Greg Weisman - Rain of the Ghosts

Rain pointed frantically at the Dark Man! “What do you mean what’s wrong?!” She sounded hysterical.

Alonso looked behind him. What’s she pointing at?

Iris watched helplessly as Rain pointed at Alonso and screamed, “There! Don’t you see him?!”

Iris held her daughter tightly and tried to calm her, but her own confusion and fear was evident in her voice: “See who? Your father?”

“NO!”

Alonso took a step into the room. He was now standing an inch behind the Dark Man. “Rain, baby, try to calm down.” His voice had the tone of one trying to talk a lunatic down off a ledge.

Now Callahan stood in the doorway. “What’s going on?” he asked.

Without hesitating, Alonso turned and politely but firmly said, “Family business.” Then he closed the door in Callahan’s face.

Out in the hallway, Callahan bridled at the offense. For half a second, he considered busting the damn door down. But then he visibly shook off the impulse. Ain’t my business. Ain’t my problem. He shook his head. Shrugged. And moved off down the stairs.

Alonso had crossed to the bed. Rain’s eyes never left the Dark Man. “You have to see him!” she yelled. “He’s right there!”

And Iris: “Rain, please…”

Suddenly, the Dark Man leapt backward—or rather he seemed to be yanked backward—right through the closed door. His glow faded from the room, leaving it darker than ever.

Rain was breathing hard. Her parents whispered to her soothingly. But she did not feel soothed. She felt incensed. The moment the Dark Man vanished, her fear absolutely melted into anger. Without warning, she bolted away from her concerned parents and rushed the door. Pulled it open with so much force, it slammed into her bedroom wall. No dread. No hesitation. She was out in the corridor, ready to confront him. It. Whatever.

But there was nothing in the well-lit hallway. No one. No Dark Man. Nobody. Now, even the anger deserted her. “He’s gone…”

Alonso was right behind her. He caught her up in his arms, a rag doll. She sounded confused, broken. “He was there… I saw him…”

Rain’s father half-carried her back into her room. The only thing he could think to say was, “It’s been a very hard day.”

Iris helped him get their daughter into bed. “You just need some rest, baby. It’ll all be better in the morning.”

In the lobby, Callahan passed Ms. Vendaval without giving her so much as a glance. She turned her head to watch him go. When the door closed behind him, she smiled. Outside, he walked down the front steps of the Inn and paused to look up in the general direction of Rain’s second-floor window. Then he stalked away. He had things to do.

I thought we had things to do as well. But Maq had taken us off the big island to work the tourists on La Géante. When that had failed, he tried fishing from the Grande Jetée with a hook off his straw hat tied to a long piece of string dug out of his shirt pocket. This also offered little hope of success, since (although I’m not sure he noticed) he wasn’t using any bait. I stared at him impatiently. I felt sure we should get back to San Próspero. But he ignored me, and given my recent track record, I wasn’t about to run off to the Nitaino on my own.

Charlie, however, made two appearances there. When he had returned home, his mother had broken the news about ’Bastian. Immediately, he took off running. He knew what the old man meant to Rain. He pushed himself so hard that his calves started to burn and his lungs ached. His father’s loose wristwatch bounced heavily on his arm. It wasn’t the same thing, but he thought he knew how she was feeling. He thought maybe he could help.

He arrived at the Inn scant minutes after Callahan had left. In fact, he passed the big Australian on the street heading the other way. Neither paid any attention to the other. Charlie burst into the lobby, taking no more notice of Ms. Vendaval than Callahan had. She watched him bound up the front stairs. She smiled again and turned her attention back to the postcard rack. Though she wasn’t likely to make a purchase, there was a picture of the ocean she particularly admired.

Charlie nearly made it to Rain, but Alonso stopped him. He had just left her room, and Charlie practically crashed into him at the head of the stairs. “Whoa. Slow down. Hold it.”

“I came as soon—I wanted to—”

“I know, Charlie. You’re a good friend. But this isn’t the time. She’s very upset. Her mother is with her now. She needs quiet.”

“If I could just…”

“Tomorrow, Charlie. You’ll see her tomorrow. She’ll need you just as much then.”

Alonso held Charlie’s eyes until the boy looked away and nodded. “Okay,” Charlie said. “Can you tell her I was here? Tell her…” There were so many thoughts in his head he couldn’t possibly narrow them down into a coherent message.

But Alonso got the idea. “Of course,” he said and placed a reassuring hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

Charlie turned around, stuffed his hands in his pockets and descended the stairs. Alonso watched him go with no small amount of admiration. He usually took Charlie for granted. The kid had been underfoot for thirteen years. But now this kid was becoming a young man. And Alonso was gratified Rain had a friend she could count on. On the Ghosts, loyalty meant everything.

Charlie passed through the empty lobby and walked slowly home. He remembered his promise to call Miranda on her cell phone to let her know what had happened. He kept it brief, and she didn’t keep him on the line. He ate dinner with his family in silence. Then he went to bed.

His second appearance came later.

Iris sat by Rain’s side, stroking her forehead the way she had done when Rain was a little girl. She thought she might have to stay there all night, but her exhausted daughter drifted off after twenty minutes. Iris quietly left the room, locking the door behind her. Then, despite her own exhaustion and grief, she helped her husband organize her father’s funeral for the next day.

Rain slept soundly until the dreams started again. There was no chase this time, no fear. She was simply standing in the lobby of the Nitaino Inn with Charlie there beside her. “’Bastian’s gone,” she told him.

“I know,” he said.

“I’m going to suffocate here. I can’t breathe now.”

“There’s nothing left to keep either of us here,” he said.

“Just the threat of death. If we don’t finish high school, our parents’ll kill us.”

“Fine. We’ll finish high school. But after that, we leave together.” They were on Miranda’s father’s boat, sleek and quiet, leaving Próspero Bay behind. “Promise me you’ll come with me when I go.”

“I didn’t even know you wanted to go.”

“Promise me,” he said.

Rain wondered where they would go, where they were going…. And who was piloting the boat? She turned. It was Ariel. No, it was Miranda. No, it was Marina Cortez. No. It was Ms. Vendaval. The tall woman smiled at Rain and said, “We’re going to New York. There’s so much to see. So much I want to show you there.”

Rain said, “I don’t even know you.”

“I’m Ms. Vendaval from New York City. What else do you need to know?”

“Why would you help me?”

“I was a girl like you, don’t you think? A little girl from a small town. I felt trapped, so I made a decision to leave. The when didn’t matter. It might have taken me years. The important part was making the decision and sticking by it. I left when I could, as soon as I could. I left my small town for New York City. Now I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m tall and sophisticated. I wear nice clothes, and I’ve seen the world. There’s nothing left for you here. What else do you need to know?”