Ghouls, Ghouls, Ghouls Part 10

"Mwf," said Gilley, with a vigorous nod and crumbs dotting his chin.

"Oh, my," said Anya, crossing herself before continuing. "That curse has been a bane on this village for some time now. If I'd have known you were off to explore Dunlow, I would have warned you like I did the others who came through here."

Anya had my full attention. "Others?" I asked. "What others?"

Anya shifted uncomfortably. "Many a guest here has asked me about Castle Dunlow and I always warn them not to go there. A few years back there was an incident at the rock, you see. A young man fell to his death, and the coast guard was called to investigate. One of their new recruits made his way to the top of the rock, and was immediately set upon by the phantom. Within moments, he too was tossed over the side to his death." Anya then made the sign of the cross, clearly disturbed by the local story. "As we've lost one of our own, my American friends, I'm afraid our good lads at the coast guard'll not be so willing to venture up those stairs ever again, even for the sake of your friend. They believe it's simply too dangerous."

"So what do we do?" Heath asked her.

Anya exhaled, made another sign of the cross, and refused to meet Heath's eyes. "At this point, you can only pray, lad. Just pray."

Chapter 6.

Anya left us alone after that and no one spoke for several minutes. Finally, Heath broke the silence and he said exactly what I was thinking. "We can't just leave him there."

"We have to go back and search for him," I agreed.

"But how do we get around the phantom?" asked John. "Guys, I'm all for rescuing Gopher, but that spook is seriously seriously dangerous, and I'm not interested in getting myself killed in the process." dangerous, and I'm not interested in getting myself killed in the process."

"Mwfnts!" said Gilley, halfway through his pancakes. The rest of us had stopped eating, but Gil still managed to soldier on.

John and Heath looked at me. "What'd he say?" asked Heath.

"Magnets."

"Ahhhh," they said together with a nod.

"You know, that's a good idea. We could all get sweatshirts like Gil's, and that phantom wouldn't be able to touch us," Heath added.

But I was worried about the time it would take to get us all oversized sweatshirts, find enough magnets to then glue onto the insides, allow the adhesive to dry-it would take most of the day just to create them. "What if we all just went with our spikes out and exposed?" I suggested, telling the boys also about my concerns with the time.

"I'm worried we won't have enough spikes," said Heath. "I mean, you saw that thing, M. J. We had our spikes out the first time we went looking for Gopher and it pretty much ran right over us. I think sweatshirts are the way to go."

"Okay," I relented. "But I think we should leave the girls behind. It's dangerous enough with just us, and I don't think it's fair to ask them to go back to the rock."

"Agreed," said Heath and John in unison again.

I glanced at Gilley. He was busy fiddling with his belt buckle, trying to loosen it a few notches. "Will you come with us, Gil?"

He stopped fiddling and focused on me but quick. "Are you serious?"

I knew I was asking a lot, but I had my reasons. "We can't all be wrapped in magnetic sweatshirts, Gil," I explained. "One of us has to be able to communicate with the castle's ghosts to find Gopher."

Heath eyed me sharply. "What are you saying?"

I took a deep breath. "I'm saying that I can't go in there wearing one of the sweatshirts. I've got to try and communicate with the resident spooks and see if any of them know where Gopher is. Otherwise, we'll be stuck there searching that enormous castle while the phantom waits to find a weak spot and attack us again."

"Aren't you you going to be our weak spot?" said Gil reasonably. going to be our weak spot?" said Gil reasonably.

"Yes. But I may be able to keep the phantom at bay long enough for you guys to get to me."

Heath studied me for a long moment. "I should be the one to go in naked."

Briefly, my mind went places it shouldn't have, before I shook my head and focused on the mission again. "I'll need you to keep your radar open, and alert me to the phantom's approach. You three are going to have to stay at least a dozen yards away from me at all times."

"Unless the phantom approaches, in which case we'll have to tackle you all at the same time," said John.

"Why do you need me, again?" Gilley squeaked. "You'll have John and Heath with you."

"You run the fastest, my friend."

Gilley looked like he was ready to cry.

"It's up to you, buddy," I told him gently. "If you can find the courage to come with us, great. I could sure use you on the team. But if you'd rather stay here, then I won't judge."

"I'd rather stay here!"

My hopes fell and my eyes dropped to the table. Intuitively I knew knew I'd need Gilley along, but I also understood what I was asking him to do. Still, it was really disappointing. I'd need Gilley along, but I also understood what I was asking him to do. Still, it was really disappointing.

"I mean, I'd really, really really rather stay here ... but I'll go anyway, M. J.," he added after a moment. rather stay here ... but I'll go anyway, M. J.," he added after a moment.

I lifted my chin. "You will?"

Gilley was pouting fiercely at me. "Yeah, yeah," he said. "On one condition."

"Anything."

"We don't stay longer than an hour. My delicate nerves can't take hanging out there longer than that."

For much of that morning we searched for our supplies. We finally found a shop that sold sweatshirts-although none was in a size large enough for Heath or John. "How about T-shirts?" I asked, holding up two XLs.

"We can wear our jackets over the magnets," said Heath, coming over to grab one of the T-shirts. "'Kiss me, I'm Irish,'" he read, and before I knew it, he was shrugging into it. He then stood in front of me and pointed to the lettering expectantly.

I chuckled and pushed him away. "You fool," I teased. "We don't have time for that. We need to get some magnets."

The four of us spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon scouring the Irish coastline for a shop that sold magnets. We came up with two small refrigerator magnets encased in plastic with the Irish flag on them.

