EXCERPT

 ENGRAVE DANGER

A Charm Island Mystery - Book One

CHAPTER ONE

As I waited at the ferry terminal, where my ride to Charm Island lurked in the Pacific waters, I hugged myself, and it wasn’t because of the crisp morning air but from nerves. My return would make several laps around the gossip circuit by suppertime, and I hoped to make it home without running into someone I knew from my past life. Or, more importantly, the afterlife.

It was the first departure of the day, and dawn was dragging its feet. The heavy cloud cover didn’t help either. At least the gloom concealed me from the familiar faces already boarding. I stood back and waited until the deckhands scrambled and the ship looked ready to cast off.

Struggling into the straps of my enormous backpack, I marched across the passenger walkway. A man in a captain’s hat stood ramrod straight by the entrance. He greeted me with a nod and held out his hand for my ticket.

I hesitated. But what choice did I have? I was there to help Dad recover from his accident. Nothing was more important. Not my past, my shame, or my fear of what waited for me at the end of the ferry ride. He’d get better eventually, then I’d return to Europe. Or maybe I’d explore South America. Any place that wasn’t Charm Island, because it was better off without me.

“Last call for passengers!” The wiry deckhand threw me an impatient look from behind his shaggy hair. “Coming aboard? Or are you planning to swim?”

The captain’s weathered skin wrinkled with a smile as he gestured for my ticket again. He was probably used to the deckhand’s snarky attitude.

I pulled out my phone and brought up the one-way ticket for the old captain to scan. Head tilted, he stared at the screen with a hole punch in his hand. A few awkward seconds passed before I took in the mutton chops blending with his handlebar mustache and realized my mistake: he’d died long before electronic tickets were a thing. Or cell phones, for that matter. Like a reluctant retiree, he’d not been ready to leave his post, even as a ghost.

I berated myself for not noticing before. In the five years since my curse had begun, I’d become pretty good at identifying lingering spirits and subsequently avoiding them. However, dim light always made it trickier.

The deckhand cleared his throat and jiggled the handheld scanner. “You need to hold it out for me to actually scan it.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Sorry. I was just taking a video.”

Cheeks burning, I pretended to record the scenic car ramp and rusty ship hull before letting him scan my phone. Ignoring his probing look, I boarded the ferry.

Only two vehicles were parked on board. One of them was a pearl-colored luxury SUV. Nice ride for something that would be lucky to rack up a thousand miles a year on Charm Island. Most people didn’t even own a car, since everything in town was within walking distance. A vehicle like that was more of an expensive lawn ornament to announce your status than a mode of transport.

I’d barely stowed my backpack on the luggage rack before a horn blast reverberated through the air. The metal deck juddered beneath me as the engine rumbled to life. Chest tightening, I turned back to the land slowly slipping away and resisted the urge to jump overboard.

As the vessel departed without its old captain, he shouted and appeared tempted to swim after us. Considering the gestures he was making, I was glad I couldn’t hear spirits. He didn’t dive in, of course. Ghosts hated water. Since they couldn’t affect their surroundings, I assumed that applied to the doggy paddle, so maybe they’d sink right to the bottom and remain stuck there like a rock.

I shuddered at the idea, yet I was grateful for this quirk. Their fear of water was the reason I’d been able to leave my past behind five years ago.

After turning my back on the man doomed to forevermore miss the boat, literally and metaphorically, I climbed the stairs to the second deck. The clouds sagging with moisture finally sprang a leak, and the wind hurled a light drizzle against my cheeks like tiny daggers.

I slipped on my jacket hood and thought about waiting it out to avoid going inside. As the saying went, if you don’t like the weather along the Lunar Coast, wait five minutes. But it didn’t look as though it would let up anytime soon, and I’d be soaked by the end of the trip. Sighing, I opened the metal door to the covered area and snuck inside.

A handful of passengers occupied the rows of colorful plastic chairs. Once the weather warmed and the tourists took over the island, the space would be standing room only. For now, it was quiet enough that I might make the journey unnoticed. That’s when a red peacoat over zebra-print leggings caught my eye, and I recognized the outfit’s owner as Lucy Litton, the town busybody-turned-reporter.

