Page 19 of Ghost Business (Boneyard Key #2)

Twelve

All things considered, that had gone pretty great.

It would have gone even better if Sophie had taken the bait.

Really gotten mad and lit into him, the way she had the first time, when they went viral.

But it was still a perfect organic moment, and plenty of the guests—both from her tour and his—had their phones out.

Chances were good that a video should be hitting the internet soon. Damn, his father was right after all.

Not that Tristan was ever going to admit that to him.

His run-in with Sophie had been the best part of the night, which honestly was pretty sad.

The green glow had been back tonight at Mystic Crystals, and a shadowy figure had waved to him from an upper window as he was wrapping up his dead doctor story.

And while Tristan had been creeped out, it had been great for the tour.

A couple patrons had actually screamed, while some others had laughed, certain that Tristan had planted someone up there to scare them.

It almost made him wish he’d thought of that.

Something to file away for a future tour in another city, maybe?

He’d even debuted a new story tonight. On one of his morning runs he’d spotted a little side path by the fishing pier that led down to a small strip of beach.

The wheels had started turning, and before long he’d come up with a story to set there.

He hadn’t found a spot yet for one of his old standards—the guy-with-a-hook-for-a-hand ghost, preying on innocent teenagers looking for a place to make out.

This secluded alcove looked like as good a make-out spot as any, and he was excited to get this story back into rotation.

The path was narrower than he’d expected it to be—he really should have scoped out this little sandbar ahead of time—and it wasn’t as neglected as it had seemed.

There were even fresh footprints in the sandy soil.

Only about half of the tour group followed him all the way down to the water.

The rest had chickened out, staying grouped safely up by the pier, so he’d had to speak from his diaphragm to project that far. An easy job for a former theatre kid.

“Just as he was about to steal a kiss—and let’s face it, more than a kiss—they were interrupted by a scraaaaaaaping noise, coming from the pier.

The young man went to investigate, but the girl ran home, terrified.

” He paused for effect, knowing that holding the lantern just so would make his face light up in the most unnerving way.

“The next morning, the authorities found two things hanging from the pier: a hook, and the young man’s head! ”

Tristan was worried this new story would be a little gruesome for his audience, but they ate it up, reacting with faux terror and mostly laughter. It was all in the delivery, he reminded himself with a mental pat on the back. Ghosts weren’t real, so they didn’t deserve to be taken seriously.

As they headed back up to the street, Tristan brought up the rear, holding his LED lantern high.

He was just about to step off the sand when a shiver wracked his whole body, an involuntary spasm that felt like a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped over his head.

Tristan stumbled, lantern light wavering, but he recovered quickly.

“Tripped over a root, there!” he said a little louder than necessary, then he led the group on before anyone could point out that there weren’t any trees nearby. Thank God this night was almost over; too much weird shit was happening.

Once his charges had dispersed, he took off his top hat and shook out his hair.

It was just his nerves, he told himself.

He’d had to contend with the green glow at Mystic Crystals, the skeletal hand pointing right at his heart, and just when he’d gotten his composure back, he’d run into Sophie.

No wonder he was on edge. Now he was imagining things, like a cold breeze down by the water that made him shiver.

A beer on the way home should set things right.

The night started looking up once he got to The Haunt.

Tony had warmed up to him again, so in no time Tristan had a pint of his favorite lager in front of him, with the promise of that night’s cheeseburger special on the way.

That first sip was heavenly, and Tristan closed his eyes in bliss.

His throat was scratchy from a night of storytelling and a touch of hay fever played hell with his sinuses.

The beer helped with both, but after a few sips, weariness settled over him.

Something felt off, and he didn’t know how to describe it.

Sophie’s words from a few weeks ago echoed back in his ears.

The ghosts here in town don’t have a problem with me…

Implying that they had a problem with him.

It would be something to be concerned about—if ghosts existed and weren’t just a marketing schtick employed by an entire town.

Tristan knew about marketing schticks, but there was something about this one.

He thought bringing his ghost tour here was a no-brainer, but something about his tour, something about him… didn’t quite fit here.

And that didn’t make sense. Tristan fit in everywhere.

The Haunt was bustling tonight. The steel drum band had the night off; instead, a ramshackle-looking group of mostly retirees played their way through songs that had been hits before Tristan was born.

Around him, tables of tourists talked and laughed, ate and drank their way through another night of vacation.

And while Tristan’s favorite thing to do was make friends, and his favorite place to be was at the center of attention, tonight he wanted to blend in.

He sat at the bar, and between bites of the best burger he’d had in his life and sips of good, cold beer, he let the atmosphere around him, the conversation and music and laughter, fill his ears and settle in his bones. It felt like a night off. It felt good.

Until he heard the words “ghost tour.”

All of Tristan’s senses sharpened, focused on those two words picked out of the general commotion.

His eyes narrowed. He willed his ears to work harder.

Where had that come from? There. A couple tables away—four people finishing off a platter of onion rings—a man in a blue T-shirt, his back to Tristan, nodded emphatically.

“Totally!” he proclaimed. “Absolutely worth every penny. I think it’s on tomorrow night too. You should go!”

Tristan’s spine straightened, a smile spreading across his face. That was the kind of praise that made it all worthwhile. He didn’t recognize the man, but Tristan also didn’t take mental inventory of what everyone in his tour looked like.

Across from the man in the blue shirt, a blond woman looked skeptical. “Is it a lot of walking, though? We’re going kayaking in the morning and kind of want to take it easy afterward.”

“Not at all! It’s a pretty short loop, mostly downtown. The whole thing was an hour and a half, tops! It was a nice little tour of the area.”

It was hard to keep the smile off his face as he handed Tony his credit card to pay for dinner.

He had a few business cards in his pocket—he never went anywhere without them.

He could drop by the table on his way out, thank them for the kind words, and try and drum up a little more interest from the people at the table who hadn’t been on the tour yet. Maybe—

“And you’re a history nerd; you’d really like it! The tour guide really seems to know what she’s talking about.”

She.

Tristan froze halfway through signing his receipt. Ah. They weren’t talking about his tour. They were talking about Sophie’s. Shit.

Well, he was definitely going to drop by their table on the way out. Those four needed his business cards. He couldn’t let them think Sophie’s tour was the only one in town.