Ghouls, Ghouls, Ghouls (12 page)

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Authors: Victoria Laurie

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General

BOOK: Ghouls, Ghouls, Ghouls
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My best friend was holding his knee pathetically and whining. “Ow, ow, ow!”
I hustled over to him and crouched down. “You okay?”
“NO!” he yelled, right in my ear.
“Dude,” I growled, standing up, really irritated with him and this whole stupid adventure.
“Sorry,” he groused. “But that hurt.”
I inhaled and extended my hand. Gil took it and I helped him up. He limped for a step or two, but then seemed all right.
“What’s that?” Meg said from behind me.
A chill ran down my spine, and I looked behind me back toward the rock, but then I noticed that Meg was looking down about six feet out into the water where the journal was just starting to sink below the waves.
I pointed my flashlight where I saw her looking and gasped.
“Gilley!”
I yelled, sinking to my own knees and trying to reach out to it. “You dropped the journal!”
Heath’s hand landed firmly on my waistband and he pulled me back from the edge. “Careful!” he said. “The water’s deeper than it looks here and the currents are likely to pull you under if you fall in.”
I got back to my feet and sent an exasperated look at Gilley. He looked mournfully up at me. “I’m sorry!”
I was so angry that I simply turned and stomped off. Heath came with me and slipped his hand into mine. “It was an accident, M. J.,” he said after a bit.
“It was careless,” I said through gritted teeth.
“We can figure this all out without it,” he insisted reasonably. “And at least you still have the letter.”
I stopped and blinked up at him. “I do?” And then I felt all my pockets discovering that I’d tucked the letter into my back pocket. With a relieved sigh I started walking again. “A load of good that’ll do us,” I said after a bit, my foul mood returning. “The important parts were all in the journal.”
When we finally reached the shore, our feet and pants up to our shins were all soaking and I couldn’t have been more cold, tired, and miserable. All I wanted to do was crawl into the van and point it back to the B&B.
We found the van right where we’d left it, but only then realized that Gopher had taken the keys. “Look in his backpack,” I told John, who’d been shouldering it all the way from the top of the rock.
John sifted through the contents while Heath shone his flashlight into the interior. No keys.
“I think I saw him put them in his pocket after we got out of the van this morning,” Kim said quietly.
“
Why
did we only take one van this morning?” Gilley wailed.
I remembered that it had been Gopher’s idea. He’d wanted to save on gas.
Bone-weary and in a now truly terrible mood, I stared up the road and began to walk. “Looks like we’re hoofin’ it,” muttered John from behind me.
I sighed again. This night just continued to offer up crap sandwiches. Heath held out his hand to me as we got to the steep part of the climb up the road. “Come on,” he said. “It can’t be that far.”
Unfortunately, it was close to five miles. It took us well over an hour to reach the B&B. When we arrived, there was a note on the door from Anya saying that she was sorry we’d missed dinner, but that she’d have a hearty breakfast waiting for us in the morning.
Once we’d tiptoed inside, Meg asked, “Should we use the other van to go alert the authorities about Gopher?”
I was beyond exhausted by then, and every muscle in my body ached, but thoughts of Gopher’s welfare made me say, “Yeah. We need to see if they’d be willing to send a search party to the castle.”
But Heath reminded me about the permissive-access paper Gopher had shown the constable. “They’ll never go for it. We assumed all risks when we went to the rock. You heard what that constable said, that the village wouldn’t help us if anything happened. Plus, if they do go, that phantom’s likely to make mincemeat out of them.”
“We can’t just leave Gopher there alone,” I argued. “Seriously, Heath, we’ve got to do
something
.”
“I can go,” said John. “You two did more running around than me. Plus, the keys to the van are in my room. I can go file a report at least.”
Heath sighed wearily. “Yeah, okay, John. Thanks.”
John moved quickly and quietly up the stairs, and everyone else worked their way up at a much slower speed. “I’m so tired I don’t even think I’ll change. I just want to do a face-plant into my pillow,” said Meg.
“Me too,” said Kim.
“Me three,” said Gil.
Heath and I did not play along this time, but I was thinking,
Me four ... big-time.
 
