“John,” I whispered. “Tell Gil to shut up for a minute.” I couldn’t think with all his yammering in the background.
“M. J. says to shut it, dude.”
“Tell M. J. to shut it!” Gil replied.
I sighed and pulled the headset off. In my mind I said, Sam? Is the Widow close by?
No. She’s still some distance away.
I have to make a phone call. Would you continue to play lookout for me?
Of course. Make your call. If she moves, I’ll alert you. I thanked him, then pressed the callback feature on my phone and put it to my ear. “Where have you been?” Gopher demanded. “I’ve been calling you and calling you! And nobody’s answering their damn phones! Not you, not John, not even Heath!”
I felt relief wash over me. Gopher was alive. Nervously I eyed the door, and even though Sam was playing lookout for me, I still moved over to the corner, hunched down, and spoke to Gopher very softly. “None of us had our phones on us,” I reminded him. “I just found mine, in fact. But more important, are you okay, Goph?”
“No, I’m not okay!” he nearly shouted. “Some idiot put up the drawbridge and now we can’t get back inside! We’re all freezing and we didn’t get a frickin’ minute of usable footage!”
I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. Thank God he and the others were okay. Still, I wanted to make sure everyone was with him. “The drawbridge had a mechanical failure. It’s stuck.”
“Great,” Gopher grumbled. “Just great!”
“Are you with Meg and Kim?” I asked him next.
“Yeah.”
“Where are you guys?” The wind whipping through his microphone and his knowledge about the drawbridge meant he likely wasn’t inside the castle. Also the fact that he was still alive may have been a clue.
“We went out on the moors to try and find this duke character.”
“John said you guys went into the south wing.”
“Oh, we peeked through that door upstairs, but we decided against it. You weren’t kidding about how creepy it is, and we figured the moors were safer for a ghost hunt.”
“You could’ve told John where you were heading, you know,” I said crossly. If Gopher had simply told our sound tech where he was heading, I wouldn’t currently be risking my ass to save his.
“I left him a message,” Gopher replied testily. “If John had answered his damn phone, he would’ve known where we were!” I was pretty sure John had told Gopher that his phone was toast, but our producer didn’t listen very well. “And speaking of John,” Gopher added, “did he tell you he’s fired?”
The corner of my mouth quirked. “He did. He also said that I was fired.”
“We’re all fired, M. J.!” Gopher shouted. “I had a one a.m. deadline with Chris and that blew by over an hour ago!”
“Actually. . . ,” I said, “we sent Chris an up-close and personal encounter with the Grim Widow just after midnight. I’m pretty sure he won’t pull the plug just yet. And I’ve captured some additional footage of a couple of ghosts out on the moors. I think that’ll be enough to hold him over for now.”
“You went out on your own?” Gopher asked, and I could hear the surprise in his voice. “Wait a second, where the hell are you, M. J.?”
“Looking for you fools.”
“I repeat,” Gopher said, his voice now nervous, “where are you?”
“The south wing of the castle.”
I heard Gopher’s breath catch. “Who’s with you?”
“Nobody.”
“You’re alone?”
“Yep. Heath’s still at the hospital and I didn’t want to put anybody else in jeopardy by dragging them in here.”
“Well, get the hell out of there! It’s not safe!”
“You’re telling me,” I said. “Listen, I’ve gotta click off with you before the Widow discovers me. I’ll have Arthur use my phone to call a mechanic for the drawbridge, but you should use yours to call a cab and take that into town. Find a room somewhere until the morning, then come back. We should have the bridge down by then.”
“Okay, but send that additional footage to Chris, okay?”
I pulled the phone away from my ear and stuck my tongue out at it. Here I was risking my neck, and all he cared about was some stupid footage for his stupid boss. Putting the phone back to my ear, I whispered, “But I thought I was fired?”
Gopher chuckled. “You’re rehired, okay? Now go. Get out of there and don’t get caught.”
I clicked off the line and put the headset back on. Gilley was shouting hysterically into the microphone. “I thought I heard her moan!” he cried. “M. J.! M. J.! Are you hurt? Did the Widow kill you?”
“I’m fine, Gil.”
“She’s aliiiiiiiiiiive!”
I winced and tugged on the earphone. God, he could be shrill. “I’m coming back through the kitchen,” I told him, hoping he was done with the theatrics.
“Hey, M. J.,” John said.
I blinked. “I thought Gil was wearing the headgear?”
“He was. I had just handed it to him because you wouldn’t answer and I thought something bad had gone down. I was on my way to come find you when Gil shouted that you were okay.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not okay yet. I still have to get outta here.” I lifted the camera then and noticed that the stupid battery was running low. “Dammit. I’m almost out of charge. Listen, I’m going to go radio silent until I get off this floor. You guys just watch the camera to track my progress, okay?”
“Got it.”
