Ghost Walk (28 page)

“Not
exactly.”  Grace turned with the pistol in her hand, aiming it right at Ned. 
“I might shoot
him
, though.  I’m still half-convinced he’s a murderer
and I’d like to solve this whole thing quickly, so we can be on our way to
Jamaica.”

The
remainder of the crowd took off running, even more scared of an armed witch
then an armed pirate.  All except Eugenia who just rolled her eyes.  She’d
always been the brains of the Wentworth family.

“The
only murderer here is Riordan!”  Ned snapped.  “He’s the one who killed
Lucinda, not me!”

Jamie
ignored that and arched a brow at Grace.  “We’re going to Jamaica?  Why are we
going to Jamaica?”

“I’m
planning a honeymoon cruise.”

His
lips curved at that happy news.  “You’re staying this time, then?”

“Yep.” 
She shot him a quick glance.  “I’ve signed on with you for good, Captain.”

Jamie
couldn’t have been more thrilled to hear that.  “Well, I’m sure I can find
something
to do with you aboard ship.”  He assured her lasciviously.

Grace
arched a brow at him.  “And in the meantime,” she glanced back at Ned, who was
silently fuming, “I’m going to need some fingerprints from both of you.”  She
yanked the mermaid pendant from her neck and held it out to him.  “Press your
thumb onto this, please.”

Ned
and Clara looked at her like she was deranged.

Even
Jamie squinted slightly at the odd request.  “What is this about now?”  He
whispered.

“It’s
about me being amazingly good at my job.”

***

“We
could just go to Jamaica
now
.”  Jamie offered.  “Whatever it is you’re
doing with that pendant, I can’t imagine it’s as important as having rollicking
sex on our ship.”

“Can
you focus, please?”

Grace
didn’t have her forensics kit in 1789, but she did have her family’s collection
of potions, powders, and unidentified goo.  The Crystal Ball had fully stocked
shelves and, after some experimentation, she found that ground up mothswort
worked just fine as fingerprint powder.  Loyal told her to use as much as she
wanted, just so she didn’t make too much noise or bother him.

…And
just so long as she paid.

Riveras
really never changed.

“How
about that useful, can’t miss investment tip I promised in exchange for the
mothwart?”  Grace had offered, when he started nagging her about money.

“Something
from
this century?
”  He’d challenged.  “Knowing to buy ‘Microsoft stock’
in the 1980s does me a shitload of good.”  He’d added some air quotes around
the words.  “And that’s the only kind of vague financial advice our relatives
seem to know.”

“Fine.”
 She’d wracked her brain for something useful to tell him and then arched a
brow.  “I know!  The cotton gin’s going to be huge in a few years.  There.  You’re
welcome.”

“What’s
a cotton gin?  Some kinda booze?”  He’d looked over at Jamie who’d shrugged.

Grace
had disregarded their confusion, because she was on a schedule.  “Now go away
and let us work.”  She’d told Loyal and he hadn’t argued.

Currently,
he was upstairs, reading a Danielle Steele book that some time traveling
relation had left behind.  It was clearly more important to him than running
the shop or Grace’s problems.  It was no wonder the family was always broke. 
No Rivera had ever understood the concept of “business hours.”  In the
meantime, she and Jamie had taken over the entire shop, closing it for the day,
while she worked on the investigation.

Also,
it was a convenient place to hide from the angry citizens who no doubt still
wanted her and Jamie dead.

“How
can I focus when I donea even know what the bloody hell you’re doing?”  Jamie
hoisted himself up onto a tabletop, absently playing with some futuristic
doohickey that looked a little like a glowing Slinky.  Whenever that whatsit
was from, it sure hadn’t been invented in the early twenty-first century. 
Grace wasn’t even going to
ask
who’d given it to Loyal, because it would
probably cause some rip in the space-time continuum for her to know.  She’d
seen
Back to the Future
, so she was taking no chances.

“I
told you, I’m comparing fingerprints.”  She’d tried explaining a sanitized
version of everything, but it was still a lot of information for him to process,
even omitting the “Hey, by the way, you die today!” spoiler.  She glanced at
Jamie, trying to get him to understand how vital it was that they catch the
killer
now
.

It
was July 4
^th
.  The day he was hanged.  They didn’t have much time.

She
cleared her throat.  “When I came back this afternoon, I still had the shawl in
my hand.”

“Aye
and quite a lovely thing it is.”  He wrinkled his nose at the heap of stained
lace on the table.  “You say it’s Clara’s?”

