Lucky Stars (45 page)

“Sure,” Yasmin replied casually.

“Did you get a good
look
at them?” Belle went on.

“Sure,” Yasmin repeated. “Seriously, Belle, they’re cool. Before you got home, we told them the whole Myrtle and Lewis story and they sounded like they knew exactly –”

“Yasmin,” Belle interrupted her, being uncharacteristically rude but she thought the situation warranted it, “you’ve known Jack longer than all of us. What do you think
he’ll
do when he sees those two and finds out they’re staying under his roof doing
readings
and going into weird
trances
and, I don’t know,” she paused as her hysteria escalated and finished with, “being outrageously Scottish!”

Light dawned and Yasmin whispered, “I see what you mean.”

“I think –” Belle started but her grandmother interrupted her.

“I think that we should let the witch do her work. I think
,
if Belle has a word, Jack will come around. And I think we all need to be vigilant. Whatever that was wasn’t good and the best thing we can do is let the experts go about their business.”

“Gram –” Belle began but was interrupted again.

“You’ll have a word,” Gram demanded.

“But –” Belle tried yet again but was interrupted yet again.

“
Bellerina
, have a word.”

Belle sighed then whispered, “I think you might be overestimating my influence over Jack.”

At that, Lila laughed.

As did Yasmin and Rachel.

And they all laughed like what Belle said was hysterically funny.

Which it was
not
.

“I’m not being funny!” she snapped.

Gram came forward and pulled Belle loosely into her arms.

Putting her cheek against her granddaughter’s, she said softly in Belle’s ear, “I think you’re
underestimating
your influence over Jack.” She pulled away and looked in Belle’s eyes and when Belle opened her mouth to speak, hurried on, “We’ll see
who’s right, hmm, my sweet
?” Belle closed her mouth and stared stubbornly at her grandmother when Lila repeated firmly, “Have a word.”

Belle stepped out of Lila’s arms and crossed her own over her baby bump.

Then on a sigh, she gave in, “All right, I’ll have a word.”

“Just,” Rachel added, getting close and putting her hand on Belle’s upper arm, “give me a chance to ask about the car first.”

“Mom!”
Belle cried.

“No.
Seriously.
I don’t want him in a foul mood when I ask him. He might say no,” Rachel said.

Belle decided to let it go.

She was, as she reminded herself hourly, pregnant, hormonal, living in a haunted castle (now with
three
ghosts) and falling in love with Jack Bennett.

She had to pick her battles and while doing so guard her reserves.

And she needed her reserves in order to have her “word” with Jack.

“I’m going to take a nap before dinner,” she announced, deciding that would do wonders for her reserves.

“Good idea,
honeypot
. I’ll wake you in an hour, okay?”

Belle nodded.

Then she left.

And she only felt better when she found the dogs, guided them to her and Jack’s room and lay down on their bed.

And she only felt better because Baron and
Gretl
were with her and she was in a room that was now her and Jack’s and lying on a bed that could be described using the word “their”.

But she couldn’t help but wonder about the possible third ghost, who “he” might be and what Jack was going to think when she had her “word”.

* * * * *

Belle woke before Rachel came to her room.

She lay in the bed still a bit sleepy but feeling rested.

Her hand went to her belly and she felt the hardness there.

“Well, sweets,” she whispered to her belly, “I promised life would eventually go back to normal and boring but your Daddy knew better, didn’t he?”

She splayed her fingers wider on her belly and smiled at the thought of Jack as “Daddy”.

Her mobile, sitting on the nightstand, sounded.

She picked it up and it said, “Jack Calling”.

There it was again.

He was on her mind and then he called.

She couldn’t shake how weird that was.

Or how wonderful.

She
slid
her finger across the screen and put the phone to her ear.

“Hi,” she said softly.

She could hear the smile in his voice when he replied, “Belle.”

“You okay?” she asked, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

She heard dog tags jangling as both Baron and
Gretl
moved forward for pets.

Belle didn’t disappoint, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder, she pet them both at the same time which was how they preferred it.

“Yes, poppet.
I called to let you know I’m taking off in fifteen minutes. I finished earlier than I thought.”

Belle felt a rush of happiness.

Which was quickly followed by a rush of anxiety.

“Um…” she paused before saying weakly, “Jack.”

He was silent then his tone was cautious when he asked, “What is it?”

“Well…” she began, not knowing how to have her “word” but kind of happy that she was having it on the phone where she didn’t have to watch him blow his stack in person (and
before
her mother could ask about the car).

“Belle.”
His voice was no longer cautious, it held a warning.

“We met Cassandra and Angus today.”

There was more silence, a sigh then, “Angus?”

“The McPherson.”

Jack’s tone was now filled with humour when he asked, “His name is Angus McPherson?”

Belle again thought Jack found the weirdest things funny.

“Yes. Why?”

Jack replied through chuckling, “That’s very Scottish.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Belle muttered.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing,” Belle said quickly, “Um… I have to tell you something.”

Again with the silence then he said softly, “Anything, my love.”

She felt her belly melt, her heart melt and her mind registered that head over heels love business when she heard his tone and his words.

