Lost in Shadow (A Shadow Walkers Ghost Novel) (6 page)

“There’s no such thing as ghosts. Odd phenomenon is almost always explained by science. I wish fairytales were real too, goodness knows I could use a fairy godmother but I’m worried about you.”

“Well, that guy may not have been a ‘ghost’ but you have to admit it was strange.”

Kat shook her head. “Absolutely, it was odd, but don’t let it mess with your head. That’s all I’m asking.”

The sting of Kat’s words was taken away by her smile, and Emily knew she was silly for believing in fairytales. But if she gave up believing then it would be like admitting there was nothing else out there, which simply was not acceptable.

“All I want to do is take a bubble bath in that amazing claw foot tub, sip a cup of tea and chill.”

“Sounds like heaven.” Emily groaned, thinking of soaking in the gigantic tub, allowing the hot water to ease her sore muscles. Their room boasted a large, real fireplace, not one of those gas imitations they had at home, the sitting rooms gave off a cozy atmosphere with the plush velvet chairs positioned in front of the fire. From the sitting room there were two doors each leading to a bedroom decorated in deep indigo for her and burgundy for Kat. The bathroom décor matched the bedroom. The modern furnishings in the old building complemented each other. They had splurged, using all of their airline miles. Since they both traveled quite a bit for work, they had saved up a boatload of miles…might as well use them for first-class tickets and a five-star hotel. After all, this was a once-in-a-lifetime dream trip.

Entering the room they stopped dead on the threshold, mouths agape. The room had been ransacked. While the fire crackled merrily, the rest of the room looked like a tornado had come through. Cushions were tossed on the floor, chairs overturned, all the lovely modern sculptures smashed into pieces, ground into the plush carpeting. The doors to their bedrooms were wide open. Through the open doorways you could see clothing thrown all over the room, dresser drawers tossed with abandon onto the floor, the bathroom mirrors shattered, and toiletries scattered on counter.

Calling the front desk to report the break-in, Emily saw the worried glance Kat couldn’t hide. “Don’t flip out, I’m fine. What’s one more crazy thing to cap off our drama-filled day?” A discreet knock at the door interrupted her.

“Mrs. Chandler, on behalf of the Balmoral hotel, we are dreadfully sorry. The authorities are on their way. Another room is being made ready. The room is one of our larger suites. Complimentary during your stay with us. Please accept our apologies for this dreadful unpleasantness.” The hotel night manager wrung his hands, fretfully looking around at the extensive damage to the once-elegant room.

A smart rap on the door was followed by the bell hop ushering in two uniformed police officers. “Pardon me, Officer Monroe MacDonald and Officer Shamus O’Malley have arrived.”

“Please show them in.” Standing in the center of the room, Emily watched the officers walk around the room. The one named Shamus was short and stocky with brown hair and eyes. His nose looked like it had been broken more than once. Other than that, he had clean-cut features. He was frowning as he noted the damage.

“Monroe, you notice anything odd about this? Can’t put my finger on it but something’s off.”

Walking around the room, Emily could see the one called Monroe didn’t miss anything as he took in the chaos. Clearing his throat, Monroe addressed Kat, “Ma’am is anything missing?”

“That’s just it officer, nothing is missing, not my jewelry, iPhone, or anything. It’s rather strange, isn’t it?”

Kat wrinkled her nose, “Maybe the thief was startled and ran away before he could take anything. Who knows? We just want to move to a new room, get a good night’s sleep and put this unpleasantness behind us.”

Pacing around the room, Emily’s skin itched, stretched too tight across her back. Everything was off. She couldn’t stay still as she walked in circles in front of the fireplace, trying not to step on pottery shards, thinking. Very strange things had been happening since the accident. At the time, she’d chalked them up to the trauma and drama of everything, but now…she wasn’t so sure. She watched Monroe as he looked around their room talking to Kat. He had golden-blond hair and turquoise blue eyes that were at odds with his gruff voice, and a big screw-you attitude. The guy was big, maybe six-two if she had to guess. How strange the face of an angel was attached to a body that screamed big bad wolf. This guy would probably prefer to punch first, ask questions later. She took a step back from him. He must’ve had women lining up for a night with him. The combination of a pretty face and bad boy aura would draw every woman across Great Britain to his bed.