"I had a feeling this was going to be harder than it sounded," I grumbled as we purchased those two and moved on.

Heath looked at his watch. "We need to make a decision," he said. "If we really want to go back to the castle before it gets dark, then we'll only have two hours of good daylight and a tide low enough to cross if we leave in the next hour or so."

"And there's no way I'm going back there when it's dark," Gilley said firmly.

I sighed in frustration. "Fine. Let's head to the B&B and get suited up. We'll have to go in using only the spikes and Gilley's sweatshirt, which really should be enough firepower. But keep the spikes fully exposed, guys. Strap them to your tool belts so there's no way you can drop them."

"Done," said Heath.

An hour and a half later we'd gone over our plan, changed and loaded up our tool belts with spikes (I carried some spikes too-but all mine were in their canisters), and we were on our way to the causeway.

John made a quick stop at the coast guard station to check if there had been any progress in the search for Gopher.

He rejoined us after a few minutes to report that no sign of our producer could be seen from the cursory check of the island.

Heath drove us down to the water and I wondered why I didn't see many local fishermen out and about. Certainly they would know the channel well enough to navigate the treacherous waters. "The currents are really strong," said Gil. "And there are lots of rocks that jut up to right below the surface. Small boats are advised to stay clear of Dunlow and the causeway."

"How do you know all that?" I asked him.

"While you guys were buying your T-shirts, I asked about renting a boat to get to Dunlow. I was told that no one rents to anyone going there, because so many boats have been damaged or sunk on the rocks near the island."

"Great," I muttered. "So if we get stuck on that stupid rock again, the only way off is to wait for low tide."

"Yep," said Gil. "Which is why we're only staying one hour. We are not not getting stuck again." getting stuck again."

When we reached the causeway, Heath parked next to our other van and secured the keys to the inside of his coat. "Ready?" he asked me.

I squinted at the ominous rock in the distance, where the castle was barely visible. "Not really. But when did that ever stop me?"

Heath wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me with him as we walked. "You realize that if I have my spikes drawn, I might not sense the phantom until it's nearly on top of you."

I swallowed hard. "I do now."

"But your own intuition should alert you in time."

I nodded. "Yeah. That's something."

"We should have a signal," he advised. "If you feel it before I do, and you need us to get to you, we should have a code word."

I smiled. "How does 'Help!' work for you?"

Heath chuckled. "It works."

"You guys just remember to stay together," I reminded him. "No one gets separated this time, okay?"

Heath saluted. "Aye, aye, Captain."

[image]

The causeway was easy going that afternoon. The storm surge had died down and there was no fog to obscure our path. We made it to the island without incident and as one we tilted our heads up to peer at the edge of the cliff.

No lurking shadow peered down at us, which I took as a good sign.

"Oh, man!" Gil whined.

I turned around and considered him. He was shaking a little and definitely pale. "You're fine, honey," I told him gently. "Remember, you're wearing the super sweatshirt. Nothing can hurt you as long as you're wearing that."

My best friend appeared to be ignoring me and his breathing was coming in quick little pants.

"Gil!" I said firmly. "You have to get a grip, okay? I can't have you flaking out up top. I'm depending on you." Gil said nothing. Instead he just continued to stare at the cliffs. "Seriously, honey, this is the only way we can get Gopher back. Please let me know you can do this."

Gilley's large round eyes met mine and he pressed his lips together and pumped his head up and down. "Mmmm, hmmm!" he said.

I patted him on the shoulder. "That's my Gilley."

John made note of the time and we all moved to the stairs. My shoulders sagged a little as I thought about the arduous climb up-my legs were still tired and aching from the day before-but there was no use complaining about it.

We moved steadily up the stairs, huddling close together. On the way both John and Heath unsheathed their spikes and secured them to their tool belts. I left my canisters alone, but it was hard to resist the urge to pull them out and walk up there fully armed.

We reached the top and paused at the landing, waiting and watching for any movement or sense of the phantom's presence. All was still and quiet except for the wind and the call of a few seagulls.

Ahead of us, the ma.s.sive form of the castle loomed, and its dark exterior appeared to mock us in the bright light of day. "Shall we?" Heath whispered.

"I think we'd better," I replied.

Heath led us cautiously to the large keep door and we ducked inside, bypa.s.sing the ruins of the fire we'd burned the night before. Inside the front hall we paused again and listened.

Nothing moved and no disturbance came to our ears.

Heath motioned us forward again and I could feel my heart begin to race and goose pimples p.r.i.c.kled my skin. The phantom was somewhere nearby, waiting and watching.

"Come on," I said. "Let's get this over with."

We moved quickly and quietly down the central corridor to the branch where the phantom had previously attacked Heath and me. There, I held up my hands to stop the group. "This is where I move forward, and you guys keep about twenty to twenty-five feet back."

Heath really looked like he didn't like the idea, but he held his tongue and gave my shoulder a soft squeeze.

"Please be careful, M. J.," Gil whispered.

"Count on it," I told him. I then turned and walked away from the magnetic protection of the group.

In one hand I held my flashlight; in the other I held a grenade. On the drive to the beach I'd practiced popping off the lid with my fingers so that I wouldn't have to tuck my flashlight under my arm to get at the spike. I hoped that opening the canister and dropping the spike at my feet would give the guys enough time to reach me.

At twenty feet, I knew Gil could reach me in about three seconds. Flat.

"One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi ...," I counted. It didn't feel like very long.