Ghost Town (39 page)

He returned to the table. Amber and Drew were holding hands, and while both of them had circles under their eyes from lack of sleep, they were smiling. It made a difference, having someone special to share the hard times with. He glanced at Jenn as he sat down beside her and couldn't help feeling a bit jealous at what Drew and Amber had together.

He started to take a sip of his beer, but everyone else was drinking soda. He felt suddenly self-conscious, so he put the beer down on the table without drinking from the bottle. He would pace himself this time.

No music played in the hotel bar. Maybe because it was still technically morning, at least for a few more minutes. But Trevor figured that after what the media were calling the “riot” the night before, the bartender felt silence was more appropriate. Trevor would have appreciated some music, though. It might help to take their minds off things, at least a little.

Jenn looked worse than either Drew or Amber. Her face was drawn, her eyes red and puffy as if she had been crying. He had offered to stay in her room the night before, just so she wouldn't have to be alone. She had thanked him but said she wanted to be alone. Trevor had told her he understood and tried not to view it as
a rejection, but that morning, it still stung a little. From the look of her, she hadn't gotten any sleep at all, and if she had, he doubted that her dreams had been pleasant. His sure hadn't been.

“I'm sorry I'm not in the Exhibition Hall selling your books,” Jenn said. She looked down at the tabletop as she spoke. “I'm just not up to working right now.”

“No worries,” Trevor said. He smiled. “Besides, it's not as if there are many people left to buy them.”

A lot of the conference attendees had checked out of the hotel that morning and left town. Most of them had been in attendance at the parade, Trevor guessed, and that encounter with the paranormal had been too intense for even the most enthusiastic among them. They probably couldn't wait to get the hell out of Exeter.

He considered reaching over to take Jenn's hand, but she had been distant since the night before, and he was unsure how she would react. So he kept his hand to himself.

After Amber and Jenn had caused the gigantic wave to slam into the Dark Lady's rooftop, Trevor thought they had all died. The darkness had seemed to go on forever. But then they awoke in Jenn's store, soaked to the bone and lying on a floor covered with sodden books. A quick look through the shattered store window showed that the Dark Lady's spell had been broken and the parade goers were no longer attacking one another. Of the Dark Lady herself, there was no sign. Trevor had expected her to make a reappearance then, laughing maniacally because they had failed to defeat her. But she hadn't, and while he still wasn't one-hundred-percent confident that she was gone for good, he was beginning to feel cautiously optimistic.

He looked at Drew. “Have you heard anything from Connie?”

When they had woken in Forgotten Lore, Greg's spirit was gone from Connie's body. She had no memory of what had occurred while Greg was in control, and she was extremely confused and more
than a little freaked out. Otherwise, she was seemingly no worse for the wear. Whether Amber's wave had forced Greg to vacate his host or he had left voluntarily because their work was done, Trevor didn't know. Greg was a pain in the ass, and he couldn't condone his hijacking someone else's body, but he was surprised to realize that he was going to miss the jerk—although he would never admit it to Drew and Amber.

“I feel sorry for her,” Amber said. “One minute she's walking into a restroom, and the next it's almost twelve hours later, she's in some bookstore she's never seen before, and she's drenched with river water.”

“I wonder if she'll check herself into her own hospital,” Trevor said.

Drew smiled. “I doubt it. Knowing Connie, my guess is that she'll work hard to suppress the experience and act like it never happened. I won't be surprised if she doesn't mention it at all when I get back to work tomorrow.”

“Work? If I were you, my boy, I'd take a week off—at least!” They turned to see Carrington walking toward their table, grinning as if he was in fine humor today. He didn't only look as if he had gotten a full night's sleep, but he looked refreshed and recharged, as if he had just returned from a restful vacation.

Erin, on the other hand, looked as bad as Jenn. Still, she managed a wan smile as she and Carrington joined them.