The blond bombshell sat in the corner, angled to keep one eye on the goings-on around her and the other on a fashion magazine. Her sense of style still matched her larger-than-life personality—or maybe it was just larger than what our sleepy town was used to. In high school, we’d all thought she’d end up in Hollywood, hosting one of those celebrity-gossip TV shows, but she’d stuck around the island to work at the local newspaper, The Siren.

Before she noticed me, I adjusted my hood to cover my telltale red hair and took a seat at the back. I’d barely settled in when the door to the outer deck opened, and a gust of cold air rushed over me. Shivering, I automatically glanced up and wished I hadn’t.

My would-have-been father-in-law swept a calculating gaze over the deck’s occupants until it landed on me. His presence likely explained the overpriced SUV on the lower deck. I regretted not jumping overboard when I’d had the chance. However, after Quinton Abernathy did a double take my way, his expression twisted into one that said he’d happily rectify that for me.

He ran a hand over his rain-dampened hair and strode my way. “Violet, you’re back.”

I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting. A “nice to see you.” A “how have you been?” At least his response was a step up from “I wish you would have died in the accident,” which was the last thing he’d said to me before I’d left. So this was progress.

I stood so he couldn’t look down his long, straight nose at me. “Hello, Mr. Abernathy. It’s been a long time.”

“That’s Mayor Abernathy, if you don’t mind. We didn’t think you were going to return.” His tone made it sound like they’d hoped I wouldn’t.

Digging my nails into my palms, I smiled. “The island is still my home. I’m back because my father broke his arm a few days ago, and he needs help running the family business.”

He smirked. “How is his little bauble shop?”

My smile faltered at the obvious slight. He knew perfectly well that we sold high-end jewelry. “Good, actually. We’ve recently started selling pieces I’ve secured from throughout Europe.” I tried to make it sound highly exclusive.

Abernathy’s lip curled. “As they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” He gave me the once-over.

Yeah, I got it. I was the trash.

“Well, I hope your business won’t keep you in town for long. I wish your father a speedy recovery.”

No doubt his concern was less about Dad and more about when I’d be on my way. Finished with the pleasantries, he brushed past me.

Part of me wanted to live the rest of my days in Hope City just to spite him and his wife. But our meeting probably wasn’t a nostalgic experience for him either. After all, if it hadn’t been for me, his son Nolan would still be alive. Sure, I hadn’t been the one to tamper with his car before our accident—not that anybody believed my recounting of how it had lost control. Whoever had done that was still running around, a free person. However, it was because of me that we were even on the road that night, rounding a treacherous corner.

I was about to drop back into my seat when I caught Lucy’s laser focus on me, drawn by the whiff of drama in the air. Before she could pounce, I made a break for the exit.

The second I shoved open the metal door, cool droplets pelted my skin. The weather hadn’t improved. Sheets of rain rippled in the wind gusts, while the muted light and fog blended the dreary sky and dark waters into one. And yet I was determined to suffer through the rest of the journey outside.

Following the walkway around, I searched for a covering or alcove. I would have even settled for a restroom. When I drew closer to the ship’s bow, I found a nook beneath a set of stairs and took cover there. Pulling my jacket tighter around me, I leaned back against the wall.

My eyelids drooped. I’d left Italy the morning before—or would it be the night before?—and I was going on thirty-six hours of travel. All I wanted to do was get home, hug my dad, and crash.

Just as I dozed off, I heard yelling on the deck above me.

“We’re not done talking!”

The male voice growled with anger, but I recognized it like I’d recognize my own. It had spoken a million words to me in friendship and comfort, whispered countless secrets and inside jokes. The last time I’d heard it, though, the night before I was to wed his best friend, it had spoken of love. For me.

The voice belonged to Max Nicolas.

CHAPTER TWO

Two pairs of footsteps thudded down the stairs above my hiding spot until my old friend Max and the deckhand with the floppy hair came into view. Curious, I peered between a gap in the metal steps.