“Yes. 
She’s going to wear it when she dies tonight.  And you see this?”  She pointed
the dried thumbprint on the edge of the cloth.  “There’s only two people this
could belong to:  Clara and the guy who killed her.  I got Clara and Ned’s
fingerprints on the pendant for comparison.  I’ve already excluded her as the
source of the print, so now I’m trying to figure out if it’s Ned’s.  It’s
simple fingerprint analysis.”

Jamie
squinted a bit.  “Right.  …And what’s fingerprint analysis again?”

Crap. 
Had that not been invented yet?  No wonder he was so confused.  “Don’t worry
about it.  I know what I’m doing.”  She picked up a magnifying glass and went
back to comparing the prints.  “If I can prove Edward Hunnicutt’s the killer we
can stop him and be out of here by tonight.”

“That
does seem a grand idea.”  Jamie admitted.  “What if this ‘analysis’ proves he’s
not
the killer?”

“Then
our travel plans will be delayed.”  And, unfortunately, that was exactly what
happened.

Ned’s
thumbprint didn’t match the killer’s.

Double
crap.  Grace got to her feet with a frustrated sigh.  There went their best
suspect.  “Alright.”  She ran a hand through her hair, trying to think.  “It
wasn’t Ned.”

Jamie
rolled his eyes.  “Can we kill him anyway?”

“
Focus
.” 
She repeated sternly.  “The good news is, we still have the killer’s fingerprint. 
We can identify him, once we find him.  The bad news is, we have to --you
know--
find
him.”

She
checked the grandfather clock in the corner.  It was situated in the exact same
place two centuries from now.  Sort of.  In 2001, her cousin Desire accidently
sent it into a neighboring dimension, but you could still hear it ticking away,
year after year.  God only knew how Serenity kept it wound.  According to its
always-accurate timekeeping, there were just six hours and counting until Jamie
was hanged on the street.

Triple
crap.

“You
could use a spell to find him.”  Jamie suggested.

“After
the debacle with Aggie Northhandler?”

“That
was
Loyal’s
magic.  Use your own, lass.  I sense it inside of you.  Just
tap into it.”

Grace
shook her head.  “I only know two spells and once of them is for menstrual
cramps.”

Jamie
shot her the same fond look he always got when he was amused by her supposed
“odd-ducky-ness”  “What does the other spell do?”

“I’m
not sure.”  She’d never tested it.  Neither had anybody else in her family. 
…And if the Riveras resisted using a spell, you knew it had to be bad.  They’d
been on a century-long quest to reinvented
troll powder
, for God’s
sake.  “It’s the Rivera Doomsday Spell.  We all learn it.  It’s the magic you
pull out when you have absolutely no other option.  Nobody has ever been
desperate enough to cast it.”

Jamie
looked just as intrigued by that as he did the first time she’d explained it. 
“Sounds quite promising.”

“Sounds
quite dangerous.”  Grace corrected, heading over to look at Loyal’s shelves for
some kind of inspiration.  “Concentrate.  Who else in this town might have a
fixation on Lucinda?”

“Just
about every male at The Raven, for starters.”  He’d clearly rather be
discussing the Doomsday Spell.

“Who
specifically, though?  It’s probably someone who knows her and maybe had a
grudge against her.”  Grace plucked a vial from Loyal’s shelf of potions and
dropped it into her pocket.  Anti-magic leanings aside, it didn’t hurt to be
prepared for Plan B.  “Maybe some guy who…”  She stopped a new idea popping
into her head.  “Wait!  Remember when you said you’d always thought Lucinda had
been killed by a man who she’d turned down?”

“No.”

“Well,
that’s because you haven’t said it yet.”  When was that memory potion going to
kick in, anyway?  “Point is, she didn’t turn down
that
many men.”  Grace
held up her palms.  “Now, I’m not slut-shaming the girl.  I’m just saying she
was into sexual liberation
way
before most people.”

“She
liked to pass a good time.”  Jamie agreed with a shrug.

“Right. 
In my time, she’d have her own reality show and a teen makeup line.  In this
century, though, she was a bit unusual.  So, maybe you were right, all along.”

“I
so often am.”

Grace
ignored that, her mind racing for another likely suspect.  “Maybe Lucinda
turned down someone who took it personally that she’d sleep with
other
men, but not him.  That would give us a new place to start looking for
suspects.  Who did Lucinda rebuff?  Did she tell you anything about that?”

Jamie
made a considering face.  “Well, she turned down Gregory Maxwell’s advances
about twice a week.  Thought it was quite a joke.”

