Page 30 of Ghost Walk
His brows compressed like he didn’t have an answer for that.
He wasn’t the only one floundering for a response. Grace crouched down, her fingers turning the board so she could get a better look at the Luminal-y glow. Her thumb touched the ancient bloodstain and she barely noticed. “For the past year, I’ve been trying to explain how it happened, but I keep coming up…”
She stopped short as Lucinda’s bedroom vanished around her.
Grace was suddenly outside. Likeoutsideoutside.
It was night, with candle-lit lanterns flickering along cobblestone streets, and no sounds except the quiet chirping of insects.
Grace’s lips parted in amazement. It seemed like shewas still in Harrisonburg, but no hybrid cars or signs for WiFi hotspots were in sight. This was Harrisonburg with all the plastic, hipster, tourist-mania burned away.
Harrisonburg when it was new.
The building right in front of her looked exactly like a dirtier, smellier, high-def version of The Raven. In fact, itwasThe Raven. …Or at least how the tavern must have appeared, just a few years out of the Colonial era. Because she knew in her heart that’s where she was:
Smack dab in the middle of 1789, on the night Lucinda Wentworth died.
Chapter Six
June 23,1789- How I wish women could walk into taverns and drink! I was standing outside The Raven today, wondering if I’d ever have the courage to enter right through the front door. Mother and Father would faint dead away. How wonderfully shocked the whole world would be! And I just know all the best gossip happens inside those walls. Alas, I have my reputation to consider and there are some things a lady does not do.
…At least not publically.
From the Journal of Miss Lucinda Wentworth
Grace slowly got to her feet, dread filling her. “Oh crap…”
Just like that night in the alleyway, somehow she was back at a murder scene, reliving everything in IMAX-like reality. This was not normal. This was very, verynot frigging normal. Grace’s breath wheezed in and out as she tried to get her bearings. It didn’t feel like a delusion. It felt like it was really happening. Like she was really and truly standing in the middle of another era. What the hell was she…?
“Bloody hell.” A familiar voice said very distinctly from behind her. “Either I’m far drunker than I thought or you just appeared out of nowhere, lass.”
Grace’s head whipped around, her chaotic thoughts screeching to a halt. “Jamie?”
It was really him!
Kind of.
This wasn’therJamie, from the twenty-first century.This was Jamie, before he became a ghost. A solid, three-dimensional Jamie, wearing an even gaudier outfit than his usual super-colorful mix of fabrics and holding a pewter mug full of ale. She gaped up at him, staggered to see him alive and breathing.
And even more gorgeous.
The flickering light from the oil lamps did great things for the shine of his hair and his already exceptional cheekbones. He tipped his tri-corner hat farther back on his head, looking like the cover shot for some Patriot-themed “Hunk of the Day” calendar. Despite her possible insanity, Grace found herself whispering the word “Wow!” under her breath. God, he looked amazing.
His eyebrows shot up when she called him by name. “Do I know you?”
“I knowyou.” She blurted out, staggered by the (maybe) reality of what was happening. Jesus, this was (maybe)actually happening. “We met yesterday, right over there.” She pointed to the spot where she’d fallen on the tour. In this time period, the curb was made of stone and not cement, but everything around it was eerily the same. “You don’t remember?”
“No.”
Of course he didn’t. It hadn’t happened yet.
“Strange, because you would be a difficult lady to forget.” Jamie stepped off the porch of the tavern. “I used to see the fay, back in Scotland, and I’m thinking you might be one of them. One minute the street was empty and the next you werehere. Appearing out of thin air.”
“Fay?” It was so hard to think. “You mean fairies?” Oh for God’s sake… Grace nearly hit him in general frustration. “I’m not a frigging fairy, Jamie!”
“Well, what other beings just materialize out of the ether? Where do you come from? And what in God’s name has happened to your gown?” He gestured to her striped skirt. “You’re practically unclothed.”
Grace looked down at her sundress. The maxi length and spaghetti straps were perfect for a summer day back inreality, but it seemed like Jamie wasn’t sure what to make of her anachronistic outfit. No wonder. In this century, “Old Navy” meant nothing more than a bunch of British war ships.
