Beneath Broken Waves: Including In the Spirit (Kotahi Bay Book 2) Read online

  As she took the tray and roller outside to wash, her phone rang loudly, vibrating across the mantelpiece until it hit the box. What the hell? She'd definitely taken that to the kitchen, hadn't she? She reached for the phone, noting that it was Kelly as she swiped to accept the call. "Hey Kels! Where are you?"

  "I'm trying to find this godforsaken town of yours, how the hell do I get there?" Kelly sounded righteously pissed off. She prided herself on being map smart.

  Alyssa stifled a giggle. "I sent you the directions, where are you lost?"

  "Ah, I'm still on Old South Road. State Highway...45, and... I don't know. I can't find the turn off."

  "What do you mean you can't find the turn off? There's a bus stop on the side of the road, and I'm sure there's a sign. Kotahi Bay."

  "Are you sure? I haven't seen a sign in ages, and there is no road by a bus stop, not that I've seen."

  "Umm..." She wracked her brain, trying to think back. Had there been a sign? Surely there was. She didn't remember seeing it, now that she came to think of it, but her eyes had been slightly blurred from the tears, and she'd followed her gut back here. Her other home. Her favourite childhood place. "I don't know. Sorry Kels."

  "Look, I want to be there for you chick, I really do. But I can't spend any more time driving around out here, getting more and more lost. Are you going to be okay if I head back to town?"

  Alyssa slumped to the ground, crossing her legs beneath her. "Yeah, yeah I'll be okay."

  "You don't sound it."

  "I'm just... It's a bit lonely. I miss Gran, and I don't have any friends here. It's been too long."

  "I know. I'm sorry babe. Look, you'll be back in the city soon, right? We'll catch up then."

  "Yeah, I guess. I better go. See ya." Alyssa ended the call before Kelly had a chance to reply. It wasn't her fault that she couldn't find the way to the Bay. Stranger things had happened, and it was getting late.

  But, shit. She hadn't realised just how much she'd been looking forward to Kelly arriving. And now she was alone, with a ghost, and Angie popping up left, right, and centre.

  There was only one thing that would brighten her mood now. With just a week until Christmas it was time to find a tree and decorate it. Gran had a decent sized one, she remembered from the few times she'd managed to spend Christmas here, but it had always been up already, waiting for her to decorate.

  Alyssa scowled at her painting tools, then dragged them outside to the tap and filled the tray with water. She'd sort it out later. Right now, she had better things to do, and the hallway closet was probably her best bet. It was full of coats and old boxes, the smell of camphor was overwhelming—at least there wouldn't be any moth-riddled clothing here.

  And there was a lot of clothing, wasn't there? Old stuff, still in good nick. She pulled it all out, dumping it into piles on the floor, giggling as she did, holding the occasional coat or dress up against her and prancing in front of the hallway mirror.

  She'd always fancied herself the owner of a little shop, right? Well, she had all the stock she needed right here to get started. It might not make her big money in the Bay, but she could take it back to the city and they would lap it up there. No doubt about it. The grin plastered on her face was going to keep her awake tonight.

  And there was the tree, right at the back, its box tattered and torn, formed more of packing tape than cardboard. She dragged it down the hallway and into the lounge. Paint fumes still lingered, but it wasn't bad enough to put her off and she could leave the windows open until late in this heat.

  Alyssa brushed her fingers against the white walls, her fingers coming away dry—perfect painting weather—and then surveyed the room, finally deciding to set the tree up smack bang in the middle, next to the couch, so she didn't have to move it to finish her painting.

  Fake trees were never as nice as real ones, but this would do in a pinch. The branches were old and wilted, but she rammed them into their holes, and built it, pyramid like, until it was whole. A sore excuse for a tree, but nothing that a splash of tinsel and a few decorations wouldn't fix.

