What a Ghoul Wants

  “It means that we have no choice, Em. We’ve got to find a way to shut down the Widow.”

  That sobered me, and all the anger I’d felt only a moment earlier evaporated at the prospect of directly taking on a spook as powerful and deadly as the Widow. “Do you have any ideas?” I asked him.

  Heath scratched at the scruff on his chin. I noticed he hadn’t had a chance to shave that morning. “Well, we’ll have to find her portal, free the prisoners, pack the opening with magnets, and avoid getting killed in the process.”

  I sighed. I knew he was just trying to lighten the mood with a little mocking humor. “So you have no ideas—is that what you’re saying?”

  “Not a one,” he admitted.

  I sighed a second time. “I need to talk to your grandfather.”

  Heath grinned. “He hasn’t been around much on this bust, has he?”

  “Actually, he has. He helped me out the other night when I went looking for Gopher, Meg, and Kim in the south wing. He kept me safe from the Widow for as long as he could, in fact. I think he expended a ton of energy and he’s been recharging since then, but I’ve really been feeling his absence. Maybe before I catch a few z’s tonight I’ll call out to him and ask him to visit me in my dreams.”

  “Man, I hope he can help us with some ideas about how to tackle this bust. What’s your game plan for tonight’s hunt, by the way?”

  “Well, assuming the girls manage to make us all vests, I thought we could set out for the moors and possibly get some footage of the duke. . . .” My voice trailed off as I realized something.

  “What?” Heath asked.

  “You know what’s funny? We’ve heard that the Widow drove her husband mad, then he wandered off and likely drowned, but he’s the only one of her victims we’ve encountered so far that’s not chained to her. I wonder why that is.”

  “Because he died before her,” Heath said simply. “If the duke became a ghost before the Widow, he would have had time to adjust to his new state of existence, and would have not been influenced by her ghost after she died.”

  “Of course,” I said. “That’s why he was able to stare her down when he stood next to me on that little strip outside the south wing. He’s got her number, which is why I really want to find him and talk to him. He might be able to help us.”

  The castle came into view just then and we both paused along the road to stare at it. “Run all that by Gramps, though,” Heath cautioned after a moment of silence. “Also, tell him thanks for the other day. Now that I’m back hanging out with you, I remember why I like this plane so much.”

  I took up his hand and said, “Count on it, sweetie, and, from my heart, thanks for coming back to me.”

  Chapter 11

  Heath and I scouted the moors for an hour, trying to map out where we wanted to shoot and what physical objects to watch out for in the dark. Once we’d settled on a section of the moors close to the south end of the castle, we headed back to the bus stop, caught a ride into town, ate a quick lunch, then got back to check in with Gopher and the rest of the crew.

  Our illustrious producer started yelling the moment he heard where we’d been earlier that morning. “What do you mean, you sat down with the dowager of Penbigh and didn’t get it on film?! How could you let an opportunity like that go by without even thinking about capturing it?!”

  I stared at him through half-lowered lids. “It’s not like we carry a camera with us everywhere we go, Gopher.”

  Gopher reached out and grabbed my wrist. As he lifted it up dramatically, I realized I was holding my iPhone. . . the one with the built-in video recorder. I yanked my wrist out of his grasp. “I didn’t think about documenting it,” I admitted.

  “The dowager probably wasn’t gonna let us record her comments anyway, Gopher,” Heath said.

  “You could’ve at least asked,” he growled. Then he motioned for us to follow him and we did, walking the now familiar path into the dining hall. Immediately I realized that most of the section in the back had been converted to Gopher’s new command post. On the large round table he’d piled up all our ghost-hunting equipment—save for Gilley’s monitoring computer and additional view screen—and on the wall he’d posted a whole series of notes that listed things we had, things we needed, shots to consider, and a rough outline of the storyboard for the movie.

  As we walked to the table, I noticed the stiff set to Gopher’s shoulders. It’d been a long time since he’d done a movie, I knew, and maybe all this pressure from Chris at the network was starting to weigh heavily on him.

