Free Latham's Landing by Tara Fox Hall

okay as long as we work together.” He
paused. “When I shot the ghost, she backed off. Maybe objects
disrupt her materializing—”
    “ The boat’s gone,” Marie said
hollowly.
    “ We have to stick together,” Daryl said
raggedly, his eyes flashing angrily. “Maybe there’s another
boat—”
    “ That’s your plan?” Marie said
sarcastically. “Our friends are dead, we’re surrounded by ghosts,
but we’re okay, because you’ve got a plan.” She began to laugh, the
sound brittle and cracked.
    “ Screaming and having hysterics isn’t
going to help us,” Daryl said, gritting his teeth. “Being calm and
thorough might.”
    “ And it might not,” Marie said darkly.
“You haven’t seen what I’ve seen.”
    “ I saw that woman,” Daryl yelled,
losing his composure. “Stop being a bitch. Do you think she’s gone?
Whatever that ghost wanted, it wasn’t to light our way
home!”
    Marie leapt to her feet. “Are you trying to
scare me, ass? Is that why you dragged us all out here, to use us
as experiments in your damned paper?”
    “ Maybe I was hoping for something to
happen,” Daryl yelled back. “And it did. I’ve got a paper now,
maybe even a bestselling novel.”
    Marie stared at him.
    Daryl held out his hand to her. “Come inside
with me. Let’s get our stuff, and head to the boathouse—”
    “ No,” Marie said, stooping to pick up
the gun. “I’m not waiting. I’m getting off this island now.” She
pointed the gun at him. “But you aren’t. Get inside.”
    Daryl gaped at her.
    “ This was your idea,” Marie hissed.
“You wanted to know about fear. Here’s your answer, Daryl. Go
inside.”
    “ No,” Daryl said calmly. “You won’t
shoot me—”
    Marie fired. The bullet took a wad of flesh
from Daryl’s arm. He screamed.
    “ Go in,” she growled. “Or die out here
instead right now.”
    Daryl gave a final anguished look, then went
inside. Marie shut the door.
    “ Good play,” a charming voice said in
her ear.
    Marie whirled around. A handsome young man
stood there, dressed in a riding suit. Behind him a bay horse
stepped nervously, the leather of the English saddle he bore
shining. The water was receding.
    Light suddenly shone from within the house,
then steadily grew brighter. Daryl began to scream, pounding on the
door.
    “ You’ll fit right in here,” the
handsome man said with a wink. He smiled widely, then bared long
white teeth. He held out his hand. “Come.”
    Marie took a deep breath, and fired the gun.
The blast knocked her backward into the house, even as the menacing
ghost rippled, its wail of frustration loud as the gunshot. She
landed on the floor, even as the gun slipped from her hands.
    Daryl scrambled toward her on all fours,
grasped the gun, and fired several times at the looming woman in
green. She gave an angry snarl, and disappeared.
    The gun clicked on empty. Daryl threw it
down. “Grab your stuff!” he shouted. “Hurry!”
    Marie grabbed her bag and lantern, then ran
after Daryl. They slogged through the retreating water, then up a
sharp incline, their feet finally finding steps. Gasping, they
climbed, finally emerging on a small granite landing. A small
garage stood there.
    Daryl tried the door. It was padlocked.
Grabbing a loose piece of granite, he smashed the padlock off.
Quickly, then stumbled inside and shut the door. Exhausted, they
sank down to the concrete floor.
    “ We should be safe here,” Daryl said.
“That woman is the dangerous one, and I think she’s confined to the
house.”
    “ But she’s not the only one,” Marie
whispered. She pulled paper out of her pocket, and handed it to
him.
    Daryl opened up the soggy paper carefully. On
it was a drawing of a riderless horse standing on the long stone
bridge to the Sea Room, broken reins dangling, its bright saddle
askew. Rain pooled at its feet, lightning in the sky around a full
moon illuminating the wet stones where a crumpled figure lay in a
riding outfit, his limbs