“Are you missing anything, Miss…?” Monroe glanced at his notes.

A dimple appeared in his left cheek when he was concentrating. It had a devastating effect on his face…forget the face of an angel; try the face of some long-forgotten god of old. Emily grinned, thinking he would hate being called attractive. There was something rough and ready about this man. Incredibly attractive, but while she could appreciate a gorgeous man, he didn’t do it for her. Rather like admiring a beautiful painting or sculpture—because you admired it didn’t mean you wanted it. Nope, a certain Scotsman named Colin did it for her.

“Ah, Miss Laurens,” he said, finding his notes. Moving closer to her, he approached like he was walking on eggshells, worried she’d break down in hysterics.

Rolling her eyes she told him, “Please, call me Emily. No, nothing is missing. Why would someone ransack our room then not steal anything?” Taking her hand out of her pocket to tuck her hair behind her ear, she felt like a guilty teenager lying to her parents.

Monroe’s pleasant, bored expression changed in an instant, darkening, sending a momentary fission of fear through her as he caught sight of her clothing. “Miss Laurens, why is there blood on your shirt and a rip in your jeans? Have you been injured?”

“Um…well…oh. We were on a tour earlier of the South Bridge Vaults, and I fell. Guess that’s how I tore my jeans.” Cutting her eyes to Kat, she gave her a look, warning her not to say anything.

Crossing her fingers behind her back, she told him this lie, backing up a step as he narrowed his eyes.

“Miss Laurens, I don’t see any blood on your knee through the rip in your jeans so I’ll ask again, how did you end up with blood spattered across your shirt? Looks like you were too close to a knife fight and caught the blood spatter as someone was stabbed. That about right?”

Stalling to come up with an answer, Emily could tell he’d had it with her. His words punched out like a hammer hitting nails. “Did. Someone. Hurt. You?”

Pulling a chair upright, Monroe practically pushed her down as he examined the rip in her jeans, face red, hand clenched at his side. “Miss Laurens, some jerks think it’s OK to hurt a woman. I’ve seen it a hundred times. A woman goes on a date, things get rough, the dickhead hits her.” She watched him struggle to stomp his temper down while he scowled at her.

Her mind was a big fat blank. She couldn’t think of anything to tell him that sounded remotely reasonable.

In a low tone, Monroe actually growled at her, he was such a friggin’ savage.

“Tell. Me. Now.”

“Officer! That’s quite enough.” Coming out of her room, Kat reprimanded him. “Emily’s had a trying day as have I. This has gone on long enough.”

Monroe didn’t acknowledge Kat. Just sat there staring at her. Eyes drilling into her, searching for answers.

“Kat, it’s okay. I’ll tell him what happened. Go ahead and pack.” Feeling her face heat up, Emily tried not to break down and cry.
Please, not in front of him. Get me though this; I swear I’ll never eat another brownie again.

“Fine. You won’t believe me anyway.” She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring up defiantly at him, curled up in the chair as if the flimsy wood could protect her.

Leaving out the voice she’d heard on High Street, warning her of something called ‘Day Walkers’, she told him what happened in the Vaults with the men, fighting, ripping hearts out of chests, gold dust, and the disappearing.

“The entire tour group laughed at me…teased me about seeing ghosts, but I know what I saw. Are you going to laugh at me too?” Bracing herself for laughter, she looked up at Monroe through her eyelashes.

He was quiet, too quiet. She leaned up from her chair to get a closer look at Monroe. He was as white as a ghost. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his face.

What exactly did he know?

“I’m not laughing at you, though you must admit it’s a rather difficult story to believe, not to mention you admit you had been drinking. Our eyes play tricks on us sometimes, especially when there’s poor lighting. You’d already been thinking about ghosts so it’s not implausible your mind would make something up…” Monroe started to continue when Emily jumped to her feet, hand out in front of her to stop him from talking.

