Must Love Ghosts (Banshee Creek Book 1) (18 page)

So Abby was singing stuff that was centuries old? That was pretty amazing.

Cassie closed the feeding kit, still lecturing. "I can discuss about how communities used folk tales, and songs based on folk tales, to deal with societal trauma. It's not a coincidence that the songs became popular again in the war-torn sixties. That will get my students talking. College students love the sixties, you know, because of all the drugs and free sex."
 

"But the songs aren't about war."

"No," she replied. "But they're about the effects of war. Laws are broken and social contracts are breached. As a result, promises are not kept, murders are not tried, legacies are stolen, fiancées are abandoned and so on. Society doesn't address these things, but they are still there, festering under the surface, and they come up in stories and songs. The song repairs the social fabric by rewarding the hero and punishing the villain. The truth comes out, the ghost kills his murderer, and the rightful king is restored to the throne. The songs are a stabilizing mechanism after the calamity of war."

"So they're like propaganda?" He vaguely recalled something like this from his PsyOps training. The rightful king stuff, in particular, sounded familiar. He vaguely recalled writing an essay on it.

"Sometimes they are, although it's less controlled, less deliberate, and also, less efficient. Also, in order to be effective, the song, like propaganda, has to have a bit of truth in it, a hook, like Abby would say. Otherwise it just won't take. There has to be a psychological truth underneath."

That
definitely
sounded like his PsyOps instructor. He gazed at purple-tressed Cassie with new respect. He'd seriously underestimated her. She really knew her stuff.

And maybe he could learn from her.

"Like the haunted guitar that tells a story?" he asked. Something about that song had really gotten under his skin. He couldn't stop thinking about it. Maybe Cassie could help.

"It actually tells two stories," Cassie explained, sounding very much like a college professor. "I like how Abby handled that. The murderous sister is defiant when the guitar fingers her as the killer, but she collapses when the guitar tells her that the guy she married is still in love with her dead sister. That was a nice touch. The audience is expecting one secret to come out, but is unprepared for the second."

Mike nodded. "So that's what the song is really about," he said thoughtfully. "Truth." Something clicked in the back of his mind, like a long-lost puzzle piece. Abby's clothes, Cole's boxes, the monster-hunting camping trip...all things that had been bothering him for the past two days and all things that made sense now. A feeling of dread came over him, like a dark cloud.

He'd been trying to fit into someone else's life.

Cassie shrugged. "Secrets, lies, guilt. They all work." She tapped the feed box thoughtfully. "I have to work the Vietnam War in there somewhere though. That's the first rule of academic jiu-jitsu:
Vietnam Means Tenure
."

She walked off, muttering to herself, and Mike was left alone. His head was swirling. He wasn't an intellectual like Cassie. Hell, he'd understood barely a fraction of her conversation. He had no idea who this Child guy was, and he didn't know anything about that Joan person or the Whatchamacallit Fair. But he did understand a couple of things: promises, dead lovers...and truth. His military career had taught him many things, among them that you couldn't avoid facts, you had to face them straight on.

He'd been a coward. He hadn't fulfilled his mission. He'd gotten distracted, rather like one of those knights in Abby's ballads, the one's who strayed into Fairyland and remained there for years, dazzled by the glamour.

But he wasn't dazzled anymore. The question was, what was he going to do now? Push forward or strategic retreat? All his life, he'd been able to count on two things, his brains and his courage, but, right now, he didn't feel brave or strong. He felt hurt, and confused.
 

And scared.
 

For the first time in a long time he was at a total loss.
 

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-T
WO

A
BBY
OPENED
her eyes and closed them again. She was warm and cozy inside her sleeping bag and she didn't want to get up.

 
But it was morning and she could hear people moving around the campsite. Cassie was calling people to breakfast. No, wait, now she was shouting at Caine who was trying to eat all the bacon.

Mmm, bacon.

She should get up. She really should. If she didn't hurry, she'd miss breakfast. She turned, willing herself into wakefulness. A sharp pain in her shoulder did the trick. Oh, man, she was terribly stiff. The hard ground had really done a number on her back. And the naughty acrobatics she'd done with Mike didn't help either. She stretched.
Ah, post-coital soreness, we meet again.

