Ghost Walk

Chapter Eleven

June 25, 1789- Father likes to say that Eugenia is the brains of our family.

I’m not so sure about that. How could I get away with half of the naughty things I do, unless I was far more intelligent than people give me credit for?

From the Journal of Miss Lucinda Wentworth

Grace slammed the front door of the shop shut behind her, defiantly plopping her costume’s straw bonnet on her head. “It’s a mystery why I didn’t run away, years ago, and join the circus. It would have been so calm and normal in comparison.” She dropped the memory potion into the pocket of her apron and rubbed her forehead. “I’m really sorry about earlier, by the way. My aunt takes this whole Partner thing seriously.”

“No doubt she should.” Jamie said quietly. His eyes scanned the street, just in case Robert showed his wanker face. The damn police had called that morning to say they’d released the man, so he could be anywhere. It made Jamie uneasy. “A Partner is clearly a serious thing.”

Grace glanced up at him through her lashes. “You believe her, then?”

“Yes.” There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Grace’s Partner was coming to claim her. A man would do anything to have such a woman beside him. Kill, bleed, die, beg… And once that bastard finally fought his way to her side, he would take the only thing in the universe that Jamie loved .

Unless Jamie figured out a way to stop him.

It was disconcerting to be on the other side of things. To be the one fighting to keep what he treasured. Everything Jamie ever had in this world, he’d stolen. Even his ship had been won in a damn game of cards. All his valuables were plunder that he’d taken for his own, by being stronger and smarter and luckier than the fellow who’d lost it. Nothing had ever truly been his .

Not until Grace, with her incredible hair and Sunday school teacher frowns.

Grace was quiet for a long moment. “So I was thinking…” She fiddled with her portable phone’s decoy earpiece, even though nobody noticed that she was apparently talking to herself. Conversing with a ghost didn’t cause nearly as many odd looks as you’d fear. Citizens of the modern world were too wrapped up in their own issues to pay much mind to anyone else’s. “What do you think will happen when we clear your name? Do you think that you’ll --like-- ascend into heaven or something?”

Jamie scoffed at that idea. “I highly doubt heaven will have me.”

“But there would be no reason for you to be a restless spirit.”

“I’m not a restless spirit.” Maybe he had been, but finding Grace had eased him. She was the reason he’d stayed in this earthly realm for so long. Meeting her brought all of it into focus.

He’d been waiting for Grace.

When she’d traveled to 1789 and he’d seen her with his mortal eyes, he’d experienced the same exact feeling he got when he looked at her now. An overwhelming sense of recognition. Of happiness. Of relief that she’d finally arrived. He’d always been waiting for this small, uptight, obstinate woman. Alive or dead, there was no one else for him.

For Jamie, there was just Grace. Now and forever.

Grace took a deep breath, still looking distressed. “Maybe you’ll just disappear if we solve these murders. Maybe none of this will have even happened. And, I know that I said I wanted you to vanish out of my life, but… I’ve kinda changed my mind.”

That was gratifying to know. “I am not going to leave you, Grace. Not if I can possibly help it. I told you that yesterday.”

Even though a ghost had very little to offer a living woman.

Whoever Grace’s Partner was, he could protect her from Robert and give her children and share her future. Jamie’s future had been buried for two centuries. She didn’t need him here, complicating her life. She didn’t need him at all . No matter his feelings, was it right to have Grace waste her existence on a dead man? She deserved more. She deserved…

Jamie shook off the idea before it could take deeper root.

He didn’t want to think about any of that or he’d eventually reach a conclusion that would kill him all over again. Goddamn it, he couldn’t just hand her over to some fucking Partner. He couldn’t . Maybe she didn’t need him, but he needed her desperately.

“You’re sure you’re going to stay?” She persisted.

Jamie’s jaw ticked. “I’m sure I want to stay.” He temporized and that seemed to alleviate her worry.

It didn’t do a damn thing to ease Jamie’s.

Selfish or not, he had no intention of walking away from his salvation, though. Jamie might not be welcomed through the pearly gates, but he’d still been granted a miracle. As much as he’d tried to ignore his father’s religion growing up, his belief in the spiritual world had taken deep root. God would not have brought Grace to him, just to snatch her away again. No. She was the one being in the whole of his life and death that belonged solely to Jamie.