I moved the mouthpiece down under my chin and checked in with Sam, who hadn’t entered my mind since I’d asked him to play lookout. He indicated that the Widow was still some distance away, so I felt it was safe to click on my flashlight and grab as many of my and Heath’s belongings as I could. Our gear was exactly where we’d left it, and I moved around the room quickly stuffing as many things as I could into my messenger bag. I managed to get two pairs of my jeans and two pairs of Heath’s jeans into the bag along with some clean underthings, and I figured we could buy some extra sweaters and toiletries in town.
I also looked around for Heath’s phone, but realized it’d probably ended up in the moat, as I knew he’d had it with him when we first went down to report the battered woman in the hall. He’d have to replace it, but it wouldn’t be the first phone we’d replaced since we joined the cast of Ghoul Getters.
After I’d done a quick but through search of the room and made sure to pick up our passports, our wallets, and the keys to my condo, I turned off my flashlight and waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark again.
Once I was sure I could make out a few shapes, I moved to the door and pressed my ear to the crack to listen for any hint of the Widow.
Sam? I asked.
It’s clear, but you should go now, M. J., Sam said.
I raised the viewfinder and pointed the lens at the door, turning the knob as silently as I could. The warning light for the low battery was starting to flash. I figured I had maybe five minutes of battery life left; then I’d be forced to use my flashlight—a scenario I didn’t much care for.
The door opened a crack and I pushed the lens through the opening, angling it first to the right, then to the left to look out into the hallway. No ghostly haggard face appeared in my viewfinder, so I stepped forward and squeezed through to the hallway.
I didn’t even bother to close the door. I just crept away on tiptoe as fast as I could.
Uh-oh, Sam said suddenly.
I stopped. What’s uh-oh?
There’s been a shift.
I put a hand over my heart, which had started to beat a whole lot faster. Shift? What kind of shift?
The kind that means you??
?d better run!
I held back a terrified shriek and bolted, running clumsily with the camera out in front of me and my messenger bag bouncing hard against my hip.
Stupidly, I’d put the extra two spikes I carried in the bag, and before I left the room, I’d forgotten to pull them back out again, and I couldn’t very well stop to dig them out, not with Sam’s ominous warning.
M. J.! Sam said.
What?
Run faster!
“Shit, shit, shit!” I hissed, turning on the speed. It was hard, because I had to thrust the arm holding the camera out in front of me so I could see, which forced me to use my other arm to pump my stride, and all the while my messenger bag flapped hard against my hip.
I reached the stairs and could see them dimly without the aid of the viewfinder, so I lowered the camera and shot down them, nearly losing my footing—I was so scared. Behind me I could feel the malevolent presence of the Widow approaching. She came on like a bad storm—fast and furious.
I was breathing so hard that I was starting to get a little light-headed by the time I reached the ground floor, and because of that, for a horrible moment I lost my bearings. For the life of me I couldn’t remember which of the four hallways surrounding the main hall I’d come from.
That brought me up short and I stared at them one at a time without really seeing them. “Which way?” I whispered. “Dammit! Which way?”
She’s coming! Sam shouted. An instant later I was hit hard from behind and I went hurtling forward, barely managing to keep on my feet. Spinning around once I’d regained my balance, I could see the Widow about fifteen feet in front of me, spitting her vile ectoplasm and dribbling green drool out of the corner of her mouth. Hissssss! she spat. She held her hands up like they’d been burned, and I had no doubt that when she’d rammed me from behind, she’d felt the blow even more than I had.
I backed up and became aware that John was shouting furiously at me. My headset had been knocked slightly askew, and no doubt he’d been alerted that something was wrong by the jostling of the camera. “Stay back!” I shouted at the Widow, pulling up the viewfinder so that I could see her more clearly.
But she only grinned evilly and lowered her chin.
“Oh, shit!” I cried, turning to run, but the Widow came at me with lightning speed and crashed into me again. This time I went tumbling forward and lost my balance; instinctively trying to save the camera from smashing into the ground, I took the fall on my left side. It hurt like a mother.
Still, I knew that if I gave in to the pain, the Widow would be on top of me in a hot second, and in the back of my mind I wondered where that big black shadow was. It couldn’t be far behind.
I curled onto my knees, then pushed myself to my feet. My headset was dangling off one ear, but the camera was intact. I pointed the lens toward the Widow again. She spat at me and waved her hands as if they were very hot.
I figured she was going to crash into me over and over again until one of us was so banged up she couldn’t move anymore. And I didn’t think it’d be her.
The door! Sam shouted so loud in my head that I winced anew. Had he also been yelling in my ear since the Widow attacked me the first time?
The door! Sam repeated, and I felt the most insistent tug on my right side. Barely able to tear my eyes away from the Widow, I glanced quickly to my right and saw the door I’d propped open. It was maybe ten feet away.
I looked back to the Widow. She’d seen me eye the door too. Her lips curled back into a snarl and she let out a ferocious cry right before she came at me.
Not waiting to get sucker punched again, I bolted and ran those ten feet so fast my feet barely touched the ground. I didn’t even stop when I got to the open door. I knew what was beyond. I’d take my chances with the drop and the thin stretch of land between the castle wall and the moat.
Leaping the last two feet through the door, I raised my chest high and waved my arms wildly, hoping I wouldn’t break a leg when I landed.
