Grave Phantoms (Roaring Twenties #3)(9)

Lightning flashed in the windows. The survivors stepped outside the circle and embraced the sack-tied people. And as they did, Astrid saw a single person left standing in the middle of the circle. A woman in a deep red robe. Some kind of priestess. She was elderly—her hands were horribly wrinkled, and strands of white hair peeked from her hood—and though her back faced Astrid, when lightning flashed a second time, she could almost make out her blurred face in the mirror over the bar—

And then it was over. Astrid had snapped back into her body. It was the strangest thing she’d ever experienced, and even now, made her shudder.

“Do you think the idol infected me with some sort of magic?” she whispered. “Remember what happened to Winter when he got cursed and started seeing ghosts? I definitely do not want to see ghosts.”

“Winter was cursed on purpose. There’s no way anyone could have known you’d pick that idol up.”

“What was it?”

“I don’t know, but whatever kind of charge it held seems to be gone.” From the pocket of his suit jacket, he retrieved a gray handkerchief embroidered with his initials and unfolded it. Inside the fabric, turquoise winked.

It was definitely a stylized figure. The carving was crude yet beautiful, the bright blue surface covered in a delicate web of cracks. The figure’s wide eyes were inlaid with gold, and a strange symbol was embossed on a gold disk in the middle of the idol’s stomach.

“You kept it?” she whispered.

“I touched it after you did, but nothing happened.” He demonstrated with a finger. “It was hot to the touch before, but it’s cooled down. If what you saw is somehow real—”

“It was real, Bo. You have to believe me.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I believe you. You Magnussons are a goddamn magnet for the supernatural.”

In addition to Winter’s wife being a trance medium, Lowe’s wife, Hadley, was a museum curator who’d inherited a regiment of ancient Egyptian death specters from her cursed mother.

So, no, the Magnussons weren’t exactly a normal family.

But it was different to witness strange phenomena happening to someone else and a whole other thing to experience it yourself. She hoped Bo was right, and that the vision was merely an unhappy accident.

Bo folded the idol back inside the linen. “Maybe the ritual they were performing on the yacht somehow got absorbed into the idol. Like a magical memory.”

“How can we find out?”

“No idea.” He sighed heavily and looked at her with a forlorn expression. “Winter is going to murder me for letting you come on that boat.”

She handed him the empty water glass. “Does he know we’re here?”

“No, but I’ll have to tell him eventually, and he’s not going to be happy.”

“Bo,” she said, leaning closer to whisper. “Those other people I saw . . . What if the survivors murdered them?”

“We don’t even know if they exist. I believe you saw what you said you did, but let’s be practical. The owner of the yacht might be able to identify the survivors. If there are missing people who were on board, she might know that, too.”

“The boots . . .” She paused and stared up at him. “There was something funny about them, and I think I just realized what. I know it sounds crazy, but I think the boots were made of metal. Like, iron, maybe.”

“Iron boots,” Bo muttered. “How could you even walk in them?”

“What if they weren’t for walking? What if they were intended to weigh someone down? Think about it. Burlap bags? That’s just bizarre. What if the survivors threw those people overboard to drown?”

Quick footfalls approached the hospital room’s door. Astrid looked up, expecting to see Nurse Dupree returning, but two other people stopped outside the door: the police chief and a woman wearing an expensive crimson coat and feathered hat.

For a moment, Astrid’s mind jumped to the red-robed priestess in her vision, until she reminded herself that the priestess had been white-headed, and this one was blond and couldn’t have been a day over twenty-five.

“I can assure you of that, Mrs. Cushing,” the police chief was telling the blonde. “If they are fit to leave the hospital tomorrow, we will release them into your custody until their families can be notified. You are kind to offer them shelter.”

“It’s the least I can do,” the woman replied with a smile. “Whatever happened to them at sea, I can only say I’m thankful they’re still alive. And I’m grateful you called me about this matter. I know you’ll get everything straightened out.”

“That we will, ma’am,” the chief said.

The woman nodded and glanced past him. Her gaze connected with Astrid’s for a moment, and then the pair continued on their way down the hall.

“I wonder who that was,” Bo said as Nurse Dupree strode through the door.

“Mrs. Cushing?” the nurse said, nodding over her shoulder. “That’s the widow who owns the yacht.”

“Excellent.” Bo sprung from the bed and headed toward the door. “I need to speak with her about towing it off our property.”

“You can try to catch her, but I think she’s leaving with her driver.”

“Don’t move,” Bo said, pointing a finger at Astrid in warning. “I’ll be right back.”