  A breeze drifted past and she turned to find its origin, sure that she could hear the faint strands of a Christmas carol on it. But then it was gone, like it hadn't been there at all. Alyssa shivered, suddenly feeling a chill, and moved to close all the windows in the room. Her breath fogged in the air but she turned away, not wanting to acknowledge it or see what traces of spirit might be left on the windows today.

  "Must be time for some music, and food. I think it's a pizza kind of night," she said to herself, and the ghost. Though, why she was announcing her intentions she had no idea.

  She headed for the kitchen, flicked her phone on to 'shuffle' her music collection and plugged it into the mini speaker on her key chain. Sound filled the room, making the floor vibrate a little. Alyssa danced around the table as she headed for the fridge, pulling out the pizza bases and toppings she'd got from the store earlier.

  It took only ten minutes to prepare. She slid it into the pre-heated oven, pouring herself a glass of wine from the cask afterward. She shook it—almost empty. A good excuse to get something a little stronger. She had a feeling she was going to need it to fortify herself for what was happening in the house.

  It might be time to start thinking more seriously about that ritual Gran had told her to do. Surely, being a witch's house, all the ingredients would be here somewhere; maybe in that box under the bed upstairs. If she didn't get on top of it soon the chilled temperatures and frosty messages on the window were going to become something else. What, she had no idea. While she wasn't keen to find out, she knew nowhere near enough about this supposed ghost to make an informed decision. Why had they brought it all the way from the old country? Whatever that meant. Why was it her family's mission to keep it locked away? Why not banish it to heaven, or hell, or whatever it was witches believed in? The next life, maybe.

  What irked her most was knowing that if Gran hadn't given her any of that information, she'd never asked for it herself. That feeling of disappointment when someone you loved and respected turned out to be not as amazing as you thought chewed at her stomach.

  If it was good enough for Gran, shouldn't it be good enough for her? Except that what Gran did wasn't good enough for her, not according to her mother anyway.

  There it was: that lifetime tug between her mother and grandmother. Alyssa loved and respected them both, but had always found it hard to be in between them, and in doing so was forced to forge her own way, a way that wasn't quite one or the other. And maybe not one that was quite her own either. Her little sister had it so much easier. She hadn't ever spent time with Gran, having been born after the proverbial shit hit the fan.

  Ah screw it, she thought, scraping the leftover ham into the cat's dish. Buttons devoured it in moments and brushed up against her leg, begging for more.

  "Sorry buddy, maybe later."

  The oven dinged and Alyssa pulled the door open, slamming it again when she saw the pizza wasn't quite done. She took another slug of wine and grooved a little to the music, though it couldn't push away the conflict that roiled in her belly. There was really only one cure for that.

  Another wine.

  At this rate she was going to end up dependent on alcohol just to stay living in this house.

  "Arg!" She put her glass in the sink and flicked off the oven, leaving the pizza in there to finish its business, before walking back to the lounge. She fished through the box of ornaments and dragged out the tinsel, untangling it from itself. Apparently the last colour scheme Gran had gone for was gold and blue. Alyssa could live with that. For now.

  She pulled out the box of wooden ornaments that she remembered vividly from her childhood: the little drummer boy, the reindeer pulling a sleigh, the angels with their harps and trumpet. So old, so precious. As a child she would sneak out in the mornings and pull them from the tree, playing games with them along the back of the couch until she heard Gran wake, and then she would
rush to return them to their rightful places.

  Her hands moved now, without thought, placing each on the branch it belonged and within minutes the tree was complete. The last time she'd done this Gran had been in the room and Buttons had been a kitten, skittering around after stray bits of tinsel. The cat was too old for that sort of carry-on now though.

  Alyssa sat back on her feet. "Perfect. Though I wish you were here to share it with me, Gran." Her nose itched and she rubbed at it. She wasn't going to cry now though, she had pizza to eat.

  When she was settled on the couch with dinner and wine, she flicked on the TV again, searching through the channels for something to watch. The national soap opera was on, and someone else's drama sounded pretty good right now. She would watch this, eat, and then take a look for her grandmother's witchy stuff and see about giving that ritual a go. Her gaze went to the last wall left to undercoat and she knew that tomorrow she'd have to tackle it. She was not spending her Christmas alone in a room with even one yellow wall.

