“A ghost is telling me to go study the occult,” Liam said dryly.
“Has Jaden found a description of the reliquary yet?” David asked.
Liam shook his head. “I have to give Jaden time.” He stood himself. “She just took the reliquary last night. I’m going to head out to do some research into the occult—as our friendly neighborhood ghost suggests.”
Bartholomew rolled his eyes. “And I try to help you people.”
“Deeply appreciated,” Liam said. “I’ll see you at the funeral home this evening.”
They both nodded, and Liam left them. Bartholomew followed behind him.
Kelsey enjoyed the walk back to her house. It was about a mile through the heart of Old Town, and she gazed into windows as she walked along, noting new businesses that had sprung up and those that had been there as long as she could remember.
She walked by the beautiful Episcopal church that had burned and been rebuilt, added to, changed through its many decades. She smiled, thinking about the ghost story that involved the sea captain who was still buried in back—and who didn’t enjoy backpackers sneaking in to sleep on his tomb.
She passed the funeral home, and felt a little shiver of sadness sweep through her—Cutter’s body would be there by now.
Eventually she reached Front Street, passed by the Pirate Soul Museum and walked down around the wharf.
Jonas’s house was clean and whitewashed, welcoming as a bed-and-breakfast inn now. She saw couples out on the side patio enjoying afternoon drinks from the little tiki bar.
Finally she started out at the stretch to the Merlin house. She wondered how long she would think of it in that fashion. It was actually her house now.
She smiled.
It would always remain the Merlin house.
She walked up to the porch. At first, she smelled nothing but the sea breeze. She slipped her key into the lock and hesitated.
An odd moment of fear swept over her. And once again, she thought that she smelled death.
She gave herself a shake. She was letting Liam’s fears get to her. She had grown up in this house. She had loved its oddities and curiosities.
She walked in determinedly and closed and locked the door. She leaned against it and inhaled deeply. It was gone. She wasn’t smelling death. She inhaled pine cleaners and every other substance they had used for their scrub down of the house.
She started into the kitchen, but again felt a creeping sensation along her spine.
Something had moved.
Someone had been in the house.
Someone was in the house, watching her.
She looked around. Nothing was out of place. They had carefully locked up when they had left. She walked through the house and assured herself that the back door was still locked, that the windows were closed and the locks were secured on the windows, as well.
That took some time.
But it was good to feel that the house was entirely safe and all bolted down.
She started up the stairs, then paused again, thinking that she had heard a sound from Cutter’s office.
She walked back down the stairs and into his office. She turned on the light and looked around. No one was there.
She walked to his desk and saw that a little figurine had fallen to the floor. Laughing at herself, she picked it up and put it on his desk.
The house was safe and sound.
She hurried up the stairs, wanting to shower, wash her hair and dress for the evening.
When she reached her own door, she was surprised to note that she still had goose bumps on the flesh of her arms.
Giving herself a mental shake, she stepped into her room.
Wondering what she was locking herself in against, she firmly slid the bolt on her bedroom door.
She felt safe. Alone.
None of it made any sense.
And yet, when she walked into her bath and turned on the shower spray, she knew that she still trying to wash away a certain scent.
That awful scent of death.
7
As they headed for the library, Bartholomew said to Liam, “It’s all quite strange. I mean, Key West is famous for the unusual person here and there, for some great ghost stories and history. Anything that hints of devil worship and the like, though—that’s unusual. But then again, I think it might all have had to do with the fact that Key West went into the spiritualism craze along with the rest of the world when the Fox sisters started their whole craze.”
“The Fox sisters?” Liam asked. He frowned. He seemed to remember something about a movie that had featured the Fox sisters. They had begun an entire movement into spiritualism—but then they’d been proven to be faking their “manifestations.”
“I wasn’t alive when it all came about, so once again, I say you might want to do some research,” Bartholomew advised.
“But you were here. You were just dead.”