Ghouls, Ghouls, Ghouls Part 15

"No," I a.s.sured him. "I was just thinking how odd it is that the phantom doesn't seem to come down those stairs."

"It's not that unusual," he replied. "Especially if it wants to stick close to the gold and protect it."

"Maybe," I said, but something about the phantom haunting only the top of the rock bothered me.

I was silent for a few moments and Heath nudged me. "What're you thinking?"

I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. "That we might want to find out what its range is."

"That could be dangerous."

I cracked a smile. "And this bust has been such wholesome fun so far?"

Heath appeared to waver at my suggestion. I saw his hand move to one of the canisters tucked into his tool belt. We'd come to the rock somewhat "unarmed." Neither of us was openly wearing magnets, but we'd brought enough canisters to give the phantom pause should we encounter it.

Finally, he said, "Let's tackle Kincaid and Bouvet first, and see how we feel about playing tag with the phantom after, as long as we have time."

"Cool."

I switched off my flashlight and Heath did the same. I then pulled out one of the small handheld cameras with night vision and flipped it on. Looking through the view screen, I considered the dark green landscape. "You want to go first?" I asked Heath.

"Sure," he said, before cupping his hands around his mouth and calling out to Kincaid. "Jordan Kincaid! If you can hear us, please give us a sign!"

We both listened for any unusual sounds, but only the wind and waves reached our ears. "Jordan Kincaid!" Heath called again.

I counted to ten, and focused the lens of the camera all around the rocks. Nothing moved and there were no unusual shadows lurking about.

"Try Bouvet," I suggested.

"What was his first name again?"

"Gaston."

Heath called out to Gaston, but there was no reply. I closed my eyes and focused on the ether, flipping my intuition on to high. There was a mixture of energy there at the base of the rocks. I could feel the tragedy of the three lives lost, along with other older rifts in the ether. "This rock has seen a lot of death," I said.

Beside me, Heath reached for my hand. "I can feel it too. But none of it wants to communicate."

I tucked the camera into my messenger bag and turned my flashlight back on. "I say we move to the stairs and see how far up we can go before we start triggering the phantom."

Heath held my hand firmly, keeping me next to him. "Tell me why again?"

I was thinking about the crypt where Dunnyvale was interred, and about the journal entry that Kincaid had entered the night he died. He'd talked about those crypts and I just knew there was a reason Alex had gone to explore them. My own intuition was tugging me up those stairs back to that secret door, and I felt compelled to honor the impulse.

"I just want to know what our boundaries are," I told him.

Again Heath appeared to waver.

"You can stay here," I told him. "I'm okay going alone." Man, was I good liar or what?

Heath slanted his lids at me. "You're not going alone."

"Cool," I said, pulling my hand from his. "Then let's get to it."

I hurried ahead of Heath lest he think it a good idea to pick me up and haul me away caveman-style. That was only okay if we were near a bed.

We reached the stairs and I checked myself. We had to proceed slowly and carefully; otherwise, that phantom could be on both of us faster than we could react.

While holding the flashlight in one hand, I lifted out a canister with my other, and held my thumb against the rim to pop the cap quickly should I start to feel the phantom's energy. Looking over my shoulder, I asked Heath if he was ready.

"No," he said, pulling out two canisters himself. "But I'm not letting you go it alone."

I smiled winningly at him before turning back to the stairs. We moved up slow and steady-like, pausing every so often to listen for any sign of any spirits including the phantom.

As I climbed, I'd periodically shone the beam of my flashlight to the left, searching for that hidden door.

"It's up a little further," Heath called from behind me.

He knew me too well.

A few minutes later he tugged on the back of my s.h.i.+rt. "There," he said, pointing out the door in the shadow of my beam.

I stopped on the stair opposite the door. "I have a gut feeling."

"You think Gopher's in there?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure. But something's tugging me there."

Heath tucked one of the canisters under his arm before closing his hand over my wrist and moving the flashlight up the stairs. We were about three-quarters of the way up, and nerve-rackingly close to the phantom's territory.

No dark shadows presented themselves, and although the edges of my senses were picking up the uncomfortable feeling of being near the phantom, I didn't feel that it was about to attack us.