  “Here,” he said when we reached the table. I took what he’d picked up and was now handing to me. It was a small digital camera—brand-new, I noticed, a rarity on our shoots.

  “Thanks,” I said, eyeing the object moodily. “But why don’t I just use my iPhone?”

  Gopher answered me while fiddling with several other gadgets. “Because the quality on the one I just gave you is much better and it’s equipped with night vision.”

  “Really?” Heath said, taking one for himself. “But it’s so little.”

  “It’s cutting-edge,” Gopher explained. “We’ve got the budget for it now, so I figured it was okay to splurge a little.”

  “How’d you get it here so fast?”

  “The manufacturer is in Britain. I ordered these late yesterday express delivery. They came in about an hour ago. The whole crew should have one, and from here on out I want everything on film.” I couldn’t ignore the stink-eye accompanying that last remark.

  “Noted,” I said drily. I had no intention of walking around stupidly with my camera on, but when Gopher was in one of his moods, I’d learned it was best not to argue.

  Next, Gopher handed me a small object that looked very much like a Nano iPod. “That’s your new electrostatic meter,” he said before picking up a third object, which looked a bit clunky. “That’s a full-spectrum HD video recorder. It’s got an infrared sensor on both sides of it, which should allow you to see any spook even if they aren’t in full form.”

  Heath reached out and took the camera from Gopher. “No way,” he said with obvious admiration. “I read about these. The theory goes that spooks kick out a lot of infrared light even when they’re powered down.”

  “That’ll be good out on the moors,” I said, thinking the duke wasn’t likely to be as powerful as the Widow, and therefore less likely to hold a full form as he wandered the moors. Maybe we could find him more readily by using this newest gizmo. “And speaking of gadgets, has anyone seen Gil?”

  “He and Michel went into town a while ago,” Gopher told me.

  I remembered that I’d asked Gil to get Heath a new cell phone, but I didn’t think it would take this long. I glanced at my watch and asked, “How long ago, Gopher? Do you remember?”

  He shrugged. “Right after the meeting, I think.”

  I felt my jaw clench. That was several hours before. “He should’ve been back by now. I assigned him a ton of research I need by tonight.”

  Gopher looked at me critically. “And you thought he’d listen?”

  I growled low in my throat and marched away from the table, intent on finding Gilley and knocking some sense into him. Preferably with a large heavy object.

  Heath came to my side, still carrying the full-spectrum camera. “This thing is too cool.”

  “You’ll keep saying that until the Widow fills the screen.”

  “Good point,” he said. “You heading out to have a talk with our little buddy?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “I’m going to kill Gil.”

  Heath chuckled. “Well, Uma, it’s a good thing I’m coming along, then.”

  We spent the next two hours looking for Gilley and Michel. Heath a
nd I rode the bus back into town, and searched all the cellular stores (okay, so there were only two, but they were at opposite ends of town). We checked the restaurants, library, park. No sign of them. All the while I repeatedly texted and called Gilley, with no reply, and as the time went by without a hint of either of them, I could feel a tightening in my chest and my worst fears about Gilley’s well-being began filling my mind. At last, Heath and I went back to the castle, and as we got off the bus, I saw a taxi pull up, and Gil and Michel got out, giggling and nudging each other playfully.

  After closing the car door, Gilley tapped at his phone dramatically, placed it to his ear, and waved at Michel, when the shiny new phone he was carrying began to ring.

  I balled my hands into fists as I began to make my way to the pair. Meanwhile Michel put the phone to his ear and said, “Hello?”

  In an awful upper-crust English accent, Gil said, “Collect call from London, Michel. Will you accept the charges?”

  Michel laughed and said, “No!”

  To which Gilley replied, “Very well! The queen will call back!”

