“Then take it. I’d be willing to pay you to get rid of it.”
“Not necessary,” Erik assured him. “That’s part of what we do. But when you go home, open the windows, burn a candle, and say a blessing or a prayer of protection. If there’s any bad mojo left behind, that will help get rid of it. And if it doesn’t, my friend Haley can help. Susan can give you her contact information.”
“Thank you,” Thompson replied, and Erik wondered if the man had slept since he acquired the ring.
“Glad we could be of help.” Erik walked him back to Susan, and wasn’t surprised when she gave the man one of Haley’s business cards from a new stack by the register.
“I figured the cards would come in handy,” she said when Thompson left.
“Good thinking. I suspect we’ll be doing a lot of business with Haley.” Erik went back to the break room to retrieve the bag and stashed it in the safe before removing the gloves and putting his other supplies away.
“Looks like we’re in for a big storm.” Monty Clark, keeper of the Cape May lighthouse, settled his six-foot-four-inch frame on the picnic table bench near the base of the tower. “Thanks for stopping in before the weather gets crazy.” He ran a hand through his black hair to tame it from the wind.
“Figured you could use the caffeine.” Erik nodded toward the carrier of large coffee cups in the middle of the table. He and his partner Ben Nolan had picked up coffee and freshly baked cookies on their way to the visit.
“Definitely.” Monty reached for the cup and let out a hum of satisfaction at the first swallow. Then he glanced at the seat beside him. “Get your mind out of the gutter,” he said to his ghostly partner, Jon.
Erik chuckled. He and Ben could sometimes see and occasionally hear ghosts if they were strong enough to manifest, and Jon usually made himself visible for at least part of the time when they visited.
The wind gusted, and Erik tucked a strand of blond hair out of his blue eyes.
“You need a haircut,” Ben joked. His dark hair was cut in a fade, too short to be bothered much by the stiff breeze.
“You like my hair,” Erik retorted with a knowing look, thinking of the way Ben had tugged on it the night before in bed.
Ben returned a naughty smile. “Sure do.”
Erik grew serious and looked to Monty. “Do you have everything you need to ride out the weather?”
Monty nodded. “Yes, thanks for asking. I always have some food and drinks stockpiled and a generator, if things get really bad. They’re not calling for a full hurricane, so I’m hoping wedon’t get anything too dramatic. Jon’s good company.” Monty nodded at a spot next to him, and Jon faded in and out.
Jon Richards was a stuntman who died seventy years ago and chose never to move on to whatever came next. Jon and Monty had become friends and then partners. Erik didn’t completely understand how their relationship worked, but he figured all that mattered was that they were happy together.
“Jon says it’s not just the storm. The ghosts are restless,” Monty told them.
“Because of the weather or something else?” Erik asked.
“Like we talked about before, Jon acknowledges that something’s up,” Monty replied. “But he doesn’t know what, just that it’s not good. He says he’s seen a woman in white a couple of times.”
“Bad omen,” Erik said. “But about what?”
“Is there a significant anniversary of some disaster coming up?” Ben pulled out his phone and did a quick search. Cape May’s storied history made for a long list of results.
Monty cocked his head as he listened to the reply. “TheSS Mohawkwent down in a bad storm. Might be from that,”Monty repeated what Jon told him. Over the decades since his death, Jon had befriended other ghosts who still retained a sense of self. Some he helped to pass on, while he kept track of others who wanted to remain. More than once, Jon had used the strength he had gradually gained as a spirit to save people from drowning or sinking boats.
“I read about that,” Erik chimed in. “Back in the 1920s. Passenger liner—something in the hold caught fire. But the article I read said that while the boat was a loss, no one died.”
“She was a stowaway.” Monty looked surprised as he relayed Jon’s comment.
“Do you know her name?” Monty asked.
“Lila. That’s all she remembers,” Monty repeated Jon’s answer.
“I thought a woman in white was an omen but not necessarily the ghost of a real person,” Ben said.
“There are hundreds of stories, and they don’t all match.” Erik shrugged. “That’s the tough part about the lore. Look into theMohawk’shistory. If it’s showing up now, maybe there’s a story we’ve missed.”
“I don’t remember that particular ship causing trouble,” Monty said. “I’ve heard divers say it’s a dangerous wreck because of the current. It’s been a hundred years, so maybe the anniversary is giving Lila a boost.” He paused. “I’ve tried to make contact with Lila’s ghost and see if I could send her on, but there’s something blocking me. Makes me wonder if there was some sort of magic involved.”