Grace
recalled something about that from the diary.  “The dumb looking guy at my
witch trial?  Anabel’s brother.”

“That
would be him.”

“But,
he’s all set to be Governor of Virginia, now.”

“Oh
bloody hell!  Gregory as governor?!  I’d sooner campaign for Cornwallis.”

Grace
disregarded his elaborate shudder.  “Besides, that would mean Gregory had
killed his sister in the original timeline.”  She frowned.  It was always hard
for her to imagine someone killing their own family.  As much as the Riveras
annoyed her, she loved them all.  “How likely is Gregory to hurt Anabel?  Are
they close?”

“Anabel
never refers to him, a’tall, without adding ‘my idiot brother’ in front of his
name, so I’d say not.”  Jamie said dryly.  “But, the man’s not smart enough to
be a killer.  He once lost a checkers game to a sleeping pig.”

“You
don’t have to be a genius to wield a knife.”

Jamie
made a considering face.  “True enough, I suppose.”

“And
it would explain why Anabel went into the hedge maze with someone, when you
told me she was worried about her reputation.  What other man would she trust
in the darkness?”

He
paused, thinking it over for a long moment.  “Gregory’s a liar and a braggart,
so I’d put nothing past him.  Alright,” he nodded like it was all settled, “let’s
shoot Gregory
and
Ned and be off to Jamaica, then.”

“I
have a better idea.”  Grace gave her magnifying glass a Wyatt Earp-y twirl and
dropped it into her pocket.  “Let’s go get his fingerprints and fix the future,
once and for all.”

June
28, 1789-  I find that I quite enjoy being watched in the throes of passion. 
It’s why I don’t cover up that peephole.  There is a voyeuristic pleasure in
having another know you’re being well-pleased by a man.

From
the Journal of Miss Lucinda Wentworth

“The
fireworks go off in an hour.”  Grace looked around the town square, frowning at
the crowd of people who’d already gathered.  “We know that Clara vanishes sometime
around then.  We have to find Gregory Maxwell quickly and get his thumbprint
for comparison.”  Unfortunately, she didn’t see him anywhere.

“Never
thought I’d ever be
trying
to find Gregory Maxwell.”  Jamie mused with
the lazy unconcern of a man who didn’t know he was scheduled to hang in few
hours.

Grace
still didn’t see the point in telling Jamie that this was the day he died, but
she couldn’t get it out of her head.  Sometime before midnight, Jamie would be
lynched, unless she could figure out a way to save him.  She took a deep breath
and glanced up at his stunning profile.  “Maybe we should split up, so we can
find him faster.”

“Not
bloody likely.”  He shook his head with a dismissive scoff.  The setting sun
reflected off his hair, turning it an even more amazing shade of auburn-gold. “If
you’re right and a murderer is about to strike, you’re staying right where I
can see you.”

“This
is
important
, Jamie.  You have no idea what’s at stake.”

“Nothing
is more important than your life.”  He retorted stubbornly.  “Gregory isn’t
here, yet.  When he
is
here, I’ll hold him down and you can cut off his whole
hand if you like.  Satisfied?”

She
debated arguing with him, but Jamie didn’t look like he was going to budge and
she didn’t have time to make him.  “Fine.  Let’s find someplace out of sight to
keep watch until then.  I don’t love the idea of being tried as a witch again
today.”

They
headed up a small hill, towards a secluded area at the edge of the park.  The town
munitions were stored there, in an octagonal stone building that was “guarded”
by men who’d snuck off to the celebration.  If they somehow survived into the
twenty-first century, the guys would make wonderful additions to the
Harrisonburg Historical Museum’s crack security team.

“Of
course, if he doesn’t show up, Plan B is just to kidnap Clara ourselves.”  Grace
mused.  “She can’t be murdered by a serial killer, if we have her tied up on
your ship all night.  We’ll just grab her and get the hell out of town.”

He
chortled, delighted with both the idea and the swearing.  “You’ve got a
pirate’s soul, Grace Rivera.”  He slung an arm around her shoulders.  “T’is one
of the many reasons I love you.”

It
was the first time
this
version of Jamie had said those words and Grace
beamed up at him.  “I love you, too.”

“I
know.”  He winked at her.

She
snorted at his Han Solo-y confidence.  “You know, huh?”

“Aye. 
There’s no other explanation for why a lovely woman like you would want a
jackass like me.”

“Well,
I’m not exactly normal.”

His
mouth curved in amusement, love shining from his eyes.  “All versions of me are
yours, Grace Rivera.  Now and forever.”

