S.M. Peters - Ghost Ocean
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Beings of unimaginable power, classified as myths and legends, have been imprisoned in the secluded town of St. Ives for centurieswatched over by guardians with supernatural skills. Te Evangelines father was one such guardian, a binder who died in the line of duty and who passed along his ability to his daughter. Now, Te must awaken the magic within her before her fathers killer releases his fellow prisoners on an unsuspecting world.
S.M. Peters: author's other books
Who wrote Ghost Ocean? Find out the surname, the name of the author of the book and a list of all author's works by series.
S.M. Peters
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Acknowledgments
To Alan Moore (again) for inspiring me with his prodigious beard, and to all the other artists who fed my ravenous brain, and to the great Mystery. To my brother for his depth of imagination and his friendship. To Whitmore for showing me that it can be done. To Jessica for working miracles with word count (I believe!). To Don for his faith and understanding. To Cam, Greg, Andrew, Jen, Leah, Erin, and everyone else (you know who you are)good luck, chums! And to my muse, with a kiss and a soft touch.
About the Author
S. M. Peters is not an ex-spy, ex-lawyer, ex-physicist, ex-Navy SEAL, or ex-Wall Street executive. He lives in Middle-of-Nowhere on Lake Okanagan, British Columbia, from where he commutes into the city to spend all day telling adolescents to fix their comma splices and spell a lot as two words. He is happily married and owns more animals than the Calgary Zoo. His previous novel is Whitechapel Gods.
Chapter 1
The Comical Girl
This is a sham, Te thought.
Te shut the car door behind her and pulled her jacket collar close around her neck. Always raining in this damn town. Theyd pulled up beside a country house walled in by a giant hedge. It sure didnt look haunted.
Her boss, Babu Cherian, crashed things around in the trunk of the Cadillac and at last handed her a canvas backpack.
Full gear today, he grumbled, which was the first thing the big African man had said since hed pulled up in front of Tes place and barked at her to get her shit together because they had a job.
Te sighed. Full gear meant three flashlights, candles and matches, two cameras, two notebooks, extra EMF detectors, barometers, a dozen other electronics, and extra batteries for everything. The backpack must have weighed sixty pounds.
I appreciate this, Babu, Te said, but I dont need to be distracted. Im really okay.
Babu didnt even glare at her as he busied himself jamming things into another backpack.
Te knew this investigation was just to get her out of her apartment and keep her busy. Tes dad had died when she was seventeen, five years ago, on this dayshe checked her watchand pretty close to this time, and every year there was someone who didnt trust her to be alone.
Te watched Babus broad shoulders bang against the sides of the trunk as he packed. She hated him for babying her and she was glad he cared enough.
You said this was just a sighting, Te said. Tired of clawing her uncombed black hair out of her face, she bunched it into a rough ponytail and secured it with a tie. She glanced at her handsthe midmorning light made her skin look paler than usual.
I lied, said Babu.
Then are you going to tell me why were here?
No. Just stay close to me. His hand shot out as Te finished buckling the chest and waist straps of her pack around her thin frame.
Whats that? She took the object he was holding out, a small animal-skin sack of some sort on a long string. She tried to place it. African? Native American?
Put it around your neck, he said.
I thought you didnt believe in this stuff.
Babu chewed at the cigarette between his teeth. I dont, he said, but it was your dad who taught me the power of psychology. Just put it on, okay?
Te grumbled a bit, but slung the rough string over her neck. The little sack rested on her chest, just below her collarbone. It was dry and stiff, and gave her a shiver when it touched her skin.
Babu had finished suiting up. He straightened and slammed the trunk. His own backpack looked even heavier than hers, and he had a utility belt to boot.
Te found herself listening to that little twitter in her gut.
Whats going on? she asked.
Then he did something that made her heart seize up.
He offered her a gun.
She could only stare at itand at him. His jaw was tight beneath the close beard, his eyes hard. Whats that for? Te stared down at the guna pistol, black and gleaming like a shark.
I once told your dad I would protect you, he said. Its only in case I cant do that.
Gingerly, she took the cold metal from his palm. It was heavier than it should have been for its size.
Nine millimeter, he said. Safetys here. He pointed to the little switch and moved it back and forth. Onmeans it cant fire. Offmeans it can. Sight along the top through these metal tabs here. Make sure to use both hands, and dont lock your elbows.
Te could only stare at it for some long seconds. First she thought, The job isnt a sham. And then, He said this was a paranormal job. What does a ghost hunter need a gun for?
Babu had one, too, hanging from his utility belt. He passed her a holster. Loop it onto your belt.
She did so mechanically, watching him closely now. During the long ride here, to this country estate upriver from the city, Babu had been silent, his heavy brows down, shoulders hunched inside his blazer. Te hadnt thought it was anything more than the dates significance. She hadnt noticed the taut muscles in his jaw, the slight shake of his fingers as he fiddled with clips and straps.
Babu, whats going on? she asked.
Maybe nothing, he said. Just let me go first, okay?
Always do, she murmured. The gun bit into her hip. She noticed Babu had removed the safety clasp on his. Babu threw his cigarette into a puddle and went first. Te pushed after him through the gate, beneath an arch of hedge leading into the yard. The gate swung silently closed, shaking free drops of rain.
The hedge seemed taller from the inside, muffling sound from the outside world and hiding everything but the overcast sky and the tops of the hills on either side of the St. Ives valley. Blank-eyed garden statues of Indian gods stared at her from their domains around little ponds, flower beds, and the roots of trees. The garden was dominated by a cast-iron Shiva, trident aimed at the chest of any intruders who dared trespass under the arch.
Te nearly jumped out of her shoes when Babu started yelling. Sanjay? he called out. Sanjay!
He walked cautiously up the footpath, his EMF meter out in front. She thumbed hers on, to find the needle jumping erratically. It didnt necessarily mean ghosts. Maybe the guy was doing levitation experiments in his basement or something.
Or something.
She was ten feet back from Babu when he took to the front steps. The house leaned over them, two stories of oldtimey, canary yellow charmwhite shutters, green eaves troughswhich was about as far from leering statues of Hindu deities as you could get. Just moved in, maybe? Set up the statues but hadnt had time to repaint?
A sudden rustling from the right caught her attention. She spun toward it, swinging her EMF reflexively. A little black nose poked out of the hedge, followed by a white and pale yellow snout.
A fox. Were way out in the country, so of course therell be foxes.
But there werent any birdsat least not inside the hedgesand, when she paid attention, no insect sounds, either.
She was three feet back from Babu when he got to the front door. He rang the doorbell. Protocol over peril, she guessed. It was Babus personal motto.
When that got no answer, he knocked loudly, yelling Sanjays name a few more times.
From his tool belt, he took a police lock breaker and jammed it into the lock. Werent those illegal? Where was Babu getting his gear?
He twisted the knob and nudged the door open with his foot. It opened onto a small front hall, leading down to a bigger room that was too dark to make out.
Lay out a coin, he said, suddenly quiet. He pointed to a little stool next to the door.
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