I hit the ground hard and dropped to my knees, rolling to my side and crying out in pain. I didn’t know if I’d just broken both my shins, but it sort of felt that way.
Hugging my legs, I lay there motionless for a minute as tears leaked out of my eyes. My breathing was still a little ragged, but eventually the pain in my shins subsided enough for me to become more aware of my surroundings. About then, I realized there was a pair of boots about six feet away from me. Instantly I felt a chill run up my spine, and for a moment I forgot my own pain and very slowly turned my head to follow those boots up, past a set of legs, a torso, and finally to a face. A man dressed in period attire was standing fairly close by, but he wasn’t looking at me. With hands on hips he was glaring up at the open doorway, where the Widow was just barely visible. She spat at him, then disappeared, slamming the door hard in her wake.
The minute the door slammed, the man lowered his chin and looked straight at me. My breath caught. He was a frightful-looking person, and his stare was dark and cold. For several seconds all we did was look at each other, and then, quite unexpectedly, he vanished right before my eyes.
I gulped and pushed myself to a half-sitting position, my legs still curled up underneath me. From somewhere close, I could hear a squeaking noise, and after a minute I realized that my headset had finally come completely off my head and had landed just to my left. With a groan I clawed my way over to it and picked it up. “Hello?” I said, but there was way too much yelling for anybody to hear me. I closed my eyes, gathering my voice, then shouted as loud as I could into the microphone.
There was an immediate pause; then all I heard was “She’s aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive!”
Gil seriously needed to drop the Dr. Frankenstein act.
“M. J.!” John said urgently. “Are you hurt? We saw the camera move toward the door, then fly up into the air a second before the feed cut out.”
I lifted the camera, still strapped to my hand. The battery had died at last, but the component seemed to be intact. Which was better than I could say for myself.
“I think I broke my legs,” I groaned, leaning back against the hard stone of the castle wall.
“Oh, man!” John replied, and I could tell he was pretty close to doing something stupid like charging through the south wing to my rescue. “Are you serious?”
I swallowed hard and ran my hands along my shins. “Hang on,” I told him, and very, very gingerly I stretched out first one leg, then the other. They still hurt something fierce, but they seemed to be working. I then sat up straighter and planted my feet carefully, placing a little weight on each foot. “So far so good,” I muttered.
“What does that mean?” John asked. “Are you hurt? Can you walk? Do you need me to come help you?”
“Hang on!” I repeated impatiently. Using my hands, I pushed up and managed a sort of pitiful crouch. I could support myself, which was at least half the battle. Taking one very careful small step, I let out a sigh of relief. I could walk. Just barely, but I could walk. “I’m okay,” I said at last.
John started to speak, but I cut him off. “Just a sec,” I said, taking a moment to really get a good long look at my surroundings. I was at the outside wall of the castle, trapped between a moat and a hard place. “Just my luck,” I grumbled.
I glanced up at the door I’d practically flown out of, and saw that it was still shut tight. No sign of the Widow could be seen. “At least that’s a good thing.”
“Can I talk now?” John asked.
I sighed wearily. “Yes, John, sorry. Please go ahead.”
“Where are you exactly?”
“I’m on this thin piece of land between the moat and the castle,” I said, fishing through my messenger bag to pull out my flashlight. Clicking it on, I pointed it to the bridge just down from me. “There’s an old r
ickety bridge about fifteen yards away, but there’s no way I’m crossing that thing in the dark. Who knows if it’s safe or not?”
“But you have your phone now, right?”
“I do.”
“How’s the battery?” John asked me.
I pushed away from the wall and gimped over to a nearby boulder at the edge of the moat to sit down before pulling out my cell from my bag. “I’ve still got a full charge.”
“Great. Arthur says he’s got a friend in town who can probably come out tonight and work on the drawbridge. He’s got his own boat, so he can rescue you too.”
I swiveled on the boulder to point the flashlight out over the moat. The thought of going across it in a boat gave me the willies. As the beam of the flashlight swung out over the still waters, I noticed something unnatural floating on the other side near the bank and my chest tightened.
“Hold on, M. J.,” John was saying. “Arthur is getting the number now.”
“Uh. . . John?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell Arthur to hold off on that number for a minute.”
“Why?”
“Because my first call is going to be to the police. There’s another body floating in this moat.”
Chapter 7
By the time Inspector Lumley arrived, I was chilled to the bone. He came around in a small boat being rowed by the same constable who’d jumped in after me nearly twenty-four hours earlier. Neither of them looked very happy to have been called out here again in the middle of the night, nor to find me at the scene of another drowning victim.
I’d kept a wary eye on the floating corpse. Oddly, although I’m quite comfortable communicating with the deceased, dead bodies give me the serious willies. Who the victim was I couldn’t tell, because the body was bloated and the face was submerged. But the silver hair on the back of the poor soul’s head sent a tingle of recognition through me and I seriously hoped I was wrong.
Still, I vowed to hold back any further speculation until the identity was confirmed by the authorities—assuming I stayed around here long enough to find out, that is.