“I
know.”  She leaned up to kiss his jawline.  “You’re my whole future, Jamie. 
And I’m going to save you tonight.  So, I’m serious about kidnapping Clara.  Plan
B won’t catch the killer, but we’d at least save her life.”  (And Jamie’s.)  “If
something goes wrong, she has to be our first priority.”

“
You
are my first priority.  Always.”  He frowned a bit.  “Wait, how are you
saving me tonight?  I accept that you’re my savior.  I’ve always felt that. 
But what is going to happen that…?”

Grace
winced and cut him off.  “Just make sure Clara doesn’t die.  Trust me.  It
would be bad for us.”

The
armory was partially surrounded by a brick wall for security.  Embrasures in
the masonry had been built so guns could be fired from the square openings, but
they also provided a clear vantage point of most of the park below.

“Okay.”
 Grace nodded, pleased with their hiding spot.  “Now if we can just continue to
avoid the guards who are supposed to be watching the munitions, we can…”

“Son
of a
bitch!
”  Jamie suddenly clutched his head, dropping to one knee
like he was in agonizing pain.

The
air froze in Grace’s lungs.  “Jamie?”  She reached out to touch his shoulder,
terrified that he was having some of seizure.  “Jamie, are you alright?”  He
didn’t look alright.  Oh God.  What could eighteenth-century medicine do to
help him if he was really sick?  It was all leeches and gangrene.  They’d need
magic.  She’d go get him magic.  “What’s wrong?  Do you want me to…?

Her
words ended in a squeak as his palm shot out and caught hold of her wrist.  One
second her fingers were resting on his sleeve, the next her hand was captured
in his.  Startled, Grace instinctively tried to pull free, but Jamie wasn’t
letting go.  He held onto her like the world had just tilted on its axis and
she was the only thing keeping him steady.

“Fucking
hell.”  His free hand came up to cover his eyes as if he was trying to unsee
something horrible.  “They hanged me from that fucking tree.  They fucking
hanged
me.  That’s why you’re here.”

He
remembered.

Grace’s
heart slammed into overdrive.  The memory potion had finally worked.  This
Jamie had caught up with his ghost-self, two hundred years of experiences
dumping into his head like a tidal wave.  Jesus, no wonder he was freaking
out.  It must have been like someone setting his brain of fire.  She couldn’t
even imagine how confusing it would be to have another whole existence
downloaded into your skull.

“I
know.”  She said softly.  “But it’s okay.  You’re safe, now.  I’m here.  No one
will hurt you this time.”

Her
voice seemed to cut through his overwhelmed haze.  His hand dropped from his
face and he blinked.  “Grace.”  It was an awed breath.  “
Grace
.”  Blue
eyes slashed up to meet hers, wild and hungry, and Grace’s throat went dry.  Both
Jamies were the same person, with all the same memories.  …Which meant this man
knew what she looked like totally naked.

And
now he could touch her.

She
gave her wrist another experimental tug and was perversely turned on when he
still didn’t release her.  Clearly, she had been spending waaaay too much time
around a certain pirate, because there was something undeniably erotic about
being captured.  Still, it would be best for
him
if he took a moment and
processed all this.

“Jamie,
let’s just stop, so you can get your bearings.”  She tried breathlessly.  “This
has all got to be messing with your head.”

His
response to that was to rise to his feet and pull her closer.  With her body
flattened up against his, she could hear the frantic pounding of his heart and
feel the hard length of his growing arousal.  He made a sound like a caged
animal suddenly let loose on a meal.

“Oh
God.”  Her insides turned to liquid, already wanting more.

Jamie’s
free hand came up to tangle in her hair.  “Can’t wait.”  He got out.  “Please,
Grace.  Can’t wait.”  His mouth sealed over hers, kissing her like it was a religious
experience.  Like he was starving for her.  “Love you so much.”  Somehow, he
managed to pin her arm behind her, ensuring that she was at his mercy while his
lips plundered hers.

He
needn’t have bothered holding her still.  She wasn’t exactly trying to escape.

Grace
let out a whimper as he backed her up against the brick wall.  Other people
could come to the armory.  She knew that.  She also knew that Jamie was about
to explode.  Nearly two and a half centuries of not being able to touch
anything had just come to a head.  Grace had never expected anyone to ever need
her as much as he did, right then.

“Grace. 
Grace.”  He was chanting her name, his body rubbing against her.  “I can’t…  I
need…  Oh
fuck
.”  He couldn’t seem to get the words out, his control
gone.

