Page 4 of Mack's Horribly Hellacious Ghost Town
Mack stepped inside, held up his phone, and gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
“And it looks like Mack’s mentor, Beau, is stepping out of retirement to help.” I got another thumbs-up, so good guess on my part.
“Wonderful. A whole group of experts. You’ll need it for a town of that size.”
“Trust me, I know.”
“Is this just ghosts causing destruction or do you have other sinister beings?”
“Another thing we’re not sure of. We only know people are getting hurt, kids are in harm’s way, and there’s been lots of petty destruction ramping up on the daily.”
“Brandon, I don’t mean to tell you your business, but maybe take the gunsandthe swords.”
My mother spoke words of wisdom. I absolutely should.
2
Before I’d packed, I had looked up the town and the current weather. Like most of Arizona, it was a dry heat, being full-on desert. I packed accordingly—lightweight clothes, shorts, et cetera. I also included a few pairs of jeans and a single FBI windbreaker, just in case, because desert nights could get cold. The lowest temperature forecast for the next two weeks was sixty-five degrees, after all. I’d never spent time in the desert, so I had to wonder what no humidity felt like. Guess I was about to see.
It wasn’t until I was on the plane and had the file in front of me that the full understanding of my new case dawned.
In a word: Fucked.
I whimpered and sank against Brandon’s shoulder. We were once again flying first class due to Brandon’s long legs, so I had the ability to drape myself over his torso like a wilting damsel in distress.
He paused in his own reading to look at me in concern, those big amber eyes soft with worry. “What’s wrong?”
“I feel like I was just John Wicked by a tire iron.”
“Uh, why?”
I pointed to the map. “Mon cher, have you not looked at the map yet?”
“I haven’t, and seeing your reaction, I don’t want to anymore.”
“I wish I shared your ignorance.”
He looked at the map, specifically where I pointed. “What am I looking at?”
Sighing, I walked him through it. “So our destination is Black Rock, right?”
“Right. East of Phoenix, near the national forests. And?”
“See the thin blue line there?”
His eyes narrowed as he focused, then widened in realization. “Fuck me sideways, please tell me that river doesn’t run straight through town.”
“Mon cher, I wish I could.”
We shared a grim look. Running water was a veryenergizingthing for ghosts. No one quite knew why, but it gave ghosts and spectral energy more of a boost, making them stronger. Having a river running right through a haunted town? Not ideal.
“The river alone could explain why the ghosts are so active and strong in this area,” I commented, my finger moving just a little farther north on the map, “but look what this says.”
“Limestone Gulch,” Brandon read, cavernous voice deepening into an almost monotone, and his eyes closed in a fatalistic manner. “Fuuuuuuuck.”
“We,” I summarized succinctly, “are doubly screwed.”
“This makes so much sense, but at the same time, I’m so mad.”