The deckhand sneered. “You can’t come here and harass me while I’m at work. We’ll talk about this tonight.”

Max shoved him against the wall. “You’ve been avoiding me, so we’ll talk about this now.”

“Okay, okay.” The deckhand shrank as though he wished the wall would open up and swallow him. “I guess I can spare a minute.”

Max’s aggression surprised me, making me even more nervous about seeing him again. I stayed put, hoping the men were just passing by. Wide-eyed, I drank in the lines of my old friend’s vexed profile, with his square jaw and long, would-be straight nose that had healed a bit crooked after a fight in our senior year.

Because of his size, other guys had always picked fights with him to prove how tough they were. Spoiler alert: they weren’t. However, while Max was as fierce as a bear when he needed to be, he reminded me of the cuddly, stuffed kind deep down. Watching him now, though, it seemed the years had replaced some of that stuffing with grit.

Max crossed his arms. “We had a deal, Christian. What happened?”

The wiry man tried to stand tall even while cowering. “What do you mean? I still have two weeks to pay you.”

“That was before you decided to leave the island.” Max spoke calmly, but it was almost more intimidating that way. “Don’t bother denying it. It’s a small town, and I’ve seen the ads for your furniture posted around the promenade. You’re going to pay me before you leave, or I will hunt you down.”

Christian’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “You’ll get your money in five days.”

“Three.”

“All right. Three.” He straightened his collar. “Now, let me get back to work. If you get me fired, you won’t see any money.”

“We’ll hammer out the details tonight.” Max pointed a warning finger at him before sauntering away.

Christian raked his fingers through his hair, only for it to flop back in front of his eyes. After a scan for witnesses, he stalked down the walkway with a measured pace that ensured he wouldn’t catch up to Max.

Feeling like a sitting duck, I moved to leave my hiding spot then caught zebra print out of the corner of my eye and froze. Lucy slunk by and peeked around the corner where the shakedown had occurred. Finding the coast clear, she snuck after the two men.

Had she been searching for me when she’d stumbled onto that scene? Hopefully, the scent of fresh blood in the air would throw her off my track. In the meantime, I needed to find a quieter place to hide.

I slipped out of my nook and tiptoed up the staircase the men had descended. It led to an open deck, but at least the rain had stopped. From this height, I had a three-sixty view of the ferry and the dark waters of Prosper Strait. I watched the undulating waves as I considered what I’d just witnessed.

The tough-guy persona wasn’t a new thing for Max, but I understood him enough to tell he’d been serious. What had happened to my teddy bear?

I gripped the metal railing. Maybe I looked like I was about to crawl over and go for a swim, because a man nearby interrupted my racing thoughts.

“You all right?”

Startled, I spun toward him. Who was it now?

A middle-aged man in a navy rain jacket leaned against the opposite railing. He wore a captain’s hat, and I assumed he was the current one this time. I looked past the three-day scruff on his jaw. Thankfully, I didn’t recognize him.

“I’m fine,” I lied. For the first time, I noticed the enclosed cabin with tinted windows. It must have been the captain’s bridge. “Is it okay that I’m up here?”

“Usually, it’s just me and the helmsman allowed. Why? Want a better seat to watch the show from?” His mouth twisted with a wry smirk.

I blinked. He meant the fight. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was looking for some peace and quiet.”

His chuckle was a rich rumble, not unlike the hum of the engine. “I don’t blame you. I’m sick and tired of those two bickering on my ship as if it’s poker night.”

“Does it happen often?” I asked, wondering more about Max than Christian.

“More often than I’d like. I run a tight ship, so nothing happens without me knowing.”

Apparently, that applied to spotting eavesdroppers too.

He took off his hat and scratched his head with the brim before replacing it. “That deckhand causes more trouble than he’s worth sometimes. But it’s hard to find good workers.”

Ahead of us, a land mass blanketed in old-growth forest emerged from the water like a raw emerald. Charm Island. The mountain range at its center dipped and swelled, emulating the voluptuous contours of a woman lying on her side. While it probably had an official name, everyone called her Sleeping Beauty.

Home sweet home.