Both of which made her anxiety fade clean away.

Therefore she told him, “Angus and Cassandra are staying at the castle.”

“That’s fine,” he replied immediately.

Belle blinked before she parroted, “That’s fine?”

“Yes, Belle.
We’ve plenty of room. Not to mention if they stay, it’ll save on their expenses.”

Belle was surprised at how easy that was.

She, however, thought it best to forewarn him, “They’re a little bit strange.”

His voice was back to sounding amused. “She’s a clairvoyant witch and he’s a Scottish ghost hunter. I figured they’d be strange, poppet.”

“No, I mean,” Belle took in a breath and said, “they’re
really
strange.”

“She’s a clairvoyant witch and he’s a very Scottish ghost hunter,” Jack repeated. “I figured they’d be
really
strange.”

Belle couldn’t help it, she giggled.

Then she gave him the full story. “Cassandra’s doing readings. She thinks there’s a third ghost.”

There was more silence, this longer and far, far heavier.

Finally, he said, “A third ghost.”

“She isn’t sure. She’s doing readings.”

“Readings,” Jack replied.

“I don’t know what that means,” Belle told him. “I’ve been napping but I do know she seemed very keen. Cassandra, I mean. She started straight away.”

Belle decided not to tell Jack that Cassandra was keen in a weird, scary way that made Belle’s heart lodge in her throat. Jack, she figured, probably wouldn’t like that.

“Readings,” Jack muttered again, sounding at a loss.

“Jack?”

She heard him sigh another sigh and then he assured her, “
It’s
fine, Belle.”

“Yasmin thinks they know what
their
doing.”

“It’s fine.”

“Yasmin seems pretty certain.”

“Poppet, I said,
it’s
fine.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“I’ll be home soon.”

“Um…” she muttered again and Jack was silent so Belle forged on, “Angus wears a kilt.” This was met with more silence so she continued, “And hose,
ghillie
brogues, a sporran,
the
whole lot.”

She heard him burst into laughter.

It was, she thought, very funny. So, softly, she laughed with him.

“I’ll be home soon,” he repeated when she’d stopped laughing.

“Okay, see you.”

“Good-bye, poppet.”

“’Bye, Jack.”

He disconnected, Belle took the phone from her ear and put it on the nightstand.

She stared at the phone realising she forgot to tell him about Cassandra and her scarves.

She licked her lips and took in a breath through her nose.

Oh well, he didn’t seem overly upset about the rest so Cassandra and her abundant use of accessories probably wouldn’t faze him.

She leaned forward and gave each
dog
a thorough head rub, saying, “I’m hungry. Let’s see about dinner.”

Baron woofed and
Gretl
got to her feet and did an excited circle.

Belle got up and walked from the room.

The dogs were at her heels as she made her way down the hall, her mind on her now grumbling belly and wondering how long it would take Jack to fly home.

Therefore, as she reached the top of the stairs, it took her by surprise when both Baron and
Gretl
closed in and started growling.

She stopped and looked at one dog then the other.

Both were pressing close to her legs, both looking back down their bodies, both had teeth bared.

“What on –” Belle started to say but stopped when movement caught her eye and she looked down the steps.

A young, black-headed boy was racing up them.

Not racing, as in
treading
, but drifting, swiftly,
like
a shot.

He was see-through.

Belle’s mouth dropped open.

The boy’s pale, ghostly face suddenly filled with terror and he halted.

“
Belle!
Watch out!
” She heard his eerie, disembodied shout right before the dogs started barking and snapping and she felt what seemed like a hand at her back, shoving.

She lost balance, automatically reaching into the air but there was nothing to grab onto.

Therefore she tumbled down the stairs.

She tried to stop her fall but her head cracked against the fifth step with such force she was unconscious by the time her body rolled to a rest at the foot of the stairs.

* * * * *

Lewis and Myrtle

Myrtle zoomed directly to Belle but Lewis floated in suspended animation in the middle of the stairs and, head tipped back, he stared in horror.

The bad man stood at the top of the steps, grinning.

He could see
him,
see him for the first time ever.

See him shimmering through.

“You,” Lewis whispered, shocked, scared and angry.

The bad man lifted his ghostly hand and touched his index finger to his forehead in a mocking salute before he glittered and disappeared.

“Help!
Help!
Help!”
Myrtle shouted, her unearthly voice echoing through the stone hall, mingled with Jack’s dogs’ frantic barking.

Lewis heard footsteps as he floated down.

Myrtle was drifting in a crouch over Belle’s motionless body as the dogs circled, sniffed and kept howling.

“Oh my God.”
They heard breathed and they looked at who they knew was Yasmin, a family friend both of them liked a lot, mostly because she was funny.

She was staring at them in dazed disbelief.

“Go! Get help!” Lewis shouted, his strange, ghostly voice now echoing with the dogs’ frenzied woofs.

Yasmin ran forward toward Belle and Myrtle drifted away.

She dropped to her knees beside Belle then her head snapped up and she looked at Lewis, demanding, “What happened?”

“Get help!” Lewis replied.

More steps, more people and Yasmin’s head jerked around to look over her shoulder.