Chapter 13
We’d spent a good portion of the day at Gwyn’s old school, just clearing out ghosts. A few of them had given us a fight. Gwyn had relished seeing her bullies meet a very quick end. Let’s just say, Eli hadn’t spared them.
After, we paused for lunch. Booker split from us, as he had a set meeting with the local historian.
I was tapped out for the day, I had no juice left in me, so I retreated to the ranch.
Gwyn did as well, but she was in a far better mood after getting revenge this morning.
I was happy for her. Damn, wish I’d been able to get revenge on the ghosts who had hassled me as a kid.
When Booker came back about three hours later, he looked grimly satisfied? Not sure how else to describe it. Happy with having information, but the way his brows stayed furrowed indicated it hadn’t been good information, in a way.
I’d been reading when he came in, but I set my phone down. “What did the historian say?”
Booker sank into the couch across from me. More like flopped, really. “Where is everyone?”
“Still working houses. Well, Gwyn’s taking a long bubble bath, Brandon’s working out, but everyone else is still out.”
“I’ll update you first, then. So, local historian was able to give me a lot of names of some notable people who lived and worked here back in the day.
All of which is handy, but he also told me a crazy story about how the men known for having the largest copper mine operations—known as the copper kings of this area—actually weren’t the founders of the mines.
The original miners who discovered the area were two brothers, in fact, and they were doing good for themselves, even had their own company, when the copper kings moved in.
The way they set up their stores and everything, they created a monopoly and drove the two brothers completely out of business.
To the point they had to turn around and work for the copper kings just to survive. ”
“Ooooouch. That had to be salt in a wound.”
“I’d have left the area completely, honestly, not even tried to dig myself back out.
But they only worked another year here before there was a fight in a bar.
The brothers versus some of the copper kings’ diehard fans, and both brothers died due to injuries from the fight.
Historian told me he has no idea where they’re even buried, as they were given a pauper’s funeral. ”
Such a travesty, greed having destroyed two lives. “Those poor men.”
“I’m fairly sure one of the brothers is our gang leader because the slogan for their company was gold rides an iron horse.”
“Oh-ho. That’s very telling. Also would explain their obsession with this land, if it was stolen from them during life.”
“Right? It all fits. I might be off base, but if it’s not them, it’s someone who worked very closely alongside them.”
I sat on this new information for a moment, turning it over and over in my head. “What were the brothers’ names?”
“Joey and Jim Halfacre.”
“I’ll remember that. You got the names of their original employees?”
“I did. A partial record, at least. I figure those men are probably their gang.”
“Odds are good.” I slumped a bit more into the couch. “Ghost gangs. Still boggles the mind.”
“I’m getting all sorts of interaction on my forum post about it. It’s kinda fun, honestly, blowing people’s minds.” Booker’s expression turned sardonic. “Some fun needs to come from this migraine.”
“I do not envy you finding a way to turn it to your advantage. I only wish I could join you. Although I suppose I got an apprentice out of this.”
“Gwyn’s worth the headache,” Booker agreed lightly. “And on that note, I’m going to go type up everything I learned today before I forget something.”
“Go for it.” I picked my phone back up as if I was going to read more, but really, I kept turning the information over and over in my head.
Two brothers, run out of business, then killed in a senseless bar fight, eh?
Yeah, I could see how their obsession might have twisted them to the point of going demon.
Which begged the question: If therapy had existed then, I wondered how today’s ghost population would have been impacted? Food for thought. What I did know was, if their obsession was so deeply ingrained, then even Eli might have a hard time dealing with either brother.
And frankly, I wasn’t sure how much I could help her.
After a proper night’s rest and a hearty breakfast, I was ready to go again this morning.
This time we weren’t headed for the town proper, but south of Black Rock along the San Francisco River.
According to the local historian, there used to be a shanty town along the river there, and it had been an incredibly violent place.
Murders-happened-on-the-daily kind of violence.
In fact, the bar where the brothers had been murdered had been in the same area.
Odds were their unmarked grave was somewhere along there, too.
If there was ever a place for many ghosts, it would be there. Hopefully we could spot our wannabe demon, as well. I’d love to lay hands on him and figure out how to deal with him before his mob did even more damage.
