All Hallows Eve Read online

Sam and the boo-hag went down.

  “Kill the damned girl,” Jeannette roared.

  Naomi recovered her wits and kicked the stool.

  Jenna lunged forward to save her cousin. Arms around the girl, she supported her weight so the rope could not tighten around her neck. Naomi’s body began to jerk from side to side, as if being pushed hard. Gloria Day and John Bradbury were trying to have an affect on her, but it was another ghost who managed to stop her. He was in Puritan garb as well, a big man, heavy-muscled, broad-shouldered. He appeared before Naomi, who gasped and backed away.

  Rocky burst through the basement door and helped Jenna get the noose down and off from Elyssa’s neck. Sam wrenched Naomi Hardy aside. Devin Lyle appeared and cuffed Naomi, telling her that she was under arrest.

  Sirens screamed from outside.

  Help was coming.

  The reign of terror was over.

  * * * *

  “Naomi Hardy thought that she had a brilliant way to become the head of the company? Get rid of John Bradbury? In the midst of the highest paying time of the year? Really? She did this for a job?” Devin Lyle asked.

  “It was a pretty damned good job, from what I understand,” Sam told her. “And trust me, I didn’t get it until the end. I knew that both Detective Martin and Micah Aldridge had ordered that cologne—Scent of the Pine—Tandy Whitehall sold. And since both of our victims had smelled it, the scent seemed involved. But, as we would have learned had we had time to ask Micah about it, he bought it for Jeannette Mackey, who loved the scent.”

  They were all at Devin’s place, a charming cottage on the outskirts of town. Devin had inherited the house from her Aunt Mina, who remained after death, still watching over Devin when she was in Salem. Mina was with them now, shaking her head over the terrible things an emotion like greed could cause a person to do. She’d done her best to make the ghosts of John Bradbury and Gloria Day comfortable in her house.

  “How did she get Jeannette involved?” Rocky asked.

  “Jeannette saw herself as a seer, a medium, the rightful agent at the gate. Their agreement was that once Naomi became boss, she’d find another place for the haunted house company to operate. They were so obsessed with what they wanted to do that they were willing to kill,” Jenna said.

  “And,” Sam explained, “Jeannette knew all of the legends about the new local cultures and communities beyond the Wiccans. She also hated both Tandy Whitehall and Gloria Day. What better way to get back at the two women than kill the one and get the other arrested for her murder.”

  “They planned on killing more people,” Elyssa said.

  Her parents, overcome with gratitude for Jenna and Sam and the Krewe members, had allowed her to come along with the adults.

  “Who was next?” Rocky asked.

  “Somebody named Sissy,” Elyssa told them. “In case they didn’t blame the Wiccans, they’d start looking at the Gullah people. They never intended for any of us to survive the night.”

  “I’m pretty sure they thought they’d killed both Gary Martin and Micah Aldridge,” Sam said.

  Martin had been discovered in the basement, a bad gash to his head. But both men were going to be all right.

  “Here’s what I understand,” Sam said. “They had to kill John and make it look like a suicide. They figured that it might not work, so they planned an elaborate scheme to kill more people and make it look like an inter-Salem cultural war of some kind.”

  The ghostly presence of Gloria Day said, “So I died because of you, John?”

  “It seems so. I’m sorry.”

  “You didn’t die because of John,” Auntie Mina pointed out. “You died because of two greedy, sick, demented women.”

  “Who really thought they could kill me, Sam, and Elyssa, and get away with it,” Jenna said. She looked at Sam and smiled. “Thank goodness they underestimated you.”

  “They underestimated the Krewe,” Sam said.

  “I don’t think Jeannette cared if she died,” Elyssa said. “As long as she took us with her. But, you’re right. Thank goodness for the Krewe. I think I’d like to be part of this one day.” Elyssa leapt to her feet. “Gotta go.”

  “Where?” Jenna asked her.

  “Party. It’s Halloween. And I’m rather an important person right now. My guy is here for me. Don’t worry, my parents love Nate.”

