’t do it, I warn myself. Don’t get upset over him again.
What did I think was going to happen? Everything was fine until I made it weird. Why’d I have to do that?
I don’t really regret it though…
The phone beeps again.
Rain check tomorrow?
I swallow past the lump in my throat and take a deep, deep breath.
See you then.
There. I answered.
Now what the hell am I going to do with myself all day?
One look out the window confirms there’s already a nasty storm brewing out over the bay and it’s hardly daybreak. Don’t think I’m going to be anywhere near the water today when there are going to be monster waves crashing ashore big enough to sweep away a whole person.
No thanks.
But I’m not just going to sit in this room all day either. Last night Miles told me about some strange patterns in the sand. It’s not a lot, but it’s something. Something I can research. If those rocks have been around for any amount of time, it’s likely someone else has noticed something weird about them and written it down somewhere. I just have to find it. I’ve sent a small sample of one of the shards off to a friend of mine back at the university, but even a mass spectrometer can’t reveal all the rock’s hidden secrets.
For that, I need to research.
And what better place than the library?
Only thing is, my bike’s still at Miles’ place and the library is technically in the next town over. It’s really only a couple of miles, but in this weather, it’s not a route I want to walk. Maybe they’ve got a house bike downstairs I can borrow. It’s worth a shot. If nothing else, maybe one of the guys around here could give me a ride.
“Morning,” Ava greets me from the front desk when I round the corner from the stairs. She’s studying her laptop screen carefully, brows furrowed, deep in thought. She looks so serious and focused that I feel bad butting in, but if there’s anything worse than someone interrupting you, it’s someone just hovering around.
“Morning,” I answer, clearing my throat. “So I was wondering if you might have a bike around here I could borrow for the day? I wanted to go to the library—”
“The library?” she asks, arching one of those brows and looking up and over my way now.
“Yeah. You know I’m looking for anything of archaeological significance in the bay, and I thought it might be helpful to look at some of the town history… that kind of thing,” I say, careful not to mention the weird patterns Miles told me about. No need to over-explain, especially with something so out of the ordinary.
Ava looks thoughtful for a moment, then nods. “Yeah, I’m sure we have one around here somewhere you could use, but you know the library’s not well-stocked or anything. You might have a better shot at Alistair’s shop. He has a few books about the town that could be useful.”
“Alistair?”
She nods. “Down the hill, across from the tea shop. It’s Bathory Antiquities.”
“Thanks for the tip,” I say with a wave. I won’t need a bike to head down the hill, just boots, which I’ve got. I don’t know what kind of things await me at the Antiquities shop, but it sounds far more exciting than the sad excuse for a library this place has.
I take the well-worn footpath from the top of the hill at Brigid’s down to the main strip of shops that’s considered ‘town’ around here. It’s never been all that much, but it seems to have more activity going on now than when I was a kid. There are a couple new businesses — the tea shop is one of them.
The path meets the alley that runs behind the shops, and the nearest side-alley takes me right past Afternoon Delights. A niche tea shop with exotic decor is the last thing I’d expect to last long in Lupine Bay, but I guess time will tell if a town this size can sustain it. Just like Ava said, directly across the street from the tea shop is Bathory Antiquities.
If I thought the tea shop looked out of place here, that’s nothing compared to the sore thumb that the antiques shop is.
It looks like it was transported from another place and time, moved here from Victorian England or something. It certainly fits with the gray, dreary weather, the thick cloak of fog hanging around at street-level, but it doesn’t fit with the rest of the architecture that’s much more 50s Americana.
A lot of people will try to tell you that folks in small towns are big on conformity and don’t tolerate weirdness at all, but I’d argue that there’s no better place to let your freak flag fly. In a small town, people have to get to know you, regardless of how weird or strange you may seem. There’s no way to just write the odd ones off as a kooks when you see them around town every day and have to make conversation. You wind up learning that weird people are still people deep down, and none of us are all that different.
That still doesn’t explain how they stay in business, but their finances are beyond me. Hell, my finances are beyond me.
When I open the door to Bathory Antiquities, I’m immediately greeted with the sweet smell of old books. That slightly vanilla-y scent with a hint of earthiness that no chemist has every successfully bottled, evidenced by my collection of rejected perfumes and once-burned candles.
It’s the best smell in the world, and there’s no way to get it other than having the books.
There’s a little leather mixed in with the scent, smoke too, like candles burning, but it’s hard for me to focus on anything because I’m positively assaulted with things to look at.
The place is filled to the brim with antiques and curiosities. There are a couple of booksh
elves, too, but it’s the curtain occluding a back room that catches my intrigue. There have to be more books back there. There’s not enough up here to account for the overwhelming aroma.
“Pretty amazing, isn’t it?”
I jump at the voice, then again when my eyes settle on the hulking giant of a man who somehow snuck up on me in complete silence.
“Uh… what?”
“This place. There’s nowhere I’ve found quite like it. You look like the kind of person who appreciates scholarly pursuits.”
I tilt my head to the side, not sure how I want to take that. What exactly makes me look like a nerd? I know we’re long past the days of my youth when being a nerd was about the worst thing you could be, but the old immediate defensiveness hasn’t gone away.
“Uh… Is this your shop?”
The giant smiles, and he’s suddenly way less intimidating. He’s built like the Rock, with the vaguely Polynesian looks to go with it. His hair is wild and curly, but carefully tamed into a low ponytail like a fancy gentleman of yore.
“I wish. This is Alistair’s establishment. I’m but a fan. Name’s Ku,” he says, offering his massive hand.
I still don’t know how to deal with this interaction, this weird guy, his comments about me being a nerd, any of it. But I shake his hand. It’s the only thing that makes sense right now.
“Callie,” I answer. “So you just… hang out here?” I ask, arching a brow.
Ku shrugs. “Most of the time. I do conduct some research now and again as well. Mostly I love being surrounded by all this knowledge.”
Now that’s a nerdy thing to say.
…It’s also a sentiment I totally get. Guess I am a nerd.
“What is it that brings you in?” Ku asks, a bloodhound on the scent trail.
I shrug this time. “Looking for info about the town. Lady at the B&B told me this would be the place to start.”
“Ava?” he asks. “She’s not wrong. If there’s anything known about the town, it’ll be in this place somewhere.”