“…so you saw what you wanted to see,” he looked at her open-mouthed.

Indignant, she came to a stop inches from him, poking him in the chest and raising her voice, “Oh no, don’t you patronize me, buddy. I’m going to find this man and get to the bottom of this.”

“Please let me finish, Miss Laurens. I do believe something happened. This is a promise: I will find out what’s going on. Some sick bastard won’t get away with running around slicing people up in my city. You, Miss Laurens, will do no such investigating. Leave this to the authorities. Do you hear me?”

Gah, he was so demanding. She’d tell him whatever he wanted to hear, and then she’d do what she wanted, like she always did.

“Fine. We have sightseeing to do anyway. I’m tired, are we done here?” She sniffed.

“Shamus? Let’s go. Mrs. Chandler, Miss. Laurens, terribly sorry for the break-in. We’ll file a report and let you know if we find the idiot who did this. It was most likely university kids engaging in pre-Halloween pranks.” Monroe nodded to both women, leaving his card with them in case they remembered anything else.

Saturday, October 31st

Emily yawned, “Did you sleep OK? I kept dreaming someone broke into our room to steal our shoes and purses. Then I was dreaming about trick-or-treating. Do you remember when we were five—I was a fairy princess and you were a box of cereal? I think we snagged the biggest haul of candy ever that year. Then the raccoon I rescued from the neighbor’s dog ate it all. In my dream, the raccoon went trick-or-treating with us. Bizarre right?”

“I slept like a baby, crazy I know. We’ve gotta have a calmer day than yesterday. No more break-ins or drama.” Kat looked over to see what other patrons in the parlor were having before turning her attention back to the menu and deciding on an omelet.

“Hmmm…think I’ll have Earl Grey Tea and the porridge with whisky. After all, a girl’s gotta fortify herself against the cold. At least we can say yesterday was exciting. Anyway, the Close was okay, but I thought the Vaults were really interesting. Can you imagine having to live like those poor people or being walled up alive?” Emily shuddered, wrinkling her nose.

Kat looked up from her plate, “By the way, I think someone had a little too much to drink last night, you lightweight.”

Emily started coughing as tea came out of her nose, “I was not drunk Katherine Anne Chandler. I know what I saw. Colin was real.”

“Oh, Colin is it? What, ya’ll have a date for coffee later today?”

Kat had been her best friend since Emily was five, but sometimes she could be so snarky Emily wanted to wring her pretty neck.

“Snicker all you like but I’m going to find out more about him. If he’s some re-enactment guy trying to scare me, he’s getting a piece of my mind—he will bleed, for real this time. That was soo not funny.” Emily made a face at Kat, and they both burst out laughing.

“Should we hit the museum today? I heard they have some fantastic abstract paintings, and it will keep our minds off of everything that’s happened.”

“Only if we can take the midnight tour of Edinburgh Castle tonight,” Emily pleaded.

“Fine, but first, we’re going back to the Vaults to find out who the re-enactors are, then we’re tracking down Colin so you can see he’s just some scruffy Scottish guy in a kilt. Not a ghost, and he won’t have an injured arm. Then we’re off to the museum, a nap, followed by a quiet dinner, ending with your midnight Halloween tour.” Kat finished her omelet while Emily snorted.

“What’s so funny?”

“You are so bossy, not to mention, I think you forgot lunch in our busy schedule.” Emily giggled.

Sniffing, Kat paid the bill as they headed out to enjoy the gray day.

Turning onto High Street, they found the tour guide, Ian, in the ticket booth adding up figures on an old-school calculator.

“Excuse me? We were here last night and wanted to find out who the re-enactors were. They were really good,” Kat said.

Ian scratched his head, a puzzled look on his face. “We don’t use re-enactors on the tours.” His face brightening, he said “I remember you two. You encountered the ghosts.”

“No, this guy’s name was Colin; he was in a kilt, black boots, and white shirt. He was with two other guys dressed as English soldiers with the redcoats and swords?” Emily pressed.