  She kissed and hugged them all, thanking everyone profusely, and then she was gone.

  “What about us, John?” Gloria asked him. “Shouldn’t we be going somewhere by now? Into the light or whatever.”

  John looked at her. “I’m thinking about sticking around for a bit.”

  “How lovely,” Aunt Mina said.

  Gloria reached for John’s hand. “If we’re going to stick around together, we’re going to play give and take. Come on. It’s Samhain.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Gallows Hill, of course.”

  John Bradbury groaned, then shrugged and took Gloria’s hand. “Why not.”

  They said their good-byes and disappeared.

  “I’m curious about one thing still,” Jenna said. “There was a third ghost there last night. A powerful ghost. He was in Puritan apparel, big guy, like a hearty farmer type. Then he was gone. Who was he? There’s not another victim somewhere, is there?”

  Rocky shook his head. “The two women spilled everything at the station. No more victims.”

  “Big dude, powerful, looked like a farmer?” Mina said. “Might have been John Proctor, sick to death of watching more horror over petty jealousy and greed. Those bitter human emotions might have caused the hysteria once, but he wouldn’t want to see it happening again. Could have also been George Burroughs. He was a big dude, too.”

  “I wish we could thank him,” Jenna said.

  “I’m sure he feels thanked,” Mina said.

  “Are we going out for Halloween?” Sam asked.

  Jenna jumped up laughing and grabbed his hand. “No. We’re staying in. Rocky, Devin, Mina, thank you for your hospitality. We’re going back to Sam’s house. Uncle Jamie is busy dishing out Halloween treats. We’re going to be alone for a while.”

  Sam jumped up, ready to comply, but noted, “We’ll all head back to Krewe headquarters in the morning.”

  And he told them all goodnight. Outside, the moon had risen over a beautiful, brisk, October night.

  Jenna rose on her toes and kissed his lips.

  “Trick or treat?” he asked.

  “I intend to see that on this Halloween, every move we make is going to be one hell of a treat.” She drew a finger down his chest. “Here, there, and everywhere.”

  He kissed her.

  “I shall strive to make this a happy, happy Halloween too.”

  They drove to his house, and then they were alone.

  There were all manner of treats…

  And it was a very happy Halloween indeed.

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  Devin Lyle and Craig Rockwell are back, this time to a haunted castle in Ireland where a banshee may have gone wild—or maybe there’s a much more rational explanation—one that involves a disgruntled heir, murder, and mayhem, all with that sexy light touch Heather Graham has turned into her trademark style.

  * * * *

  Chapter One

  “Ah, you can hear it in the wind, you can, the mournful cry of the banshee!” Gary Duffy—known as Gary the Ghost—exclaimed with wide eyes, his tone low, husky and haunting along with the sound of the crackling fire. “It’s a cry so mournful and so deep, you can feel it down into your bones. Indeed. Some say she’s the spirit of a woman long gone who’s lost everyone dear in her life; some say she is one of the fairy folk. Some believe she is a death ghost, and come not to do ill, but to ease the way of the dying, those leaving this world to enter the next. However she is known, her cry is a warning that ‘tis time for a man to put his affairs in order, and kiss his loved ones good-bye, before taking that final journey that is the fate of all men. And women,” he added, looking around at his audience. “Ah, and believe me! At Castle Karney, she’s moaned and cried many a time, many a time!”

  Yes! Just recently, Devin Lyle thought.

  Very recently.

  Gary spoke well; he was an excellent storyteller, more of a performer than a guide. He had a light and beautiful brogue that seemed to enhance his words as well and an ability to speak with a deep tone that carried, yet still seemed to be something of a whisper.

  All in the tour group were enthralled as they watched him—even the youngest children in the group were silent.

  But then, beyond Gary’s talents, the night—offering a nearly full moon and a strange, shimmering silver fog—lent itself to storytelling and ghostly yarns. As did the lovely and haunting location where Gary spun his tales.