She looked around. She was alone. Well, that wasn't a surprise. Mike was an early riser, and he'd probably been up for a while now. The thought cheered her up. Boy Scout Mike would definitely save her some bacon.

Then she noticed the small box, carefully placed on top of the sleeping bag, directly on top of the unicorn's horn. There was an envelope next to the box.

She propped herself up and reached for the envelope. That's when she noticed that Mike's duffle bag was gone. So were his clothes. He could have gotten dressed to go outside and he could have gotten a head start on their packing by taking the duffle bag back to the car.

But something told her that wasn't the case.

Her hands shook as she opened the envelope. There were two pieces of paper inside, one was new and in Mike's handwriting. The other was dirty and wrinkled, as if it had been folded and refolded many times.

She opened the dirty one, and her heart skipped a beat.
 

It was from Cole.

She read it once, then twice. Then she folded it with care, put it aside, and read Mike's note. She stared at the words for a while then she opened the box.

She stared at the contents, tears welling in her eyes. She felt light-headed and strange, as if she were having one of those out-of-body experiences that Cassie had researched last year while she was working on her alien abductions as modern folklore paper.

A shadow fell over the tent. Someone was outside. Abby hurriedly wiped the tears out of her eyes.

"Hey, guys," Cassie said. "Hurry up or Caine's going to eat all the processed meat products. You'll have to eat the soy sausage. And, trust me, you don't want to eat the soy sausage."

Abby didn't answer.

"Guys?" Cassie asked, bending over the tent entrance.

"I'll be out in a sec," Abby called. Her voice came out a bit like a sob, and she sniffled and forced herself to calm down. She didn't want her friends to see her fall apart. If Cassie saw her crying, she'd hunt Mike down and put him through an alien abduction reenactment, anal probe included.

"Are you okay?" Cassie said, her shadow looming over the tent.
 

Abby tried to reassure her friend, but no words came out. She didn't seem capable of speech.

Cassie unzipped the tent entrance, and stared at her, worry clearly etched on her face.
 

"What's wrong, sweetie," she said, crawling into the tent and kneeling next to Abby. She looked around. "Where's Mike?"

"He's gone," Abby said, trying to sound calm. "At least, I think so."

"You think..." Cassie's voice trailed off as Abby handed her the box.

Cassie opened it, and took out a gold filigree ring with a large blue stone. She frowned at Abby, confused.

"It's from Cole," Abby explained with a sob. "It was supposed to be my engagement ring."

"Oh, honey," Cassie said, wrapping her arms around her.

Abby leaned into the embrace, feeling the tears return.
 

"He found it in a flea market in Kabul. He wrote me a note after he bought it." She handed Cassie the wrinkled up paper. "The seller told him it was a magic ring, that it would bring my true love back to me. I guess it didn't work." She sobbed. "Cole didn't come back."

She cried on Cassie's shoulder. Her friend hugged her tightly, letting the grief pour out. One of Cassie's purple braids tickled her nose. It smelled of campfire smoke and grape hair dye. The smell brought her back to reality. She wasn't a bereaved fiancée anymore. She was Abby Reed, Future Country Super Star.
 

"And Mike had the ring?" Cassie asked.

"Yes, Cole gave it to him for safekeeping. He was trying to deliver it to me. He couldn't figure out how." A teary giggle escaped her as she showed Cassie Mike's note. "Mailing it seemed too risky, and he kept reenlisting so he couldn't bring it back. He made it to Germany once, but he didn't want to send it with a courier. He thought it would be too impersonal. As soon as he got back to the States he came to give it to me."

"But it took him a couple of years," Cassie finished for her.

"Right," Abby said, sniffling. "And, as soon as he got to Banshee Creek, I jumped him. I guess he didn't know how to deal with that."

"He never told you he had it?"

Abby shook her head. Mike was an idiot. He'd traveled half the world with a piece of ethnic jewelry because he couldn't figure out how to send it to her.
 

 
"It's very pretty," Cassie said, admiring the dark blue stone.