…Or maybe he belonged to her.

However you looked at it, there was a purpose in their meeting. A rightness. A grand design. Grace was where Jamie was supposed to be. He had to believe that.

“So, we’re following a map?” He prompted, wanting to focus on something he could actually fix. If there was one thing Jamie excelled at, it was maps. He craned his neck to look down at the yellowed page and then swore. “Oh bloody hell. Is that one of Ned Hunnicutt’s abominations?”

“I knew you were going to say that. You have an unhealthy fixation with that poor man.”

“That jackass was the worst cartographer in the Colonies! Plus he watered down his ale and treated his serving girls badly.”

“So you’ve said. Repeatedly.”

“Because it’s true .” He gestured to Ned’s laughable scribblings with a disdainful sweep of his hand. “Wherever that is leading you, it’s no doubt in the polar opposite direction of where you want to go. The man couldn’t find east if you pointed him towards the rising sun.”

“It’s not as if there are a lot of two hundred year old maps around to choose from, Jamie. We’re going to have to make do.” She held up the poorly-rendered sketch for him to see. “Now, Anabel Maxwell was last seen in the hedge maze behind the governor’s mansion. This is a diagram Edward Hunnicutt drew of the hedge maze from that same year. It’s going to help us retrace her route.”

Jamie made a face. “Knowing Ned, it will no doubt zigzag us about for several dizzying hours and then drop us down a well.”

“Have a little faith.” Grace headed down the cobblestone street, toward the governor’s mansion in the center of town. The imposing brick building was impossible to miss. Set back on a wide lawn, it had been designed to awe and intimidate visitors. “The hedge maze is still here, but we can’t be sure it’s growing in the same pattern. That’s why we need the map.”

Jamie couldn’t imagine ever being desperate enough to “need” one of Ned’s lopsided renderings. But Grace clearly wasn’t going to listen to him, so he stopped arguing about it. It was a lovely summer morning, Robert was nowhere to be seen, and Jamie was walking beside the love of his life (and death). There was no sense in ruining the moment.

All around them, Harrisonburg was preparing for the 4 th of July celebrations. Workers were erecting a stage for the concert that would accompany the fireworks display. Vendors were already setting up booths around the park to hawk “authentic” baskets and cool lemonade. A lady in a white apron was selling bouquets of sunflowers.

Jamie slowed his steps, his eyes on the bright yellow blossoms. He wished he could buy some for Grace. She should have beautiful things. Back in his own time, he could’ve given her anything her heart desired. He’d had more gold than he could spend and he would have lavished all of it on his bride. It was frustrating that he couldn’t do that now.

A new thought occurred to him. Hang on. Maybe he could .

“If we’re going to be using maps, we should use mine.” He said, brightening. “Grace, we should find my map.”

“Oh Lord…” She rolled her eyes like she thought there was something impractical about a hunt for pirate treasure. “Let it go , Jamie. I have enough craziness dealing with the lost recipe for troll powder.”

“I’m serious.” He insisted, excitement filling him. “My map is real and it’s surely still around someplace. No one in this blasted town throws anything away. We just need to locate the spot I buried my fortune and dig it up. That would see you secure for the rest of your life.” He arched a brow. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a chest full of gold and gems to spend?”

“Sure. I could build all my unicorn friends a sparkly new castle for our tea parties.”

He frowned at the sarcasm. “The treasure isn’t a fantasy, Grace. It’s somewhere near here, hidden under the ground, and all of it belongs to me. To you . All we have to do is find it and you’ll be taken care of forever.”

She didn’t seem enthused by the prospect of being Fuck-‘Em-All rich. “Let’s just concentrate on solving the murders, okay?” She flashed her Harrisonburg employee ID at a guard and was waved through the massive gates of the governor’s house .

The flat-fronted Georgian building was the largest structure in Harrisonburg. It had been called the governor’s “palace,” back when Virginia was still part of Britain, and the name wasn’t far off. The white mansion was huge, with lavish formal gardens and rooms full of gilded furnishings. It was the one building in town Jamie understood people wanting to tour while on vacation. The outrageous opulence of the place suited his personal style to a T. In the waning years of Oprah and before Haunted High started airing, his favorite show had been MTV Cribs .