  The group sat around a campfire that burned in an ancient pit outside the great walls of Castle Karney, halfway between those walls and St. Patrick’s of the Village—the equally ancient church of Karney, said to have been built soon after the death of Ireland’s patron saint. A massive graveyard surrounded the church; the Celtic crosses, angels, cherubs, and more, seemed to glow softly in a surreal shade of pearl beneath the moon. That great orb itself was stunning, granting light and yet shrouded in the mist that shimmered over the graveyard, the castle walls, and down to embrace the fire itself—and Gary the Ghost—in surreal and hypnotic beauty.

  Gary’s tour was thorough.

  They’d already visited the castle courtyard, the cliffs, the church, and the graveyard, learning history and legends along the way.

  The fire pit they now gathered around had been used often in the centuries that came before—many an attacking lord or general had based his army here, just outside the walls. They had cooked here, burned tar here for assaults, and stood in the light and warmth of the blaze to stare at the castle walls and dream of breeching them.

  The walls were over ten feet thick. An intrepid Karney—alive at the time of William the Conqueror—had seen to it that the family holding was shored up with brick and stone.

  “The night is still now,” Gary said, his voice low and rich. “But listen if you will when the wind races across the Irish Sea. And you’ll hear the echo of her wail, on special nights, aye, the heart-wrenching cry of the banshee!”

  Gary—Devin knew from her cousin, Kelly—was now the full-time historian, curator, and tour director at Castle Karney. She’d learned a lot from him, but, naturally, she’d known a lot already from family lore. Kelly Karney was her cousin and Devin had been to Castle Karney once before.

  The Karney family had held title to the property since the time of St. Patrick. Despite bloodshed and wars, and multiple invasions first by Vikings and then British monarchs, they’d held tenaciously to the property. So tenaciously that fifteen years ago—to afford the massive property along with repairs and taxes—they had turned it into a fashionable bed and breakfast, touted far and wide on tourist sites as a true experience as well as a vacation.

  Gary, with his wonderful ability to weave a tale, was part of the allure—as if staying in a castle with foundations and a great hall begun in the early part of the fifth century was not enough!

  But Gary had gained fame in international guidebooks. While the Karney family had employed him first for the guests of the B&B, they’d always opened the tours to visitors who came to the village and stayed anywhere there—or just stopped by for the tour.

  “Indeed! Here, where the great cliffs protected
the lords of Karney from any assault by the Irish Sea, where the great walls stood tall against the slings, rams, arrows, and even canon of the enemy, the banshees wail is known to be heard. Throughout the years, ‘twas heard each night before the death of the master of the house. Sometimes, they say, she cried to help an elderly lord make his way to the great castle in the sky. Yet she may cry for all, and has cast her mournful wail into the air for many a Karney, master or no. Saddest still, was the wailing of the banshee the night before the English knight, Sir Barry Martin, burst in to kidnap the Lady Brianna. He made his way through their primitive sewer lines of the day, thinking the castle would fall if he but held her, for she was a rare beauty and beloved of Declan, master of Karney Castle. Sir Martin made his way to the master’s chambers, where he took the lady of the house, but Declan came upon him. Holding the Lady Brianna before Declan, Sir Martin slew her with his knife. In turn, Lord Declan rushed Sir Martin, and died himself upon the same knife—but not until he’d skewered Sir Martin through with his sword! It was a sad travesty of love and desire, for it was said Sir Martin coveted the Lady Brianna for himself, even as he swore to his men it was a way to breech the castle walls. While that left just a wee babe as heir, the castle stood, for Declan’s mighty steward saw to it that the men fought on, rallying in their master’s name. Aye, and when you hear the wind blow in now—like the high, crying wail of the banshee—they say you can see Brianna and her beloved. Karney’s most famous ghosts are said to haunt the main tower. Through the years, they’ve been seen, Brianna and her Declan—separately, so they say, ever trying to reach one another and still stopped by the evil spirit of Sir Barry Martin!”