A Spirited Gift

“A pirate?” Shayla giggled and pranced around like a teenager. “How exciting!”

“Shayla—”

“Pleasure to meet you, beautiful lady.” Rafe sketched an elegant bow to her. “Is that a taste of the old spirits, from the islands, I feel about you? I had a friend—a very good friend—from Barbados who knew the spirits well. She was sweet and dark as good rum, like you, wench. A lovely prize for the taking.”

I was getting impatient with this mutual admiration society. “All of this is very nice, but can we get rid of him or not?”

“He’s amazing,” Shayla said. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t want to keep him. He could help you identify old stuff that you find.”

“He’s not a puppy,” I reminded her, even though I was glad she was able to see and hear him too. “And I don’t want him hanging around.”

Shayla walked around him with her eyes closed and presumably her mojo working. “I’m not sure,” she said finally. “We can try. But blood ties are strong.”

“Now wait a minute,” Rafe interrupted. “I have a valid reason for being here. This isn’t a lark for me, ladies. I need a relation to help me clear my name.”

“Clear your name?” I laughed. “Clear it of what? Everyone knows you did terrible things. You were hanged as a pirate because of them.”

“I was,” he agreed. “But I wasn’t a pirate when that unfortunate event took place. And I had papers of pardon from the governor himself.”

I thought about what Mark Samson had said about Rafe. Maybe he was right. But having a large pirate ghost tag along with me everywhere I went wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time. There had to be another way.

“Let’s say you’re telling the truth,” I said. “How about you go back to your grave and I look into it for you.”

“Why would I take yer word for what you’ll do when you are so eager to get rid of me? I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“Because otherwise Shayla will make you go away for good and you might never get your name cleared.” Although what difference that would make after all these years was beyond me. “At least if I promise to investigate the history of your death, you have a shot.”

He stroked his chin. “I don’t think so. Not that I want to be here, but this is important to me. And your friend here doesn’t seem too sure she can get rid of me at all. Besides, I can help you find who murdered the woman at the old house. Ye need me too, girl.”

“We don’t know yet if she was murdered at all,” I told him. “But thanks for the offer.”

“I know,” he assured me. “I can smell it a league away.”

“I thought you said that was an accident, Dae?” Shayla asked.

“It probably was an accident. She shouldn’t have been out there during the storm.”

“An accident,” Rafe scoffed. “If it was an accident, then I don’t know gold from dross.”

“Okay. Who killed her?” I asked the pirate ghost.

“That I don’t know—but I could be helpful in the search for the devil who done the deed,” he said with great confidence. “It’s the smell of blood. T’would be all over him.”

I thought about his offer. Maybe he knew something the rest of us didn’t. He was a ghost, and ghosts were supposed to know things—see things we couldn’t from the other side. And Shayla seemed really uncertain about getting rid of him.

And I supposed I could look into the matter of his history, since Mark had already said much the same thing. The usual Duck history must be missing some facts if suddenly Rafe Masterson was the wronged party in his hanging.

I still didn’t believe he was really related to me. But it could prove interesting finding out for sure and possibly rewriting part of that Duck history.

“All right,” I agreed finally. “I’ll help you, and you can help me. But we need some ground rules.”

“I don’t take to rules well,” he growled, dark eyes fierce.

“That’s your choice.” I smiled at Shayla. “Any time you want to get rid of him—”

“All right! All right! You made your case.” He paced about one inch above the floor. “Ye drive a hard bargain, girl, and that’s no lie. What do you want of me?”

“You stay out of my private life—no standing around while I’m sleeping or hanging out in the bathroom for any reason with me. You have to keep your distance. And no starting up conversations or making demands while I’m with people who might think I’m crazy talking to you.”

He agreed. “Done and done. You must be my own flesh and blood to be so hard on a man. That must be why ye aren’t wed at such an old age. No man wants you, I warrant.”

I ignored the backhanded compliment. “Deal?”

He spit on his hand and reached it toward me. “Deal—and no going back on it.”

Lucky for me he wasn’t real enough to have spit that I could touch. “Good. You can start by leaving right now and going wherever it is you go when you disappear.”

He frowned and kind of growled at me again, but he disappeared.

“He’s gone,” Shayla said. “Wow! What a spirit! You’re so lucky to have him as an ancestor.”

“Thanks.” I cleaned up my tea spill. “No telling what I just agreed to.”