  Both of them dissolved into a fit of giggles and were I not so furious, I might have found them funny too. “Gilley!” I yelled, and both he and Michel jumped, their giggling coming to an abrupt end.

  “Uh-oh,” Gil muttered as he spun around to see me. “Hey, M. J.! I got Heath his cell phone.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out another phone, which he meekly offered up to me.

  By now I was so mad I couldn’t even form a sentence. “You. . . I. . . told. . . research!”

  Gilley sighed. Knowing he was in trouble, he adopted a completely different attitude. Disdain. “Shrieking like that isn’t a good look for you, honey.”

  For a second I saw red and I flew at Gilley, ready to thump him but good. Heath caught me around the waist and turned with me in a half circle until I stopped clawing the air and threatening to cause Gil great bodily harm.

  When I’d regained my composure (translation: when I’d stopped frothing at the mouth), Heath turned me back to face the two truants and this time I noticed that Gil appeared a little less confident about being in my presence.

  “It took forever to get the phones,” he said lamely.

  I didn’t even bother to answer. I just glared at him. For all I was worth.

  “Okay, okay!” Gil finally said. “I’ll head in and get you your precious research!”

  “I want it by tonight!” I yelled as he and Michel hurried to get away from me.

  After they’d gone on ahead, Heath’s soft laughter filled my ears. Finally feeling the relief of discovering that Gilley was okay and letting go of some of my anger, I couldn’t help but smile too. “Not too loud or you’ll encourage him,” I said to Heath.

  “Oh, I think he’s way past needing encouragement, Em.”

  “The little bugger,” I grumbled. “He has some nerve giving me that attitude. Not a good look for me. . . can you believe he said that?”

  “Well, you did kind of embarrass him in front of Michel,” Heath said gently. “And Gilley definitely has a thing for the photographer.”

  “Damn,” I said.

  “What?”

  “You’re making me feel bad about yelling at him.”

  “Oh, you had every right to yell, babe. I mean—he had it coming.”

  “Yeah,” I said, feeling considerably less guilty now that Heath reminded me of that.

  Just then we saw Michel spin around and hurry back up the path to us. “I almost forgot to ask. Did you want me to e-mail you the photos I took? Or should I just send them to Gopher?”

  That came as a surprise. “You already took the photos of the castle?”

  Michel nodded. “Before we went into town. It didn’t take long.”

  “Did you wear a vest?” I asked, seeing that he had nothing more protective on than a light coat.

  “Gilley wore his sweatshirt and stuck close to me. We never came into danger.”

  “Ah. . . ,” I said, at a loss for words. “I guess you can e-mail the photos to both me and Gopher. Gilley’s got the addresses.”

  Michel nodded and was off again to Gilley’s side. As I stared at them and the way they so easily fell into step together, I wondered if Gil had at last met someone special. I hoped so. He’d been having a hell of a dry spell for nearly a year and a half now. And as long as I’d known him, Gil had never before had a dry spell longer than a month or two.

  “They make a good pair,” Heath said.

  I bumped him playfully with my shoulder. “You softy.”

  He looped his arm around me. “It’d be nice to see Gil have someone special in his life. I think it’s been hard on him being our third wheel all this time.”

  “Yeah. You’re right. It would be good for Gil. Just as long as he doesn’t get too distracted from his job.”

  Heath chuckled. “You say that like you actually believe he won’t.”

  I grinned. “Wishful thinking. Come on, let’s check in with the girls and see how the vests are coming along.”

  Once we were back at the castle, I went up to Meg and Kim’s room to check on their progress, while Heath went in search of Gilley to retrieve the cell phone we’d both forgotten to take from him. To my surprise and relief Meg and Kim had completed five of the eight vests we’d need. “That one’s yours,” Kim said. “But there’s a problem.”

  “What’s that?” I asked, picking up the heavy garment and trying it on. Once I had it zipped, it really wasn’t uncomfortable or overly heavy.

  “We’re running out of magnets. I figure we’ll only have enough for six vests.”