  And then she saw it—the carved wooden box—back on the mantle. How many hours ago had it been that she'd moved it to the kitchen? She certainly hadn't brought it back here. She knew it for sure this time.

  Alyssa dumped her plate on the couch and rushed to the front door, opening and closing it, acknowledging the firm click it made as it shut. She would have heard if someone had come in, which meant that the only suspect for the magical moving box was the ghost. What was it about that object? This was the second time it had been replaced on the mantle, but her Gran hadn't so much as mentioned it in her recorded message.

  Not that she'd finished watching, maybe there was still something on the end.

  Alyssa scrambled back to the couch, hitting play on the DVD player and sitting back to wait, but the only thing left was static. Nothing to explain the box, or the ghost, or anything more than what had already been said.

  Something was off about this. Alyssa could feel it. Gran wouldn't have left her so unprepared. Not if it was that important to have the ghost contained. Someone had tampered with the DVD. Or maybe someone had convinced Gran that they would be there to help Alyssa do what she needed to do. A certain friend, perhaps, who knew Gran well. Who wanted the very same box that kept reappearing on the mantle.

  Angela. Alyssa had known there was something dodgy going on there, and now she had an idea what.

  Well, at least one mystery had been solved. This box was the object that bound the ghost. She'd watched enough scary movies to know how these things worked, and obviously the ghost was not interested in being removed from the house. It had enough power to move the object around, to chill the air and leave impressions on the windows. But that was it. No threats, not yet, no danger to her.

  Perhaps Gran had been wrong about the ghost.

  If only she knew more, could find out the name of it, or some small clue that would help her research it on the web. But she only had a mystery, and did she really want to run the risk of the ghost getting stronger? Because it could just be biding its time until it was powerful enough to hurt her.

  Ug. Her head hurt and it was too late in the day for this kind of thinking. She had a tree, and wine, and all the time in the world. Surely another night wouldn't matter.

  She moved back to the couch, taking the box with her, running her hands over the intricate carvings before opening the lid.

  There was nothing inside, which was disappointing. She wasn't sure what she expected, but something more than musty air. She sank back on the couch, reaching for her wine as she watched the lights on the tree twinkle in the growing darkness. Before long her eyelids began to sag and she forced herself to head upstairs.

  Tonight, she would sleep in Gran's room, because now that she knew the ghost could be anywhere, there was no point getting a sore neck from another night on the couch. She was going to be achy enough from all the painting.

  "I just wish there was someone to talk to!" she called out loudly. Not that she wanted a response, but damn it, even a ghost to talk to right now would be better than nothing. "I'm going to bed, by the way. Don't keep me up."

  Buttons looked at Alyssa indignantly as she removed him from her lap, but he soon forgave her, dropping to the floor to follow.

  She took the box with her, but left her wine by the couch. She'd clean it up in the morning and to hell with those memories of Gran telling her that the job is much easier if you tidy when the mess is made. To hell with Gran full stop. Grief had taken a backseat right now, and all she could feel was irritation that the woman had just dumped a ghost on her lap and thought she was going to willingly deal with it, like an obedient little girl.

  No wonder Alyssa's mother had cut ties. All witchiness aside, it was a major burden to have unwanted expectations dumped on your shoulders. Alyssa didn't like it at all. Hadn't that been why she'd moved out of home at sixteen? Might not have been the best decision, being that she was still working in dead end jobs. But that load of vintage gear in the hallway and the pile of goods now in the garage was going to change that.

  She could feel the figures in her bank account racking up and that thought took her into sleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Alyssa woke in the night to a thump from the kitchen beneath her. Actually, it sounded a little like a chair being dragged across the wooden floor. A weird scraping that sent shivers down her spine.