Of course, I hadn't truly sensed that it was about to attack me the last time either.

"Your call," Heath said, nodding his head toward the door.

I took a deep breath and edged my way to the entrance of the crypts. The door was heavy and difficult to pull open, but with little more than a loud nerve-jarring screech, it allowed us to pa.s.s through it.

We stood in the dark entrance for a few beats, waiting, listening, and feeling the ether.

"Someone's here," I whispered, sensing the telltale signs of a spook nearby.

"Yep."

I quickly turned off the flashlight and got my camera back out. Flipping it on, I held it up to eye level before clearing my throat and saying, "h.e.l.lo?"

"Bonsoir," said a very soft voice, and Heath and I both jumped. said a very soft voice, and Heath and I both jumped.

But I saw no one either with my naked eye or through the view screen. "h.e.l.lo?" I said again.

"Ah-lo?" a male voice replied.

"I think it's Bouvet!" Heath whispered excitedly in my ear.

"Oui," said the voice. said the voice. "C'est moi." "C'est moi."

My eyes widened. The voice was disconnected but clear, and I waved the camera around, trying to find a shadow or form to which it might belong.

"Bonsoir, Monsieur Bouvet," Heath said. "Je m'appelle Heath." Heath."

My eyebrows rose and I turned to him. "You speak French?"

"That's all I know."

There was a chuckle and the hair on my arms p.r.i.c.kled. "Ah-lo, Heath," said the voice with a heavy French accent. "Perhaps you will a.s.sist me?"

I smiled wide. We definitely had Bouvet!

"Certainly, sir," said Heath. "And maybe you can help us too?"

"But of course! I am looking for mes amis mes amis. Have you seen zem?"

"No," Heath said. "We just got here a little while ago, Mr. Bouvet. And we haven't seen anyone else but you."

I squinted at the view screen. And I wish we could actually see you, And I wish we could actually see you, I thought. I thought.

"Zey are supposed to help me with za lid. It is most 'eavy, you know. Perhaps you might be of some a.s.sistance?"

"Sure," Heath offered. "What lid is it that you need help with?"

There was a pause, and I wondered if we'd lost Bouvet. "Ah, zere you are!" he exclaimed suddenly before switching back to French. "Oh la! Tu m'as apporte un cadeau? Encore un de tes tresors merveilleux de l'Amerique du Sud, il parait. C'est un vrai honneur que tu me fais la, mon vieux, et je vais l'ouvrir sur-le-champ!" "Oh la! Tu m'as apporte un cadeau? Encore un de tes tresors merveilleux de l'Amerique du Sud, il parait. C'est un vrai honneur que tu me fais la, mon vieux, et je vais l'ouvrir sur-le-champ!"

"What's he saying?" I whispered.

"I don't have a clue," Heath whispered back.

Bouvet's tone was casual and lighthearted, but I was worried. Something about the energy around us had s.h.i.+fted, and I thought that maybe the spirit of Gaston Bouvet had moved away from conversing with Heath and me to enter the memory of what had happened to him in the moments leading up to his death.

"Oh, but of course, mon ami mon ami!" he said, switching partially back to English. "But first you must 'elp me with ze lid!" Bouvet chuckled, as if he was still engaged in conversation with someone other than us. "Qu'est-ce?" "Qu'est-ce?" he added, as if someone had just said something he didn't quite hear. After a moment he said, "Oh, very well! he added, as if someone had just said something he didn't quite hear. After a moment he said, "Oh, very well! Un, deux, trois! Un, deux, trois!"

There was a popping noise ... a bit of a pause ... then the most terrified scream I'd ever heard. I jumped back against the wall, shocked and scared down to my toes as I also heard frantic footsteps racing along the stone while that scream went on, and on.

In the next instant there was a rush of wind as something whizzed right past me, and footsteps continued to sound out the doorway and up the stairs. "What the h.e.l.l?" "What the h.e.l.l?" I heard Heath gasp. I heard Heath gasp.

My fist clutched my grenade, and my shaking fingers poised themselves on the edge of the lid. For a few seconds I considered popping the top and unleas.h.i.+ng the spike, but then I realized that although I was scared, I wasn't actually sensing the phantom approach ... yet.