I thrust my chin at our destination. “Speaking of working, shouldn’t you be steering the boat?”

“I have a helmsman for that. But we’ll be arriving soon, so I’ll leave you to your peace and quiet. Enjoy your time on the island.” On his way inside the bridge, he gestured toward the front of the deck. “The view is better from over there.”

“Thanks.”

He disappeared inside, and I followed his suggestion. He’d been right about the view. It was the best seat in the house to survey the colorfully painted shops and restaurants clinging to the cliffs. The red-and-white lighthouse perched on the rocks still reminded me of a stick of candy.

Two great headlands jutted out into the sea, protective arms creating a natural harbor on either side of Hope City. Well, “city” was a stretch. It was technically a village. Back when it was first established, it had been called a city to trick people into moving there. It didn’t work, but the name stuck.

A mysterious air hung about the place, one I’d never noticed during all my years growing up there. Seeing it now, with fresh eyes, conjured questions I’d been suppressing for some time. Questions about the existence of magic and the beings who might wield it. If such things were real, I supposed they would be hidden in a place like Charm Island. But that was a big “if,” because I didn’t want to believe it. Ghosts were enough for me, thanks.

The captain—or the helmsman—pulled into the ferry slip, and I eyed the pier running next to it, where two men waited for the ship’s arrival. Despite the distance, there was no mistaking the man in the three-piece suit with perfectly styled honey-colored hair. My fiancé.

As though Nolan sensed me, his gaze locked on mine. I was slapped by a sense of déjà vu. He stood in the exact spot I’d left him, like he hadn’t moved since the day I’d run away five years ago. Thanks to the cloud cover, he looked as alive and handsome as he had the night of our rehearsal dinner. The night he’d died.

While enough time had gone by that I didn’t burst into tears at the sight of him, I felt the past settle heavily onto my shoulders. I tore my focus away from him, more eager than ever to get home. After racing down to the lower deck, I grabbed my backpack and beelined it for the passenger gate, only to find it still locked, the ship not fully secured yet.

Footsteps clanged on the metal stairs from the enclosed deck, and passengers lined up behind me. I kept my eyes trained forward, hoping no one would recognize me. But it wasn’t long before my name rose above the chatter.

And so the gossip begins.

What had I been thinking? I should have held back until everyone else had disembarked. Shifting from foot to foot, I waited for the deckhands to let us off.

Unable to resist, I checked the pier again. Nolan was watching me. Surely, he didn’t expect me to stop and greet him. Facing my dead fiancé on my first day back wasn’t on my itinerary. While it felt cruel to ignore him, I couldn’t hear ghosts anyway, and I wasn’t even sure they understood me. Besides, talking to thin air in front of people would only kick up a torrent of rumors.

Not far from Nolan, another man waited to meet someone. Or else he was just early for the next departure. Gloved hands shoved into the pockets of his mustard-yellow work jacket, he scowled at the water below.

I followed his gaze to where bits of garbage littered the water’s surface: plastic bottles, a potato chip bag, beer cans, and something else… fabric.

My name pierced the air again, louder this time. “Violet?” It was Max.

I pretended not to hear over the water lapping and engine idling. Partly because I wasn’t ready to face him yet. I needed time, rest, and a toothbrush. But more importantly, I was fixated on the fabric in the water.

A shirt? No. A jacket, like the one the grumpy man on the pier wore. As I continued to stare, I spotted two gloves floating on either side of it. A pair of boots bobbed in the water, completing the morbid outfit.

Fingers snapped in front of my face, dragging my attention back. Christian glared at me like I was simple. “You can go now.”

People jostled impatiently behind me, but I remained rooted to the spot. With a shaking finger, I pointed at the water.

“Is that…?”

Before I could finish the sentence, my mind filled in the rest of the image. A pair of jeans nearly blended into the water, and tendrils of dark hair fanned out over the jacket’s collar.

A woman behind me gasped. “Someone’s in the water. Call an ambulance!”

But I already knew it was too late to save him, because the grumpy man on the pier wasn’t there to meet the ferry. He was the ghost of the man floating in the water, waiting to meet his maker.