Confessions of a Pirate Ghost (Gambling Ghosts Series Book 3) by Jo-Ann Carson

Author:Jo-Ann Carson [Carson, Jo-Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780994955654
Publisher: JRT Publications
Published: 2017-04-02T16:00:00+00:00

8

The Break In

“Sailors tell stories, Pirates make legends.” (source unknown)

Ghosts communicate with one another easily on the human plane and even more easily on their ghostly plane. With little else to do, they gossip and the news passes from one to another faster than water running through a drain.

Three Sheets had sent out a warning to the teahouse regulars that they would have unwanted company tonight, so it was no surprise when they all arrived at seven o’clock instead of eleven forty-five. Harley was upstairs sketching, oblivious to their maneuvers.

The same four thugs Three Sheets had watched earlier in the day arrived just after dark. Two went around back and stood guard by the door in case anyone came out, while the two he had haunted earlier tried the front door.

“Fuckin’ hell,” said Giovanni when he touched the door knob. “It still won’t turn.”

“You want to use the crowbar?” said the blond.

“Let’s try the windows towards the back. We don’t need anyone seeing us.” They went to the poker-room window, the farthest from the street.

The ghosts inside the house laughed as they watched the Mob guys approach. When Hulk tried to open the window and found it stiff, Rufus, a biker ghost, opened it for him.

“Did you see that?” said the Hulk.

Giovanni grunted.

“It opened on its own and there’s a light on in there. Can you see anyone?”

“Nope, but it’s not easy to see from here. You need to get inside.”

“Me? I don’t get paid enough for this,” said the blond. “I wanna go home.”

“It’s just a house with an open window, stupid. Nothin’ to be scared of.” Giovanni pushed the blond forward. “You first.” When the guy didn’t move, Giovanni added. “You know you gotta do this, right?”

The blond grunted. After a minute of staring at his toes he said. “Okay.” He pulled himself up to the window ledge, which was at the height of his shoulders, and crawled into the room.

The ghosts waited in silence.

Giovanni followed a minute later.

They stood beside each other inside the poker room lit by a single candle.

“See, nothin’ to be scared of,” said the Italian.

The window slammed shut with a bang. The door slammed shut next.

Rufus, the biker-ghost, snickered. “You boys came to the wrong house.”

The blonde turned and headed for the window, but he ran right through Eric the Viking. The Hulk screamed. “Jesus, tits and God America, something’s touching me. Urrgh. It’s deadly cold and wet.”

“And angry,” said Eric in a warrior’s voice of doom. “I want vengeance.”

Three Sheets shimmered into view and with the flick of his fingertips lit a second candle. In the middle of the room three other spirits shimmered into view: Headless Joe, a French peasant from the time of the revolution, held his severed head oozing blood in his arms, Rufus the biker with a bullet hole between his eyes; and Leroy the former cop in his full 1920’s New York City uniform with a knife protruding from the left of his chest. Blocking the door stood Eric the Viking with a triumphant warrior’s grin and a battle-axe in his hand.

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