"Time to go," Heath's ragged voice whispered in the dark. He clicked his flashlight on, and in the dim light I could see that he looked as scared as I felt.

"I'm right behind you," I told him.

We left the tunnel leading to the crypts and hustled down the stairs. From the top of the rock we could still hear s.n.a.t.c.hes of Bouvet's terrified screams. His reliving what I suspected was an encounter with the phantom had elicited other spirits to stir in the night. More than once I heard Kincaid shout out for Alex, and eerily, I also heard a man with a thick Irish brogue shout, "It's after me! Get away with you! Get away!" "It's after me! Get away with you! Get away!"

"That's gotta be the coast guard officer," Heath called over his shoulder as we raced down the stairs.

I mentally agreed but was too busy focusing on the sounds in the night and keeping my footing to reply. What I didn't tell Heath was that I was also listening for Gopher's voice. If he had been killed, I suspected I might hear it mixed in with the other victims of the phantom.

But no sound or sign of him came to my senses. "I just want off this d.a.m.n rock!" I swore as we neared the bottom.

Heath cleared the last step, pausing briefly to catch his breath and wait for me. I joined him and he reached for my hand. Together we ran to the causeway.

I took a step onto the cobblestones, feeling a wash of relief to be so close to leaving this cursed place, when an agonized cry descended from high above, followed by a sickening WHUMP WHUMP somewhere behind me near the base of the cliffs. A flurry of s.h.i.+vers shot up my spine. somewhere behind me near the base of the cliffs. A flurry of s.h.i.+vers shot up my spine.

Heath and I both froze midstep. I swallowed hard and tried to resist the urge to look behind me. "Sweet Jesus!" I gasped. "Please don't tell me that was what I think it was!"

And then, we both heard Kincaid's voice scream, "Allllllllllllllex!" "Allllllllllllllex!" followed by another followed by another WHUMP WHUMP.

I thought I was going to be physically ill, and I did actually begin to wretch and gag. I staggered forward onto the causeway, dizzy with the horror playing out in the ether, and nearly stumbled right over the side and into the water.

Heath's hand caught my shoulder, keeping me on the cobblestones, but my knees gave out and I started to sink down. I felt his strong arm sweep under my back while his other arm moved under my knees, and before I knew it, he had swept me off my feet and was carrying me quickly over the wet stones.

Only then did I realize I was crying.

I clutched his coat and wept, trying to still the flash of memories of Kincaid falling off the cliff. Hearing the sound of him hitting the rocks was almost more than I could bear.

He and Bouvet were reliving those terrifying moments before their deaths over and over again, and no no soul deserves such torture. "We ... have ... to ... help them!" I sobbed. soul deserves such torture. "We ... have ... to ... help them!" I sobbed.

Heath came to an abrupt stop, his breathing labored. He squeezed me tight and lowered his head to my shoulder. "Yes," he whispered. "But not tonight."

I hugged him fiercely and tried to collect myself. "I'm okay," I said after a bit.

He set me down and took my hand again. We didn't waste any more time hustling our b.u.t.ts back across the causeway.

We arrived at the B&B only to find the lights still out. The two of us made our way to the sitting room, which was surprisingly warm and cozy by the fire. Heath sank onto the couch and stared a little forlornly at the fire.

I shrugged out of my coat, kicked off my shoes, and was taken by how handsome his face was in the glow of the fire. I moved to the cus.h.i.+on next to him, and ran a finger along his black silky hair.

He turned to me and our eyes locked, and I wondered why I'd ever thought I could resist the attraction I had to this man.

He didn't try to kiss me; he just waited for me to decide. I hesitated only a second or two, wondering where my true feelings were amid all the chaos of the last few days. And then, I realized I really, really, really really wanted to kiss him; so I leaned in and touched my lips to his, and it was like opening a release valve. All that fear and adrenaline and awfulness that he and I had so recently witnessed melted away and a wave of pa.s.sion flooded between us. wanted to kiss him; so I leaned in and touched my lips to his, and it was like opening a release valve. All that fear and adrenaline and awfulness that he and I had so recently witnessed melted away and a wave of pa.s.sion flooded between us.

It wasn't long before our clothes came off and we moved it upstairs.