In his opinion, the governor’s home would have made quite a striking state capital. And it would have been just that, except Thomas Jefferson had hated living there, when he was governor, and moved the capital to Richmond in 1780.

Tom had always been an ass.

“The hedge maze is this way.” Grace headed down a set of shaded steps. “You probably know that. Were you here back in the day or was there a ‘no pirates allowed’ policy?”

“If you’re handsome and rich and notorious, you’re welcomed everywhere .”

She sent him a dry look. “Which means you totally broke in to steal stuff.”

“Just small stuff.” He winked at her.

“Scoundrel.” Grace stopped in front of the maze’s entrance, which was blocked off by a chain. A sign dangling from it read: “Do Not Enter Without a Hedge Maze Host.”

It was easy to see why. Ahead of them, paths stretched off in three directions. The labyrinth was made of American Holly, to discourage anyone from pushing through the plants Bart Simpson-style, and dense enough that you couldn’t see through the walls. Given its massive size, you could easily be wandering around in there for hours.

Especially if you were following Ned’s half-assed instructions.

“They used to let school trips in here, but they had to stop a couple years back.” Grace said as if reading his mind. “The teachers kept missing their buses, because kids would get lost.”

“Perhaps we should take note of that and forget this plan.”

“Perhaps not .” Grace retorted. “If there’s any evidence left of Anabel’s murder, this is where it will be.”

He studied her for a beat, his mind still dwelling on his impossible love for her. “Do you like children?” He asked, unable to stop himself.

“Sure. My family has a ton of them running around. My niece Joy once turned my car into a pink Barbie Corvette, which kinda pissed me off, but they’re mostly great to have around.”

Jamie sighed. Of course, she liked children. She deserved to have two or three of them underfoot, breaking the already broken knickknacks in her home and filling her life with magical chaos.

…And she would never, ever have that if she was with a dead man.

Grace studied the deplorable excuse of a map for a beat and nodded, missing his growing misery. “So far so good, too. The maze is starting in the same place now as it did back then. Do you remember it?”

Jamie grunted. “A bit.”

He’d occasionally snuck into parties at the mansion and the maze had been the most entertaining spot at the stuffy gatherings. The walls were over seven feet high, all full of dark corners and dead ends. Couples could be agreeably alone in the twisty pathways.

“A bit?” She repeated skeptically. “Is that your way of not telling me about your sleazy assignations in the garden?”

“Everything that happened before I met you becomes a bit of a blur.” He explained piously.

Grace’s mouth twitched. “That’s a good line.” She stepped over the chain barricade and moved down the maze’s left corridor. “Let’s try this direction. Keep your eyes open.”

“For what?”

“Something that was around when Anabel was here. Something that wouldn’t have changed.” For a woman who’d nearly hyperventilated at the Wentworth’s house, she seemed fine with entering the garden without permission to find a blood-soaked crime scene. Probably because she’d forgotten she was trying to fit in with “normal” society.

Grace was kidding herself if she thought she could be anything but brilliant and brave and bursting with enchantment. Her insistence on being “normal” was like a butterfly wanting to cut off its wings and turn back into a caterpillar. You couldn’t suppress magic like Grace possessed. The fearless spirit and the love of adventure. Underneath that uptight exterior, the woman had the soul of a pirate. No doubt, her living, breathing, husband-materially Partner was aching to show her how much fun that could be.

Just the idea of it made Jamie crazy.

What the fuck was he going to do?

Grace’s camera was looped around her neck. She adjusted the setting to something called “IR” and snapped a picture of a cupid statue. The image that popped up on screen looked… strange. The colors were all wrong. The plants showed up as white and the sky glowed orangey-pink.

“Your camera will show us something?” He asked. Focusing on the past seemed far easier than thinking about the future.

She nodded and kept walking. “Infrared lens can detect blood that’s been painted over.”

“Like magic.”

She shot him a quick look. “It’s not magic, Jamie. It’s science.”