Carrington had been there in the bookstore when they had awakened, wet but not drowned. Erin had escaped injury during the riot, probably because she had been unconscious through most of it. Her body showed no signs of the burns she had suffered or the sword thrust she had taken to the chest. As Drew had predicted, the injuries had all been in her mind, and when the Dark Lady's spell was broken, Erin awoke, unhurt. Physically, at least. Psychologically was another matter, Trevor thought.

“A vacation
does
sound good right now,” Amber said. “And it
would give us time to pack up all my stuff. Not that I have all that much.”

“Pack?” Trevor said. “Am I to take this as a sign that the two of you are going to quit hemming and hawing and move in together?”

Both Amber and Drew smiled.

“Yes,” Amber said. “I'm going to move into Drew's place in Chicago and start looking for work. Who knows? Maybe I'll start taking classes at one of the colleges there, too.”

“You could always hang out your shingle as a ‘psychic advisor,' ” Carrington said. “You are prodigiously talented in that area.”

“Thanks, but I don't think I want to give up my amateur standing just yet. I don't know what field I might want to go into. I thought I might start by taking classes that I find interesting and see where they lead me.”

“Good plan,” Trevor said. “Just don't let Drew try to talk you into studying psychology. One headshrinker on our team is enough.”

“In that case, she shouldn't go into journalism,” Drew shot back. “One loud-mouthed writer on our team is enough.”

Trevor grinned, picked up his beer, raised it to Drew in a mock toast, and took a sip.

“I'm just glad things weren't worse,” Jenn said.

Erin turned toward her, showing some animation for the first time since she sat down.

“
Worse?
Ray, Sarah, and Pattie died yesterday, and so did Chief Hoffman. How could it possibly have been any worse?”

In the aftermath of all the chaos and confusion, it had taken a while for them to get hold of the police. But eventually, they had, and that's when they learned of Sarah's and Pattie's deaths.

Jenn's jaw muscles tightened, but she managed to remain calm. “I was thinking about all the people at the parade. Who knows how many would've died if the Dark Lady hadn't been stopped?”

They had defeated the Dark Lady, but not before a half-dozen additional people were killed in the street and dozens more had been injured.

Erin still looked upset, but she didn't argue any further. Trevor thought he understood. Ray, Sarah, and Pattie had been her crew, her friends, and she felt responsible for their deaths.

“I keep wondering if there was something we could've done to stop her sooner,” Amber said. “If we had—”

“It's normal to feel that way,” Drew said. “I've thought the same thing, and so has Trevor, I bet.”

Trevor nodded, and Drew continued. “But the only one responsible for any of the deaths that happened—if the word
one
applies—is the Dark Lady. We need to be like Jenn and try to focus on all the lives we did save.”

“There's one death she wasn't responsible for,” Amber said.

“That wasn't your fault,” Trevor said. “You were in the center of the Dark Lady's power. With all the psychokinetic energy flying around, you couldn't help tapping into it. It's what allowed you to manifest that gigantic wave—” He turned to Jenn. “With some help. It's what saved us all.”

“It didn't save Mitch,” she said softly.

Greg had told them that illusions could kill if they were charged with enough power. When Amber had manifested a sword and plunged it into Mitch's heart, the resultant energy discharge had caused him to suffer cardiac arrest. Unlike Erin, who had fallen to an illusory sword of far less power, he would never get up again. Trevor wasn't planning on shedding any tears for Mitch Sagers, but he wished he hadn't died, if only so his death wouldn't lie heavily on Amber's conscience.

Jenn reached across the table and took Amber's hand. “I know you didn't want to hurt him. You only wanted to stop him. But the things he planned to do to you—and me . . . The Dark Lady may have pushed him over the edge, but I can tell you this: she didn't
have to push very hard. Trevor's right. You save us. Saved
me.
And I'll always be grateful.”

Amber met Jenn's gaze, and the two women smiled at each other. Jenn squeezed Amber's hand once before letting go.

“Have you seen the video of last night?” Carrington asked. “It's absolutely chilling.”

“How could we miss it?” Trevor said. “Seems like it's been playing nonstop on every TV channel and Internet news site in existence.”

