Page 23 of Ghoul Me, Maybe
My heart skips. My throat’s dry.
Kerren and Dace—those are names from Dad’s notes. He wrote them in the margins like puzzle pieces, never explained.
AndGreaves—that’s new. Or maybe just old enough that no one dared speak it aloud anymore.
I reread the final line again.
It was never meant to touch land.
Well, shit. That ship sailed—literally and metaphorically.
I hear footsteps behind me and shove the page into my jacket, spinning around fast enough to make my vision tilt.
It’s a woman in a long yellow coat and work boots, hair braided tight and tucked into a fisherman’s cap. She looks about sixty but stands like someone who’s never lost a fight.
“You digging up curses again?” she asks.
“Depends,” I say. “You offering an exorcism or a shovel?”
She snorts. “Neither. Just wondering if you know what you’re playing with.”
“Who’s asking?”
“Name’s Margery. Used to run the harbor patrol until the town decided ghost lights and ferry tales didn’t need supervision.”
I narrow my eyes. “Did you know Jonas Vale?”
She nods slowly. “Everyone did. He was the kind of man who made people believe in monsters.”
“Were they wrong?”
“No.”
We stare at each other for a beat. The wind picks up, sending spray against my cheeks like cold fingers.
She jerks her chin toward the statue. “You find what he left?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Yeah, you do.” Her voice is low. “You’ve got the look. The eyes of someone who’s just seen the start of the real story.”
She turns to go but pauses. “You come across the name Greaves again, you run.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s not dead enough.”
That sends a chill crawling up my spine.
“Wait,” I call after her. “What does that mean?”
She doesn’t answer.
Just disappears into the fog like she was never there.
Back in my room, I lay the page out next to the map and Dad’s journal. I scribble notes in the margins, trying to draw connections that keep sliding out of reach. The relic—whatever it is—didn’t just bind Elias. It corrupted his crew. Itwantedto be found.
Dad knew. Of course he did.
