Ghost Walk. Heather Graham

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СКАЧАТЬ okay. But something held him silent, eyes closed, pretending he was sleeping. They were whispering again.

      He was a strong child. He would be fine.

      But he was an only child. He would be so alone.

      No. It would be all right. He would have the rest of his family. And he was one of a great Brotherhood. He would be all right.

      He definitely didn’t want anyone to know that he was awake, listening, and that in their words he had already grasped the sense of tragedy that was tearing them apart.

      He was afraid that if he made the slightest sound, he might lose the precious sense of the light, the touch…the love that surrounded him.

      Finally they left, the door closed.

      

      It was in the morning that his grandfather spoke with him, stoic as always, firm in his belief in the Great Spirit, God, the Creator. There would always be an end to life here on earth, his grandfather told him, and it was how each man lived it that mattered, not the length of his lifespan. There was a world beyond, and it did not matter what a man called that world; it was simply there. His parents were gone from this place, and they could not be with him, not in the now. Nothing could hurt them anymore, ever. All they would know in the future would be the tender grace of their Maker. He—no matter what one chose to call him—would watch out for them.

      His grandfather was wise, and yet the boy couldn’t help but wonder if he himself wasn’t more at peace than the man who would now raise him. His grandfather’s eyes were filled with pain. He didn’t fully feel the truth of his own words; he hadn’t felt the gentle touch.

      The boy slipped his hand into his grandfather’s, then touched his face. His grandfather offered him the wisdom of the native peoples; his mother had brought him the fanciful mystery of a faraway country and the beliefs of the Old South. “It will be all right,” he said simply, knowing his parents were still alive in his heart and would always watch over him from above.

      “My boy.” His grandfather wrapped him close.

      Yes, the boy thought, his parents would be fine, in a world past all pain, all strife. But all the same, they were gone.

      His father would never throw him up in the air again, play ball with him, teach him, tell him tales of the Great Spirit. And his mother would never match those tales with her own Gaelic whimsies. The soft tinkle of her laughter would not come again, nor would she tell him that he was a big boy, yet tuck him into bed anyway.

      They would never offer him their deep, unconditional love again…

      No, that wasn’t true.

      He knew that love as deep and abiding as theirs had been was eternal. And there was comfort in that, a comfort that could ease loss and pain.

      But there were other elements in the world that were also eternal.

      Just as there was love, there was hatred.

      Just as there was gratitude, there was vengeance.

      He believed that he had a gift, and that his gift was special. But it wasn’t long before he learned that he was destined to face far more than the soft touch of love in the night.

      Contents

      About the Author

      Prologue

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      COMING NEXT MONTH

      1

      “Six, please,” Nikki DuMonde said. “Six.” She was smiling, but firm as she emphasized the number, indicating the tray where there were only five cups of café au lait. She and Andrea Ciello were in line at Madame D’Orso’s, as they so often were. Madame herself was wonderful, but apparently she was busy, and the young woman behind the counter seemed overwhelmed. It seemed quiet enough right now. Though many of the little terrace tables were taken, there was only one other person inside the café at the moment, and he was slumped against the far wall. She glanced toward him. He had looked up once and had an attractive face, eyes that were intelligent, cheekbones hard and sculpted. But his clothes were ragged, with a slept-in look; he was unshaven, and his hair was shaggy and unkempt.

      “Six coffees, six orders of beignets,” Andy added, flashing a smile as the girl added a cup to the tray along with plates filled with the delicious pastries so famous in New Orleans—and better, in the minds of the locals at Madame’s than any other place in the world. “S’il vous plaît,” she added.

      As the girl turned to ring up their order, Andy assessed Nikki with her exotic dark eyes. “My treat today,” she said.

      “Don’t be silly.”

      “No, ever since I came aboard, you’ve been wonderful.” She had only been a tour guide for Myths and Legends of New Orleans for about four weeks. For Nikki, it was old hat.

      “Hey, we all rely on each other, since we always work in pairs. And you’re doing just fine.”

      “Oh, I don’t know,” Andy said, tossing a length of her sleek dark hair over one shoulder. “I know all the stories, and sometimes I get chills, like there’s someone looking over my shoulder. But you…Nikki, it’s like you see ghosts.”

      Nikki shrugged, glancing around the café. “Maybe it’s just ingrained,” she said. “I went to school with half the palm readers and voodoo queens working the Quarter these days. I guess it’s like…well, walking into any place that’s really historical…and…”

      Nikki frowned and floundered, looking for the right word.

      “Creepy?” Andy suggested.

      Nikki shook her head. “Where deep feelings existed, where trauma occurred—like Westminster Abbey in London. When you walk in there—”

      “The place is like one giant cemetery,” Andy said dryly.

      Nikki СКАЧАТЬ