Grace
knew what he needed to hear.  She pulled back to meet his glazed eyes.  “Take
what you want.”  She touched his face with her free hand, trying to calm him. 
“I’m yours, Jamie.  You know that.  Take whatever you need.”

He
let out a shuddering breath, already lifting her skirts up.  “Need you.  Just
you.”

His
fingers grasped the edge of her anachronistic panties, ripping them off of her
in his haste.  Holy
shit
.  Grace’s body clenched as he tossed the
practical cotton underwear aside and exposed her core.  She hadn’t expected to
be so turned on by the lack of finesse.  She’d intended to give Jamie some
relief and worry about finding her own pleasure later.

But
his primitive desire to claim her was amping up her own desire.  Jamie wasn’t
trying to seduce her.  Like a stallion let loose on mare, his only goal was to
be inside of her. 
Now
.  This was going to be rough and untamed and world
changing.  She could already tell and it was really,
really
hot.

He
gave a primal snarl of lust, scenting her desire.  “
Fuck
.  I need you so
much.”

She
could hear other voices on the hill below, getting closer, but there was no way
Jamie was going stop.  She didn’t even want him to.  He lifted her up,
supporting her weight, and tugged her neckline down to expose her breasts.  Greedy
lips latched on, biting down on the soft globe like he wanted to mark her. 
Grace’s head went back with a gasp, as she wrapped her legs around his waist
and tried to hold on.  He jerked her body forward, so she was completely open
to him.  It was like being caught in a maelstrom of male passion.

“Now,
Grace.”  He wanted her so badly his hand shook as he opened his breeches. 
“Please.”  Throbbing flesh brushed against her, but he didn’t go any farther.  She
realized he was worried.  He wanted to make sure she was really going to allow
this.  He braced a palm beside her head, his desperate eyes meeting hers. 
“Please, my love.”

She
smiled and leaned in closer to his ear.  “Make me come, Jamie. You’re the only
one who can.”

He
gave a hoarse groan and surged inside of her so hard that Grace saw stars. 
There was no halfway with a pirate.  He took every inch she had and a few more
she hadn’t even known existed.  Stretched and full and at his mercy…  That was
all it took to send her over the edge.  God, she really was a pizza-tramp with
this guy.  Nobody else could bring to her orgasm, at all.  Jamie could do it
within a matter of seconds.  He was
sooooo
her Partner.

Grace’s
cry of passion was quickly silenced by Jamie’s palm.  He let go of her wrist so
he could seal a hand over her mouth.  Jamie didn’t slow his thrusts, but he did
make sure she couldn’t scream out her pleasure.  Her body rippled around him,
trying to milk his seed, but the iron length of him stayed firm.

God,
she wanted him to come inside of her.  She needed it.  Even in the midst of one
climax another one began to build.

Jamie
felt her muscles tighten on him and he growled in satisfaction.  “Mine.”  His
mouth went back to her breast, lapping at the taunt nipple.  “Finally.”

As
usual, the possessive words were like dumping kerosene on a fire.  Grace tilted
her head to dislodge his palm and slipped his finger between her lips instead. 
Jamie let out a hiss of pleasure as she sucked in time with his thrusts, her
tongue tracing over the pad of flesh.  She wanted more of him inside of her. 
She wanted everything.

Jamie’s
eyes gleamed.  “I am so in love with you, woman.”

Laughter
sounded from somewhere nearby.

Grace
could see figures moving through the opening in the brick wall.  People were
only a few hundred feet away now.  In another moment, they could stumble upon
them.  Shit.  She automatically tried to squiggle free of the embrace, but
Jamie wasn’t having it.

“No.” 
He said softly, holding her still.  “I’m not finished with you, yet.  I’ll be
making you come again, before you’re going
anywhere
.”

God,
she loved it when he got commanding in bed.

Grace
tried to think, but it was impossible with him filling her again and again.  Jamie
slipped his finger deeper into her mouth, demanding that she resume suckling
and she helplessly complied.

He
made a low sound of approval, liking her acquiesce.  “That’s my good lass.”  He
tunneled even deeper and Grace’s body clenched.  “So hot and wet and tight. 
Fuck, you’re so
tight
.”  He sounded strained, his free hand moving to
squeeze her breast.

Her
body arched and she made a choked sound of submission, wanting more.  For a
woman who’d spent her most of her life thinking she was semi-frigid, it was all
pretty scandalous.  …And pretty frigging awesome.

This
was why all the nice girls of the world secretly wanted to be ravished by a
pirate.