Abby nodded. Who would pick lapis lazuli for an engagement ring? Only Cole Hunt. She blinked back the tears. Cole would have loved the record-busting costume party and this crazy owl-focused camping trip and her heart hurt for him. He'd missed so much.

"It looks old," Cassie commented. "And it has a legend, you say?"

"Yes, Cole's letter explains it." Of course the ring had a story. Cole knew she liked old stories.

She felt another tear roll down her cheek. Who were the tears for? Was it for Cole, whom she'd loved so much? She'd cried so much over Cole, she thought she'd never cry again.

She'd been wrong.

Cassie nodded and picked up the letter. She read it quickly. "This is fantastic."
 

Abby smiled through her tears. "It's just a crazy story an Afghan merchant cooked up to lure a customer. It's probably not even a real legend."

The bracing cold of reality did not dim her friend's enthusiasm.

"Oh, ye of little faith," Cassie said, putting the ring back in the box. "I think it will be a great addition to the PRoVE Museum. It will be perfect for the Mystical Objects Exhibit."

"What museum?" Abby asked, thoroughly confused.
 

"The one I just made up," her friend said, laughing. "You don't want to keep it, do you?"

Abby shook her head. It was a lovely ring, but she didn't want it. She'd loved Cole with all her heart, but he was gone. He'd been gone for years.
 

She was moving on.

Cassie nodded and stashed the ring box into one of her jacket pockets.
 

"I think Cole would love the idea of a PRoVE museum," she said. "And I get to kill two birds with one stone. The museum will suck up the turkey vulture budget and take care of Cole's ring at the same time. By the way, I'll need a copy of the 'Girls of Gold' score." Her brow arched. "You know, for the exhibit."

Abby laughed and Cassie joined in. A PRoVE Museum. Who'd have thought it? But Cassie was right. It was the perfect solution and Cole would thoroughly approve.
 

After a couple of minutes the cathartic merriment died away and they sat quietly, staring at the letters.

"So Mike left?" Cassie asked.

"Yep," Abby replied curtly.
 

Her tears were over, and grief was giving way to a different emotion.

Anger.
 

Cassie noticed the change. "Left without saying a word, huh? Purple Heart, shmurple heart. That guy is a lily-livered coward."

"I think it was a Medal of Honor," Abby corrected. "But, yeah, I agree with you."
 

Wholeheartedly. Mike Stone was a yellow-bellied scaredy-cat for sure. How dare he leave a letter and run away?
 

"He had to bring it to me," she continued. "He had no other choice. But he should've given it to me face to face." She glared at the innocent trinket, feeling her anger grow. "I can't believe he just left."

Cassie smiled her approval. "You sound furious. Furious is good."

"I'm not furious." Abby's fists clenched. "I'm
enraged
. How dare he? He just left me here with my dead fiancée's ring? What kind of unfeeling monster does that?"
 

Cassie waved the note. "He says he loves you, and he thinks you're still in love with Cole. I think he was just trying to protect himself. Poor guy."

Abby grabbed the note.

"He's an idiot," she hissed, tearing the note in half. "A heartless, unfeeling idiot." She picked up the pieces and tore them again. She kept tearing until a small pile of white confetti obscured the face of the purple unicorn.

Cassie stared at the pile of paper.

"And he loves you," she said quietly.

Abby sighed.

"I know."

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-T
HREE

A
RLINGTON
WASN
'
T
that bad, Mike thought. The Potomac River was a spectacular backdrop for a morning run. The trail he was jogging on was in good condition, the joggers were polite, and the bells of the Netherlands Carillon tolled sweetly as he sped by.
 

All in all, Arlington, Virginia was not a bad place to be. He stopped at a glitzy coffee shop and picked up a couple of granola bars. The açai and flaxseed blend did not appear very appetizing, but the granola bars were undeniably healthy.

Much healthier than apple cider donuts.

He pushed the thought away. He wasn't going to think about Abby, or Banshee Creek, or PRoVE. He'd acted like a jerk, he knew that, but he'd done what he had to do. A clean break was always best.