“Not much of a difference, if you ask me. They both make impossible things into reality.” No wonder she missed her forensic job. Grace’s blood cried out for enchantment and investigating crime gave it to her. “Speaking of which, I never did get a chance to ask you… What’s the other spell you can cast?”

“What?”

“Yesterday, when Robert attacked you, you said you only knew two spells. One was for menstrual cramps. What’s the second?”

Grace hesitated. “The Rivera Doomsday Spell.” She finally muttered.

“Doomsday Spell? Well, that sounds quite promising. What does it do?”

Grace gave a superior sniff. “I don’t ever plan to use it, so it doesn’t matter.” She took another picture, this time of an arrangement of decorative rocks. “Darn it.” She looked back at the map and picked another path, clearly not willing to discuss magic. “Okay, so let’s pretend you’re Anabel Maxwell. You’re at a party, at night, playing in the hedge maze with someone. Is there anything particular you might have done in here?”

He arched a brow at her.

“… Besides the obvious.”

Jamie chuckled at her prim tone. The woman never failed to delight him. “It doesn’t much seem like Anabel to be in the hedge maze, a’tall.” He told her. “She wasn’t a fun-loving lass, like Lucinda. A man would have to do some fast talking to have her risking her reputation for some frolic in the gardens. She must have known him quite well.”

Grace mulled that over. “Was she dating anyone? Or courting or whatever you called it in 1789?”

“I have no idea. I barely knew the girl. The whole family were bloody idiots, so I had no desire to socialize with them. Her blockheaded brother nearly lost us the Battle of Yorktown.” Two centuries had past and it still annoyed him.

“Gregory Maxwell was the Hero of Yorktown . Everyone knows that.”

“Bullshit.”

“You’re just mad he wrote Horror in Harrisonburg , detailing all the reasons you were the killer.”

Jamie ignored that, because it was patently impossible that that numb-skull wrote any book beyond a “How To” guide on general stupidity. “I was at Yorktown, so I vividly recall that jackass nearly…”

“Shh!” Grace suddenly put her finger against her lips to hush him, even though she was the only one who could hear him anyway. “I think someone’s coming. ”

Jamie listened for a moment and --sure enough-- he could hear movement in the hedgerows. “Stay here.” He walked through the walls of the maze, scanning up and down the long, green aisles. Near the entrance, he spotted two Harrisonburg employees looking around.

Shit.

“Everything seems okay to me, Morris.” One of the guys said. He was college-aged, with a bad goatee and a name badge that read “Emmett.”

“I’m telling you, I saw somebody come in here.” The boy named Morris was about the same age, with equally atrocious facial hair. His wide hazel eyes were darting around. “It was a pretty woman in an old-fashion dress, just wallllking into the maaaaze.” His voice lilted across the words, stretching out the syllables so they had the spooky cadence of a narrator from an old B movie. “She was talking to someone who wasn’t there. Like maybe she didn’t know she was dead or something.”

Jamie squinted at him. “What the bloody hell…?”

“You spend too much time reading those dumb paranormal sites.” Emmett opinioned, trying to sound braver than he looked. “We need to check out the pathways and make sure it wasn’t some vandal or a lost kid or something.” …But he didn’t venture any deeper into the labyrinth.

Neither did Morris, who was equal parts excited and scared. “It wasn’t a frigging kid, Emmett!” He whispered fiercely. “I think it was really her . Anabel Maxwell has come to haunt the spot where she died. Shit like this happens all the time! I told you she was real!”

Jamie smiled in delight and ducked back through the hedgerows, returning to the spot where he’d left Grace. Phasing through solid matter was one of the small perks of being incorporeal. It only took him a moment to cheat his way through several hundred feet of maze. “Well, good news and bad news.” He told her calmly. “Bad news: Two of your fellow tour guides are poking about in here.”

She paled. “Oh no! How am I supposed to find any blood evidence if I’m locked in a jail cell for trespassing?”

“Which brings us to the good news… They think you’re a ghost.”

Grace blinked. “Come again?”

“They think you’re Anabel, haunting the scene of the crime.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She rolled her eyes like the very idea was ludicrous. “Because of the stupid dress? Half the people in Harrisonburg wear costumes! I swear, it’s like this town goes out of its way to hire idiots.”