Brandon pointed to a pull-off area that was nothing more than a historical marker on the side of the road and a view of the river. “There?”
“There works.” I kept a sharp eye on the area. “Lots of ghosts here. Mostly friendly.”
“Mostly?”
Gwyn piped up from the back seat. “I see one or two who are either a light grey or I’m-gonna-be-sick yellow.”
What a good way to describe the color. “They’re not bad yet, but they sure are leaning in that direction.”
Brandon shared a loaded look with me. Sometimes (not often) I could work with a ghost and pull them back from the ledge.
If you could work them through their obsession or grievance, you could help pass them on before they passed that point of no return.
Sometimes. These two were light enough in color, I might have a chance there.
In any case, no harm trying.
We piled out. Gwyn kept her messenger bag of goodies on her, Brandon had his Super Soaker and salt on him, but I kept my hands free. I only took the bag of lights in case we could convince some ghosts to pass on.
There was a narrow sort of goat trail in the dirt leading down to the riverbank. We picked our way down, and once I reached the sandy area, I realized many ghosts had taken notice of us. A few braver souls dressed in period clothing came in closer. There was some hesitance there.
I smiled. “Hi, I’m Mack, and a Medium. I’m here to help anyone who wants to pass on. Do I have any takers?”
Many hands shot up into the sky.
“Wonderful, wonderful. I’m going to set up some lights, and then we’ll take you one at a time. Ah, this is Gwyn, she’s an apprentice Medium. She’ll be helping as well, but try not to overwhelm her.”
Like the old hand he was, Brandon divvied up the lights with me, and we had our path laid out in record time.
We really should time ourselves at some point.
I think it only took us three minutes or so.
While setting up lights, I asked questions of any ghost hovering nearby.
No one had seen either Halfacre brother or the mob ghosts recently, but I kept asking with the hope I’d find some kind of intel to help us.
All lined up, I extended a hand to the first willing ghost. “Miss, take my hand. I’ll boost you a little and then guide you through. Just imagine you’re going home—because that’s what you’re doing.”
She took my hand, a little gingerly, but I passed her without any struggle.
That started a trend, and I had ghosts coming in single file, having organized themselves. Gwyn either took note of their names or took turns with me passing ghosts along. We had somewhere over thirty ghosts passed on in no time flat.
Passing ghosts on was more than a duty. I felt so bad for them, being stuck here when they didn’t want to be.
I imagined if I was ever in their shoes, I’d be praying someone came along who could help.
It was why I always took the time to offer.
I didn’t want that bleak future for these poor lost souls.
As many ghosts as there were, we started winding down.
The rest of the ghosts either kept their distance or showed no interest in what I offered.
That was fine. I wouldn’t force those who didn’t want to go.
Well, unless they were causing trouble, of course.
I still hadn’t found any information to help us, which was frustrating.
The man with the slightly yellow aura approached, but it wasn’t me or Gwyn who interested him. No, he went straight up to Brandon.
“Hey,” the ghost greeted. Then frowned when Brandon didn’t even glance in his direction.
I opened my mouth to intervene, but Gwyn neatly beat me to it.
She explained, “He’s not a Medium, he can’t hear you.”
“Oh.” The man stared at her for a long moment. “I want to ask this man a question.”
“Okay?” Gwyn offered her hand. “I can boost you so he can hear you.”
I was of two minds, as the ghost’s aura said he wasn’t completely stable, but he wasn’t being antagonistic right now. I’d give him a chance.
The ghost hesitated for a long moment before taking Gwyn’s hand.
Gwyn boosted him easily. She was really becoming a pro. Boosting a ghost was more instinct than anything, as you could do too much, and it took some experience to get a good feel for it. She’d gotten the feel for it quickly.
Brandon had watched her, and I saw the second he could see the ghost, as his eyes snapped to the man. “Oh, hello.”
The ghost seemed grimly satisfied now. He’d been a powerful figure in life, nearly as tall as Brandon. Not well dressed, probably a miner, as the clothing he wore was shabby on the edges and the knees worn out. A handsome man, though, his features strong and chiseled.
“This girl yours?”
Brandon blinked at the question. “Not in the way you mean it. She’s my lover’s apprentice. Mack is mine.”