I don’t remember my head hitting the pillow. I don’t even remember the final steps to my room. I do remember falling immediately into a deep and blissful slumber, and somewhere near daybreak Lord Dunnyvale visited me again. “Hello, good lady Holliday,” he said cordially.
“Lord Dunnyvale,” I replied, with a dip of my chin.
“Have you considered my offer?”
“I have,” I told him. “And I don’t think I like the terms.”
Dunnyvale appeared taken aback. “Why, I thought they were quite agreeable,” he said to me. “Don’t you want to see your friend again?”
“Of course I do. But it hardly seems fair that the longer you hide his whereabouts from me, the more likely it is that he’s in mortal danger.”
“Ah,” said Dunnyvale. “Yes, that’s a good point. Shall I sweeten the deal with a little bullion?”
I blinked at him. “A little what?”
“Gold, dear. A little gold.”
Was he for real?
“I don’t want your gold, Lord Dunnyvale. I want my friend.”
But Ranald eyed me with a look that suggested he didn’t believe me. “Everyone wants the gold, lass.”
I glared at Dunnyvale. “I
said
I didn’t want it, Lord Dunnyvale. I just want my friend.”
“Yes, well, start with Alex, then follow the trail to the gold, and there you shall find the clues that will lead you to your friend. You can’t have one without the other, I’m afraid, and you can’t do the last without dealing with the phantom.”
I rolled my eyes. “You talk in riddles, my lord.”
Dunnyvale gave me a look of mock surprise. “Do I?” he said coyly. “Why, I believe I’ve spoken quite plainly.”
And with that, I woke up to the thin pink light of dawn seeping in through the blinds, and Gilley’s soft snores in the next bed.
“Gil,” I whispered.
“ZZZZZZZZ ...,” he said.
I frowned. He looked really deep in sleep, and he was a bear to wake at times like that, but I really wanted to talk this whole visitation from the lord of Dunlow Castle over with someone.
“Gilley!” I said, right into his ear.
“ZZZZZZ ... snort ... ZZZZZZZ,”
he replied.
“Fine,” I told him. “Have it your way.”
With that, I moved off to the shower and soaked up all the hot water.
A bit later, showered, in clean clothes, and feeling quite refreshed, I tiptoed out of the room in search of food. As I closed the door softly behind me, I found myself staring right into a manly bare chest. “Morning,” said Heath, his voice husky with fatigue.
I felt a blush hit my cheeks. “Hey, there. You’re up early.”
The corners of Heath’s mouth lifted. “Thought I’d grab a quick shower before everyone else took the hot water, but I couldn’t get the temp above lukewarm for some reason.”
The heat in my cheeks intensified. “That may have been my fault.”
Heath’s grin widened. “I thought I heard you in there. Maybe next time we could share.”
Sweat broke out onto my forehead, and my eyes darted to the floor. I opened my mouth to say something clever—and absolutely nothing came out.
I thought of making an excuse and darting away, but Heath wound his strong muscled arms around me and pulled me close. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered into my hair.
Jesus, he smelled good. I wrapped my own arms around him. His skin was soft and smooth under my touch, and holding on to him, I felt safe and good.
He rocked us gently back and forth, and for the longest time that was all we did, just held each other and swayed a little. I wanted to kiss him—hell, I wanted to throw him down and mount him—but as I tilted my chin up, my stomach gave a loud rumble.
The romantic moment evaporated and Heath chuckled. “Hungry?”
Another blush hit my cheeks. “Yeah, you?”
Heath’s eyes smoldered into mine. “Oh, I’m famished, M. J. But enough flirting. Let’s get you something to eat.”
Heath turned away, still holding my hand, and I boldly stood firm, pulling him back. He looked curiously at me, and I took a chance, leaned in, and touched my lips to his.
He inhaled sharply and there was a sizzle of energy that crackled between us. He then kissed me long and passionately and I wondered why it’d taken us so long to do something that felt so amazing.
We probably could’ve gone on like that for a while, but someone cleared his throat loudly behind us and we both jumped back. “Morning,” John said, his eyes looking anywhere but at us.
I fiddled nervously with my hair and Heath looked slightly chagrined. “We were just ... uh ...,” Heath said, his voice trailing off as he looked at me for help.
“Heading down to breakfast.”
John cleared his throat again. “Thought you two would want an update on the search for Gopher.”
I bit my lower lip. Damn. I’d briefly forgotten all about our producer, and I felt awful for indulging in a little tongue hockey instead of focusing on finding him.
“Did the authorities find him?” Heath asked.
John shook his head. “No. I smell pancakes and I think Anya’s making us some breakfast. I’ll fill you in downstairs.”
We trooped quietly after John to the first floor and made our way to the rather cramped dining room. “Well, there you all are!” Anya said happily. “I’ve been watchin’ for you, but I didn’t want to disturb your sleep when you likely got in so late. Am I right?”
I sat down next to Heath and under the table he squeezed my hand. “This looks amazing,” he told her, nodding at the spread on the table.
I had to agree. There was an enormous plate of pancakes in the center, flanked by both sausage and bacon, a huge bowl of sliced fruit, juice, tea, coffee, muffins—enough food for an entire platoon of soldiers ...
“Are those
pancakes
I smell?”
... or one Gilley.
My best friend bounded into the dining room with a flourish and immediately took his seat and began piling hotcakes onto his plate. “I’ll just have a little,” he said to those of us staring at his lack of decorum. “I don’t want to go overboard on the carbs, you know.”
I counted five pancakes on his plate.
Patting his stomach, he added, “I’ve got to watch my figure and all.” Gilley’s attention then snapped to a large basket in the center of the table. “Oooh! You made muffins too?”
“They’re blueberry,” said Anya, her face flush with pride as she watched Gilley sweep aside the towel keeping them warm.
He then picked the largest muffin, which was nearly bursting with blueberries, and plopped it onto his plate. “Has anyone seen the butter?”
I rolled my eyes and handed him the small dish with what looked like freshly whipped butter. Gil snatched it greedily and began slathering it onto his muffin. “I’ll just have a nibble,” he vowed, before taking a
huge
bite.
Tearing my eyes away from Gilley, I turned to John again and asked, “How’d it go with the authorities last night?”
John took two pancakes from the plate in the center. “It didn’t go well.”
“Mmuff mwpned?” said Gilley, still chewing on the half of the muffin he’d stuffed into his piehole.
“What’d he say?” John asked me.
“He said, ‘What happened?’”I speak fluent Gilley, no matter what language he’s talking.
John eyed Gil, now thirstily gulping down a large glass of juice. “Uh ... they said that, given the storm surge and currents around the rock, that they couldn’t get a boat out to check out the island until this morning, and they also said that the most they’d be able to do is to search the base of the rock. They flat out told me they would
not
be going up the stairs to the castle.”
I stopped spreading butter on my own muffin and looked at John. “Damn. I was afraid of that. They really won’t help us search the castle?”
John shook his head. “Nope. They were definitely firm on that point. They pretty much repeated what it said on Gopher’s permissive-access papers. That anyone who goes up those stairs is assuming the risk of great bodily harm or death, and they can’t be responsible for someone who gets lost up there or doesn’t come back from Dunlow Castle.”

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