Rain of the Ghosts Read Online Free Page B

“We serve breakfast from seven to ten.”
    Callahan filled the doorway. His eyes looked past Iris to Rain, who glanced over her shoulder at him, before pulling out her key and unlocking her room. Iris didn’t notice. She was in hostess mode. “Please, let me know if there’s anything I can do to make your stay a pleasant one.”
    Callahan’s brow furrowed. “Get back to you on that,” he said.
    Rain shuddered involuntarily. Iris didn’t see it but somehow sensed it and turned toward her daughter. Rain smiled, shrugged at her mother and entered her room, closing—and locking—the door behind her. There was no doubt about it. This Callahan guy gave her the creeps in a major way.
    But he didn’t occupy her mind for long. She paused in front of the dresser mirror to admire her new armband. She had to admit it did look pretty cool around her biceps. “I’m hip,” she said aloud. She giggled. Then she carefully removed it from her arm and placed it on the nightstand. It was late, and she was going waterskiing in the morning. She quickly got ready for bed and turned out the light.
    Soon the steady beat of the rain had lulled her to sleep. While outside, Maq and I stood vigil in the downpour, all through the night.

CHAPTER FOUR
    THE GHOSTS
    Somewhere along the line, I’d been dubbed “Opie.” It wasn’t my real name, of course, but I’d gotten used to it, and at any rate I wasn’t one to complain. I spent most of my time with an old beach bum that the locals knew as “Maq” (though that wasn’t his true name either). I was Maq’s best friend, and he was mine. We disagreed sometimes, but considering we were never too sure where our next meal was coming from, we got along just fine.
    Maq and I know things.
    Lately, he’s grown a bit scattered, but Maq can see into the future. No joke. He knew we’d find lunch behind the Versailles Hotel, and that night he had us standing outside the Nitaino for Rain’s reawakening before she even got to the kitchen. When the snake’s golden glow lit up her eyes, we could both feel it from the street—and despite the weather, it warmed us to our bones.
    I couldn’t see the future. I could guess at it like anyone. And I had a more-than-decent memory for the past. But my real talent was the present. I knew what was happening—wherever it was happening—now. I knew what was being done. I knew what was being said. I even knew what was being thought. It came in handy, given my line of work, but it’s not nearly as much fun as it sounds.
    Still, that’s why Maq and I made such a great team. We complemented each other. I handled the here and now; he handled the yet to come. Had to be that way. He was (to say the least) a bit vague on the present.
    At present, Rain was dreaming. All through the night, she had slept the sleep of the dead. But just before sunrise, rapidly behind closed lids, her eyes began to track back and forth in her skull. She was alone on cobblestone streets. Surrounded by shadows seeking to hem her in. She ran, breathing hard, frightened. Bernie Cohen blocked her course. She tried to slip past, but his garish shirt seemed to swell up to fill the lane, and his increasing bulk forced her away. She stumbled backward, turned, tripped, fell to her knees. Tourists loomed above her. Bernie Cohen, Maude Cohen, Rebecca Sawyer and the shadows of a hundred others she had served breakfast to at the Inn, had carried bait for on the boat.
    ’Bastian called out to her. Her parents, too. She could barely get her legs and arms to move; she crawled as if through Sycorax Honey, desperate to reach her family. ’Bastian pointed. The armband lay on the ground before her, shining gold. The Key! Just out of reach. She struggled forward, aware she was being pursued. She glanced back over her shoulder. Callahan! Gaining on her with every lightning strike. Gaining; he would catch her. She found her hand grasping the armband. She turned to look. The two golden snakes were wrapped