Free Ghost Walk by Cassandra Gannon Page B

fucking hanged me on the very street you
walk along every day.  They left my body strung up for three days, with a sign
around my neck calling me a murderer!  That’s not something I can let go of!”
    “You’re
not even trying to…”
    He
cut her off before she could offer another denial.  “You have to help me,
Grace.”  He scraped a hand through his hair, pacing up and down the length of
her small parlor.  “I need to know who’s responsible for killing me.  Because
whoever murdered those girls?  He was the one who should’ve died at the
hands of that mob.  Not me.  Him .  He killed me too and I want to know
the bastard’s name.”
    “That’s
impossible…”  The phone rang, interrupting her protest.
    Jamie
shot it an annoyed look.  Telephones were not a part of modernity that he
enjoyed.  They were forever making shrill infernal sounds and, more
importantly, it was damn hard to eavesdrop on only one side of a conversation. 
That seriously impacted his social life.  With no one to talk to, Jamie spent most
of his time listening to other people talk.  That was much harder to do
when one of the parties was only there via a plastic contraption.  It was like
only seeing half of a movie.  Phones, texting, email… They were all a pain in
the ass.
    He
arched a brow when Grace sat there and let the phone ring, again and again.  Odd. 
In his experience the living always jumped at the chance to play with their
technology.  “Not going to get that?”  He prompted.
    “Nope.” 
Grace drank some more wine.
    “Why
not?”
    “Because
I already know who it is and my night’s been lousy enough without anyone
reading my mind.”

Chapter Four
     
    June
21, 1789-  Eugenia and I had tea with Clara Vance today, as I was too bored to
think of a reason to postpone it.  Her company only added to my ennui.  All she
talked off was witches, for God’s sake!  Like the Puritans of old!  Her new
fixation seems to be those fortunetellers, the Riveras.  Her father, the
Reverend Vance, warned her they’re devil spawn or some such nonsense.  So she’s
taken to crossing herself when she passes by their shop and now my dreary
sister Eugenia vows that she will, too.
    I
cannot imagine a more tedious Sunday afternoon!
    From
the Journal of Miss Lucinda Wentworth
     
    “Grace?” 
The woman’s voice was demanding and full of authority.  “It’s your Auntie Serenity. 
I know you’re there, so you might as well pick up the phone.  Hiding
won’t do any good.  I’m a psychic , in case you’ve forgotten.  I know everything. ”
    Grace
sank deeper to her collection of pillows, at least half of which were decorated
with flowers or mermaids.  All of her attention stayed fixed on her carton of vanilla
ice cream.  “I’m not hearing her say ‘I told you so,’ right now.  No way.”
    “I
told you so about Robert.”  Serenity said, as if on cue.
    Grace
sighed, her gaze rising up to the ceiling in a silent bid for patience.
    Jamie
arched a brow.  “Your aunt is a psychic?” 
    “She’s
a tarot card reader, if you want to get technical.  My family owns a palm
reading and herb shop, here in town.  The Crystal Ball.”  Resigned brown eyes
met his.  “I’m sure you’ve heard of it.  It’s been here since the Revolution,
much to Harrisonburg’s dismay.”
    Oh,
he’d heard of it alright.  “Donea be telling me, you’re part of those Riveras?”  This uptight little creature came from the most eccentric band of
fortunetellers this side of Richmond?  Well, that explained the magic he sensed
in Grace and why she was trying so hard to suppress it.  Death hadn’t done away
with Jamie’s sense of humor, so he started laughing.  “Bit of the odd-duck your
family, are ya, love?”
    Just
like he’d been.  It was a pleasant surprise to have something in common with
this fay girl, even if it was just the fact they both had trouble fitting in
with their relatives.
    She
didn’t appreciate