True to what they had told the Dark Lady, the media had descended in force on Exeter in the aftermath of the riot. The story was too juicy to ignore: mysterious deaths occurring in the Most Haunted Town in America, culminating in a full-on riot during a Halloween parade. Several local TV stations had been on hand during the action, in addition to parade goers who had escaped being caught in the Dark Lady's spell. Parade goers with video cameras and cell phones. Footage of the riot, both professional and amateur, had begun showing up on news stations and the Internet almost immediately. Much of the video had been distorted by electronic interference, but enough of it remained clear. Exeter had possessed a certain small amount of fame before, but after this, it would be forever infamous. If paranormal investigators and enthusiasts had been drawn to the town before, they would come in droves after this. The Dark Lady had created the very situation she had wanted to avoid. Trevor doubted that would be any comfort to those who had died and their loved ones, though.

“The images are horrible,” Amber said. “Somehow it's even worse that none of the Dark Lady's illusions were recorded. Seeing ordinary people attack each other so savagely . . .” She trailed off.

“I'm a little ashamed to admit this,” Trevor said, “but part of me is disappointed that the illusions didn't show up on film. If they had, then we finally would've had definitive proof of the existence of the supernatural.”

“Certain open-minded individuals might believe such images,” Carrington said, “along with those already predisposed to believe, of course. But most people would tell themselves it was all just special effects. A trick created by some computer program. They don't want to believe. They need to pretend they live in a sane, rational universe. If they knew that beings such as the Dark Lady existed among them, they would never feel safe again.” He paused and then added, “I know I won't, not completely.” Carrington turned to Erin. “I know it may be too early to ask this, my dear, but have you considered what you're going to do about your film?”

She glared at him. “Why? Afraid that all the fabulous footage we shot of you pontificating will go to waste?”

Carrington stiffened, but he managed to keep his tone even as he replied. “Believe it or not, after last night, I've rather lost my taste for the limelight. I was thinking about you. I would think continuing to work on the project would be extremely difficult for you after everything that's happened. But on the other hand, not finishing it might be just as difficult.”

Erin continued glaring at him for a moment, but then she sighed, and the anger drained out of her. “You're right. The last thing I want to do now is make a film about ghosts. I don't care how much publicity it might get or how much it might advance my career. But I don't want to throw away all the work that Alex, Ray, Sarah, and Pattie did. I don't know what to do.”

Drew looked thoughtful. “Maybe you could keep a lot of what you've already shot but change the focus of your film.”

“What do you mean?” Erin said.

“Covering the town's reputation for paranormal activity is the obvious approach,” Drew said. “But there's another story behind that, a story most people don't know about.”

Amber smiled. “You're talking about the flood victims.”

“That's a great idea!” Trevor said. “After last night, so many other
people are going to report on Exeter, and that means your original approach will no longer be so original. Focusing on the flood victims will give your film a fresh slant.”

“Plus, it would be a nice tribute to those who died in the flood,” Amber said. “Who knows? It might even make them rest easier.”

“And you can dedicate the film to the memory of your crew,” Carrington said.

Erin thought about it for several moments, and then she slowly smiled. “It could work,” she said. “And I think the gang would appreciate it.”

“I'm sure they would,” Carrington said. “I don't know if I'm the right person for that sort of film, but I'll be happy to help out in any way I can, either in front of or behind the camera.”

“Thanks,” Erin said, genuine gratitude in her voice.

“When will you find the time?” Trevor said to Carrington. “Won't you be too busy writing a book about what happened this weekend?” He didn't mean for it to come out as snotty as it sounded, but he didn't take his words back.

Carrington didn't appear offended, however. “I think that I'll leave the writing chores to you from now on. Despite how frightening it all was, and putting aside for the moment the terrible losses that occurred, this weekend I finally had the chance to experience the paranormal up close and personal.” He smiled. “A little
too
close, I'm afraid. Still, I'm grateful to have had that experience. In many ways, it's the culmination of my career. But it also showed me that I've spent my entire adult life focusing on death. I think I'm going to try focusing on life for a change, while I still can.”