Jamie arched a brow at her derision. “Ghosts are such a farfetched notion, then?”

“Oh shut up.”

He chuckled. The whole situation had perked him up immensely. “I wouldn’t worry much about the boys. They seem a bit terrified of you, lass.”

“Wonderful. If they get too close, I’ll just yell ‘boo!’” She hissed. “For real, what are we going to do?”

“I find that belittling someone’s tour-guiding techniques is the best way for a ghost to be noticed.”

Grace made a face. “I’m glad you’re finding this so funny.”

“Aye, I really am.”

She deliberately turned on her heel and headed away from him, down another twisty row of vegetation. “Just keep an eye on them and make sure they don’t find me. I’m going this way.” She consulted the map again. “At least, I think I am.”

“Following that blasted thing, the only place you’re going is ‘round and ‘round and ‘round in circles.”

“We’re not going ‘round and ‘round and ‘round in circles. It just seems that way, because everything is all green and leafy.”

“And because we’ve made a loop.” He said dryly. “We’re standing in the same spot we were ten minutes ago.”

She looked around with a perplexed frown. “Are you sure?”

“Very.”

Grace kept walking, just to spite him. “Well, the map says that we need to take this path, so I’m…” She broke off mid-word, realizing that Ned’s useless instructions had led them right into a dead end.

Jamie snorted in amusement. “At this rate, you will wind up a ghost in here. The teenage tour guides will find your poor skeleton, miles from the entrance and still clutching that so-called ‘map’ in your wee bony hand.”

“You can stop talking now.” Grace backtracked, a frustrated expression on her face. “Go check to see where they are. I don’t want to be arrested today.”

Jamie blew her a kiss and headed off to spy on the other guides again. As funny as the whole thing was, he was slightly concerned about the boys being alone in the maze with Grace. They seemed harmless enough, but, after yesterday, he was anxious about the intentions of other men. He was useless in a fight and there were only so many times a menstrual cramp spell would work. It would be better for everyone if they just went away.

When he rejoined the two of them, they were approximately three feet farther down one of the pathways, still bickering about the best course of action.

“We should call Anita down here to deal with it.” Morris was arguing. “That fascist bitch is head of the tour guides. Fuck knows, she tells us enough that she’s the boss. She should be the one to deal with emergencies, right?”

Apparently, he was no fan of Grace’s employer either. That raised Jamie’s opinion of the boy. He wasn’t forgetting how unkind Anita had been to Grace when she was wounded. The girl really did need a new job. And Anita needed a good ass-kicking.

“And let her get all the credit?” Emmett shot back, fiddling with the camera app on his phone. “What if this is a real ghost, huh? If we could get a picture of it, do you know how many hits we would get? We’d be internet royalty! You just want to hand that kind of fame over to Ms. Beauregard-Smythe?” He scoffed at the very idea. “What the hell would she even do with it? ”

Morris made a considering face, conceding the point. “She is --like-- way old.”

“Old? She’s probably still on fucking MySpace! Screw that ancient hag.” Emmett held up his phone. “If we get a few good shots of something supernatural, we can spend the rest of the summer at the beach, drinking Pbr and talking to hot chicks.”

Jamie admired the boys’ goals, but enough was enough. He didn’t want potentially dangerous men alone with Grace, he didn’t want her worried about getting caught trespassing in the maze, and he certainly didn’t want that harridan Anita showing up to harass her.

“Grace, my love?” He shouted. “Remember when you said you could yell “Boo!” and scare the boys away? That might not be such a terrible idea. They want to see a ghost, so perhaps we should give them one.”

She understood what he meant without asking for further details. It was one of the reasons he loved her. Leaves began to rustle in an eerie wave and Grace gave a low moan of ghostly torment that was really quite impressive. Whether she liked it or not, spending her childhood in a haunted house had definitely rubbed off on the girl. It was quite a creepy little show.

Emmett and Morris froze. All thoughts of finding fortune and glory on the internet faded in the face of a possible actual ghost. In unison, they edged backwards, towards the exit.

“Did you hear that?” Emmett demanded.