  “Gil’s got some reserves,” I suggested, remembering the packs of magnets he’d stuffed his pockets with on the night he’d given me his sweatshirt. I knew he’d added many of those to the sweatshirt once he’d gotten it back, but still, he had to have a lot left over.

  “He already gave us all his extras,” Kim said.

  My brow furrowed. “When?” I knew Kim and Meg had left the meeting early, and Gopher had said that Gil and Michel had gone into town right after the meeting.

  “We bumped into him when he and Michel were coming in from taking some photos of the castle. He told us he had a few packets we could use upstairs, which was good, because we really underestimated the number of magnets we’d need per vest. We’ve already used all of Gilley’s extra packs up, and the ones we bought this morning.”

  I looked at my watch. It was already quarter to five and we’d never have time to make a third trip to town and try to hunt for more magnets before the night’s shoot. “Crap. Okay, so Gil can just wear his sweatshirt until we get more magnets tomorrow.”

  “But that still leaves one person without protection.”

  “I know,” I said, trying to think through the issue. The problem was that anyone out in the field tonight would absolutely need a vest.

  “We could undo some of the ones we’ve finished and take out a few magnets here and there,” Kim suggested.

  “How many magnets have you put in each vest?” I asked. My own vest felt packed with a small stack of magnets in each quilt.

  “Fifty. We doubled up in a few places because we wanted to make sure we’re all protected.”

  I tapped my lip, still calculating in my head. “Gilley’s sweatshirt had at least that many and the Widow still hit me pretty hard when I encountered her. No. . . don’t take out any from the ones that are done. Someone’s going to have to stay behind tonight.”

  “Who?” they asked in unison.

  “Someone who’s not going to like it,” I muttered. I didn’t want to tell them before I’d had a chance to talk with my chosen person. “Listen, you two keep up the great work. We’re all heading to dinner in about an hour. Do
you think you can finish the last vest before then?”

  Kim held up the garment she was working on. “It’s almost there, M. J.”

  “Awesome. You guys rock. I’ll send John up to help you carry these down and we’ll hand them out at dinner, but I’ll take mine and Heath’s for now.” With that, I bid them adieu and headed back downstairs to the dining hall.

  I found Gopher on the phone, pacing back and forth. He wasn’t talking much, but he was absently nodding his head. I had a feeling Chris was on the other end of the line. “Yeah, buddy, I know,” Gopher said while I waited patiently for him to end the call. “We’ll work on getting more of her on film. I think we’re going back into that wing tonight or tomorrow.” There was a pause, then, “Okay, you got it. We’ll definitely go there tonight.”

  My left eyebrow arched. There was no way we were going back into the Widow’s wing tonight. I didn’t feel prepared and I knew the crew would be on edge until we’d at least done some preliminary shooting as a group.

  Once Gopher hung up, I first confronted him about what he’d just agreed to. “We’re not going hunting for the Widow tonight, Gopher.”

  My producer set his phone down and pinched the bridge of his nose. “M. J., please. . . not now. I’ve got a killer headache.”

  I stood there silently for a beat. I didn’t want to let the subject drop, because he’d interpret that as backing down.

  Gopher let go of the bridge of his nose and sighed. “What?”

  I held up Heath’s vest. “We’re about out of magnets.”

  “So?”

  “So, we’re one vest shy of making our quota for the group.”

  “Can’t someone just carry some spikes?”

  “No. We’ll need the spikes in case we encounter the Widow or her black phantom.”

  Gopher’s brow rose with interest. “What black phantom?”

  At first I was frustrated with his question, because I was fairly certain we’d talked about it in his presence, but Gopher’s listening skills weren’t great, and with the added stress he was under lately, I had to concede he wasn’t exactly taking a lot in. So I patiently explained that when John and I had been trapped in the south wing, a black phantomlike creature had chased us down the hall. “Was this thing human?” Gopher asked. “I mean, not human, but the ghost of a human?”