As soon as the trailer door clicked shut behind the foreman, I turned back to the wraith, who looked more solid than ever.
Evan-the-psychopomp had said wraiths were transparent and kind offluttery, as if governed by an unknown set of physical laws. Wraiths belonged to the afterlife, and apparently the afterlife was perpetually windy. A mystical version of Chicago.
But this wraith looked completely solid now, and not the least bit fluttery. In fact, he lookedheavy. His feet were buried in the snow, just like mine were, though his hadn’t left any tell-tale tracks.
He couldn’t possibly be as solid and as lucid as he seemed. But if hewere, if his responses were focused and coherent, he might be even more valuable as a witness than the foreman.
Fascinated by this new opportunity, I smiled my best I-mean-you-no-harm smile, which, unfortunately, wasn’t one of my most believable expressions. “Sir, do you know where you are?”
His eyes shined with amusement. “Oak Island, same as you.”
A tingle of excitement danced up my spine. He was coherent. Or at least articulate.
“Can you tell me your name?” I asked, my fingers mentally crossed for a second intelligible response.
The wraith nodded. “Can you tell me yours?”
I laughed out loud, despite the miserable cold and the chill bumps standing all over my body. “I’m Alexandra Walker.”
“John Allen.” The spirit ran his thumbs beneath the front bib of his coveralls, as if he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands. In life, he’d probably have wanted to shake one of mine, but for wraiths, physical contact with the living world was always a gamble. Some could do it; some couldn’t. I was guessing Mr. Allen had already discovered that he couldn’t and that he wasn’t very happy with his limitations. “And just whatareyou, Miss Walker?” he asked, one brow arching at me. “How is it that you can see me, yet have no fear?”
I had absolutely no idea why I could see him. None. But that wasn’t exactly what he’d asked.
What are you?I got that question fairly often from Netherworlders, and I’d discovered long ago that the best answer was no answer. “I’m…I’m here on business. I’ve been hired to find the box pulled from this pit two days ago.”
He nodded. “They all come for the box, though most people don’t even know what they’re digging for.”
That was certainly easy to believe. “Do you know how you came to be here, Mr. Allen?” I asked, searching my jacket pockets for a tissue. I couldnotmake my nose stop running.
He cocked one amazingly detailed eyebrow at me. “On Oak Island specifically, or on the wrong side of the spectral plane?”
I smiled at his phrasing. He must have been quite entertaining in life. “The latter.”
“That son of a bitch Avery Thomas pushed me into the pit, and I’ve been stuck here ever since.”
Of coursehe was murdered. “People who die peacefully in their sleep don’t spend the next hundred years haunting a damp hole in the ground.” I didn’t realize I’d spoken aloud until Allen laughed, the lines in his face shifting with each movement. His image was startlingly lifelike, and I was tempted again to touch him to see if he had substance too. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t possibly, so I kept my hands to myself.
“When did this Avery push you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“1904. Fall, it was. Beautiful, clear day. Better suited to a picnic than a broken neck.”
I knew exactly how he felt.
I whistled, impressed. I’d never heard of a wraith that old. The oldest Evan had ever mentioned was about fifty years dead. “You must have seen a lot of amazing things in a span like that,” I said, thinking of all the changes I’d personally witnessed.
Behind me, hinges squealed. Footsteps thumped on wooden steps.
“Your friend’s coming,” the wraith said, staring over my shoulder.
I started to nod, but I stopped when I realized Bowman would wonder what the hell I was doing, nodding to myself alone in the snow. He probably already thought I was insane. “I know,” I whispered to Allen. “I have some questions for him, but I have a few more for you too, if you don’t mind hanging around a little longer.”
He shrugged. “I have nothing else scheduled for the next…oh, eternity. I’d dearly love some of that coffee though. Can’t believe how much I miss my coffee.”
Yeah, me too. I’d had a cup on the plane three hours ago and desperately needed another. “I can’t help you with that,” I whispered as the footsteps stamped closer, crunching through snow now. “But I can go one better. I think I know someone who can get you out of here, if you’re interested.”
Allen’s eyes widened. “Out? Out of the pit?”
I nodded, Bowman forgotten for the moment. “Out of the pit, off the island, and on to whatever’s next for you. If you want to go.”
