Deadly Fate (Krewe of Hunters #19)(25)

She didn’t blink.

The image simply...disappeared into mist and then into nothingness.

Where Amelia Carson had been, there was just air. Beyond that air, his face obscured by the living room shadows, was the FBI man, Thor Erikson.

She just stood there, afraid to move, afraid to give away any indication she had just seen a dead woman before her.

But Thor Erikson came striding toward her then and she saw the intensity in his ice-blue eyes. He caught her by the wrist and spoke with a deep, ragged voice. “You saw her, too.”

Clara blinked at last.

They’d said that the Destiny was filled with ghosts. Clara knew that Alexi had seen them.

And maybe Clara had sensed things or thought that she had, but...

Alexi had seen and spoken with the dead—so she had sworn. And when she had talked about it, sometimes, Clara had actually believed in ghosts...

But...

She had never seen a full-blown image such as this, as if the dead woman in the snow had come back to life.

In one piece.

“I saw her. But you saw her—I know that you did. I saw your face. She spoke to you. What did she say?”

Clara shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Amelia Carson.”

“Amelia Carson is dead. We saw her—both halves of her,” Clara said.

His eyes really could be so cold, and like ice, they could burn.

She was afraid. Afraid as she had never been before.

And too afraid to admit what she had seen.

“Let me go, Agent Erikson. Let me go, please!” she said.

He released her instantly. She forgot all about tea and hurried back to her room, closing the door behind her.

Then, just as quickly, she opened her door.

If she saw anything again, anything at all, she was going to scream. She was happy to have the door open, knowing a police officer walked the corridor.

But could a police officer save her from the dead?

Or was Amelia dead? That was it—the whole thing was a hoax. A massive hoax. She’d seen ridiculously expensive things done by Gotcha before. They’d hired a whole crew of actors to pose as police officers; Jackson—hard to believe as it was!—had been coerced to come in on the prank; and in the morning, Amelia and Natalie would be there, laughing at a prank done in the worst taste known to man!

She was overtired; her nerves were completely on edge.

They couldn’t get Jackson Crow in on such a ridiculous scheme, could they?

Jackson was head of the Krewe of Hunters. The Krewe stepped in when the unusual seemed to be part of the horror that was happening.

The unusual...such as ghosts.

No, no, it couldn’t be real. It was smoke and mirrors, it was trickery—it was the magic of film.

She wasn’t even sure what she was doing when she went back out.

The officer in the hall spoke to her. “More tea?” he asked sympathetically.

She ignored him and returned to the kitchen. Thor Erikson was sitting on a rustic stool by the island counter. He looked at her, frowning.

She walked back over to the stove area, tired, and yet suddenly determined that she was going to have the truth—whatever it might be.

“I have to admit, you look good. And them getting Jackson in on it—coup d’état!” she said.

“What?”

“You know, trust me, I’ve been acting for years. I am not a household name, but I love what I do, and I survive at it. If that’s what you’re looking for, there are much better ways to get ahead. How did you come into doing this? You’re really in great shape—that usually means a stripper trying to break into movies. Hey, I have plenty of friends who have tried it for a while—good money, I’ve been told. Allows you lots of time for auditions. But, honestly, using this Gotcha thing to try to break in? What, you’re trying to be a television personality? Whatever, I have had it! This is it—it ends here!”

He stared at her, frowning, his expression confused at first, then incredulous, and then hard and angry.

Maybe he could make it as an actor.

“Miss Avery, I believe that even an actress accustomed to dealing in the world of fantasy should have grasped this situation by now. I don’t know—”

“Stop! Both of you!”

Clara knew, before she turned, who was speaking. An eerie sensation snaked up the length of her spine and radiated throughout her.

She’s here again. Amelia Carson.

But she stood there for just one moment, looking at the two of them pleadingly.

Then the officer who had been in the hall was at Clara’s side, shaking his head. “Miss... Agent Erikson? Is something wrong?”

Before either of them could answer him, it seemed that a crowd had formed; Clara realized that she’d been all but shouting when she’d spoken to Agent Erikson.

They appeared like a very strange Greek chorus. Ralph, Simon and Larry bundled in the Alaska Hut robes, the cops in uniform, a very sleepy Agent Aklaq still in rumpled plain clothes and then the film crew—Nate, Becca and Thomas—coming up from the other hallway. Magda and Justin Crowley were there, looking very grumpy in their own robes.

Obviously they’d been sleeping just fine until the commotion in the kitchen had wakened them.

Clara realized that Jackson was there, as well, alert—ready to come to her defense if necessary.