  Fuck. She should have done that spell. She should have just bloody well done it.

  She contemplated dragging the covers over her head and ignoring the sound, but it was louder now, moving from the kitchen down the hall toward the lounge. The slow drag of something hard against the floor. Oh shit. Next there would be rattling chains and mournful wailing to go along with it.

  No, dammit. This was her house now and she wasn't going to let a ghost take over—even if it had been her negligence that had allowed it to happen. She got out of bed and shoved her feet into slippers. There was no chill in the air, not like the last few times. She wished for a baseball bat or something, though what good that would do against a spirit...

  "I can hear you!" Alyssa shouted, slamming open the door of the bedroom. "I'm not afraid, do you hear me? I'm not scared of you!"

  As she charged down the stairs there was an almighty crash from the lounge and she rounded the corner to see her tree, toppled over, a massacre of tinsel and ornaments, strewn across the room, and the windows cast wide letting a cool night breeze flow through.

  "You asshole!" Alyssa balled her fists up, wanting something to punch. Instead she crossed the lounge and slammed the windows shut, pulling the curtains closed and turning to survey the damage.

  She dropped to her knees and drew the little wooden drummer boy from the wreckage. One of his drumsticks was gone, splintered at his hand. Fat tears dripped down her cheeks, tumbling down her chest as she clutched the old figurine tight.

  "I'm sorry, Gran. I never meant for this to happen. I should have listened." A sob lurched out of her throat and she dropped the ornament, flinging herself on the couch. She lay there for a few minutes until she noticed the chill filling to the room. "What the hell do you want now? Haven't you done enough for one night?"

  The chill turned arctic and she drew the couch blanket around her. It still smelled like Gran; the scent comforted her but didn't stave off the fear.

  The icy air moved like fingers up her leg, her arm, through her hair almost like it was... comforting her? What the hell? She sat upright, shrugging as if it would dislodge the spirit fingers.

  "I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but I'm going to destroy you. Do you know that?"

  She heard another scrape then, like fingers on glass, and she rushed to the window, pulling the curtains aside to see what message the ghost had left for her now. Streetlight came through the pane, making the words very clear.

  It was not me.

  "What do you mean, it wasn't you? Who the hell else could it be?" Alyssa waited, but there were no further sounds, no
more messages appearing on the window. She reached out, her fingers trailing against the chilly glass, erasing the ghost's words.

  Her hands shook as she withdrew them, the cold from the window seeping through her skin. They hadn't been that cold when she'd shut them before. So perhaps the ghost wasn't lying, maybe there was someone else playing tricks on her to get her to think she was being haunted.

  But to what end? She wasn't going to run—but perhaps the haunter didn't know that. Maybe they were relying on her being a scared little girl who wasn't invested enough in the property to stick around.

  She scraped the tinsel from the floor, carrying an armful through the kitchen and out the back door to the bin. Once she'd picked the bits off her PJs she turned to survey the backyard. Moonlight spilled down through the tree branches revealing Buttons in the grass.

  "Hey boy, come here. What are you doing outside you old fool? I thought you were still in bed." The cat didn't budge and her stomach turned. "Buttons?"

  She moved slowly, hoping that he'd get up, or meow. Anything. But by the time she was a few feet away she knew that he was dead. She knelt beside him and reached out to stroke his limp body, letting tears fall freely, landing on his soft fur; now matted with blood.

  "Oh boy, I am so sorry. I'm so, so, sorry. You didn't deserve this." Alyssa couldn't bring herself to lift him from the grass. His body was still warm, despite the lack of life in him. He'd been her only companion since she'd arrived in the Bay, and now he was gone and she was truly alone.

  Well, almost.

  Whoever had done this was a vicious person, someone who would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. It was certainly no ghost.

  Bloody Angela. It had to be her. That woman was here every day, being mortified at the changes, swearing that Constance would roll over in her grave if she could see what Alyssa was doing to the place. It seemed like she not only wanted Gran's ghost, but her house as well.