Morris frantically bobbed his head.

“Little more, lass.” Jamie called, grinning widely.

She obliged by screaming the most bloodcurdling scream ever screamed. It sounded like she was being attacked by a herd of rapid porcupines… while simultaneously being burned alive with a million blowtorches… at the dentist… in hell. Even Jamie cringed at the god-awful noise. It was bloody brilliant!

Emmett and Morris took off running. They tripped all over each other, dashing out of the maze, never to return. Not even the promise of work/study credits was going to lure them back to their jobs after Grace’s performance. No real ghost could have done half as good a job.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, how had he lasted two and a half centuries without this beautiful, odd-duck of a woman?

“That did the trick.” He was still laughing uproariously as he moved back to her side. She’d found her way into a new row of the maze, which had to have been the work of pure luck. Ned’s map really was leading them in circles. “Those lads are quite scarred for life. You should be proud.”

“My great-great grandmother had an affair with Bela Lugosi.” Grace shrugged uncomfortably and photographed a bench. “It’s probably in my DNA.” Her picture came up empty again. “Crap.” She kept moving. “We need to stay focused on the investigation.” Being anything other than white-bread-and-tap-water ordinary still made her uneasy, so it was obvious she’d rather not discuss her acting skills.

But from the sparkle in her eyes, it was also pretty damn clear she’d enjoyed the prank.

He gave her a knowing smile. “You donea have to pretend to be normal with me, you know. You can be just as magical as you truly are.”

Grace cleared her throat, ignoring that. “Like I was saying, if Anabel had a connection to Lucinda’s mystery man, a boyfriend would give us a place to start investigating. Especially if we could tie him to Clara, too.”

Jamie was willing to play along with the subject change. “You’re still thinking about that H.C. from Lucinda’s diary?”

“He’s our best suspect.” She gave a pointed paused. “Except for a certain spurned lover with a bad reputation, obviously.”

“Anabel was no lover of mine. Setting aside her family’s lamentable IQs, her wig was quite off-putting.”

“ Everyone back then wore wigs.”

“Just because a book told you that, doesn’t make it true. Take, for instance, that libelous tome Gregory Maxwell allegedly wrote about me being a killer.”

She sent him an amused glance. “For real, it’s okay to tell me if that’s not your real hair. Even if you were bald, I’d still let you do naughty things to my naked body.”

“I’m not wearing a wig, woman. How many times do I have to bloody say it?”

She snickered, clearly wanting to tease him some more. As she turned a corner, though, something caught her attention. She stopped short and consulted Ned’s godawful map, again. Using that piece of rubbish, they were probably headed for the Mississippi River by way of the Himalayas, so it was no wonder she seemed confused. They’d have better luck searching for the North West Passage. “Okay, hold on. This part seems different.”

“No doubt.” It would be a wonder if they could escape the maze before nightfall using all the random lines Ned drew. Jamie fully anticipated having to navigate their course home by the stars.

“No, I mean I think there was once a wall here. See? Right there.” Grace pointed to some brickwork lining the edge of the path. “This used to be a little sitting area.”

Jamie frowned and actually remembered that feature. He looked around, seeing the old arrangement of hedges in his mind. Plants had died and re-grown over the years, altering the landscape slightly, but it was all familiar to him. “The wall curved this way.” He made a sweeping gesture with one hand. “There was a gazebo, too. Couples used to stop here to steal a quick kiss.”

…Sometimes more than a kiss.

Grace sent him a suspicious frown and he smiled innocently at her. Not surprisingly, she wasn’t fooled. “You were kind of a pizza-tramp back then, weren’t you?”

“I just hadn’t met the right girl.” That would take him another two-hundred and thirty odd years.

She snorted at that and lifted the camera again. Someone had painted the old bricks black, but it did nothing to hide the crime scene from Grace’s forensic magic. When she snapped a picture, the dark evidence of blood spatter was visible, even to Jamie’s untrained eyes.

“You’ve found it.” He whispered, gazing at the small screen in awe. “This is where Anabel died.”

“Dexter Morgan, eat your heart out.” Grace beamed up at him, delightfully proud of herself. “For real, how awesome am I at this job?”