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  Savannah’s Ghost Tale

  Copyright © 2011 by Kali Willows

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-132-3

  Cover art by Dara England

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

  Look for us online at:

  www.decadentpublishing.com

  Savannah’s Ghost Tale

  Kali Willows

  A 1 Night Stand Story

  ~DEDICATION~

  To those who have loved and lost and had the courage to love again; hold on to your faith and love will prevail.

  Chapter One

  Orgasmic groans filled the air. “Oh my God, right there, wait—no—I don’t it like there.”

  “Be patient. It has to hurt before it gets better. I promise, I’ll be gentler. Just let me finish. I’m getting close. I can feel it.”

  “No, hold on, that hurts my—oh yeah, now you’ve got it.”

  “Good Lord, Vannah, will you keep it down over there? I’m trying to enjoy myself, too.” Her sister’s annoyed tone cut through the soft background music.

  “Sorry, Stacia, no one has done this to me such in a long time. I’ll try to shut up. It just feels so—oh—ah….” Vannah buried her face into the padded circle headrest.

  “When was the last time you had a deep muscle massage, Ms. Teale?” The petite brunette masseuse tucked the sheet over Vannah’s shoulder and moved to the other side.

  “It’s been so long I don’t remember, Nadia, but you’re doing great. Don’t stop, please?”

  “So, when is the big date?” Stacia’s sly voice contracted Vannah’s muscles again.

  “Dammit, Stacia.”

  Taunting laughter from across the room resonated through her as she cringed under the painful kneading of her shoulder. While the visit to the hotel’s luxurious spa had come with their stay, Vannah began to wish she’d just soaked in the huge bathtub in her room.

  “Okay Nadia, I think that’s as good as it’s gonna get for me. Thank you.” At her sharp tone, the woman packed up in a rush with shaky hands and excused herself.

  Stacia sighed. “Justine, thank you so much. We have to get ready for the Ghost Walk tour soon.” Sitting up, she secured her towel and hopped off the massage table, collecting her bag and retrieving a few bills from her wallet. “Please share this with Nadia; we both appreciate the great pampering.”

  “As you wish, Mrs. Leonard.” The older, more seasoned masseuse accepted the cash and left the room.

  “Well that was rude.” Stacia spun around after the door closed, shooting a fiery glare at Vannah.

  “I’m sorry, but for the love of God, do you have to broadcast that I’m getting laid? Shit.” She stormed behind the mahogany paneled privacy screen. The flaring heat of her cheeks was unbearable. With a tense jaw, she scrambled into her clothing.

  “My word, Vannah, you are way too sensitive about this. No one knows why you’re here. People stay at hotels for all kinds of reasons. Your behavior, however, may send a clue or two about your agenda.”

  “What behavior?” She tugged her lace camisole over her head, wincing at the sound of a thread popping in the delicate pink garment.

  “You know what I mean. You’re snapping and barking at anyone who tries to show you some good old Southern hospitality.”

  “I’m not snapping at anyone.” Jamming her pedicured foot into her sandal, she cringed as the heel strap began to tear.

  “Oh yeah? What about the bellhop?”

  “He grabbed my hand.”

  “He was collecting your suitcase.” A low, admonishing tone took over Stacia’s words.

  “Well he didn’t have to rip it from me.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Okay, and the desk clerk? I smiled at him when we checked in.”

  “You clenched your teeth and reprimanded him for calling you madam.”

  “Well—” Flustered, she searched her brain for an excuse for her out-of-character rudeness. “They shouldn’t be allowed to call anyone under eighty years old madam.”

  “Okay, you’re either getting hungry or need to get plastered.” Stacia surveyed herself in the mirror, wearing her new, blue summer dress and sandals, running her brush through her long, blonde locks—perfectly lovely as always.

  Vannah dropped into the posh ivory sling back chair behind her.

  Stacia’s penetrating gaze softened as she pulled a stool close. Vannah caught the reflection of her blotchy red eyes and swollen upper lip in the bronzed mirror on the wall. Her sister was a carbon copy of herself, the same flaxen curls trailing down her chest, and the gold flecks within the chestnut brown of her almond shaped eyes. They could easily pass for twins, although Vannah was two years younger. But Stacia always seemed happy, her full lips curled up into a sensational smile, her face alight with a youthful glow. Vannah saw a dark, strained, lesser version of her stunning sister in her own reflection.

  “Honey, it’s been three years—it’s not unfaithfulness, it’s moving on with your life in the easiest way possible.” Stacia’s calm tones did not soothe her this time.

  “Easiest?”

  “You, my darling, are a strong, vivacious, beautiful, passionate—”

  The sides of Vannah’s mouth began to retreat from their purse and her brows raised a little.

  “—bitter, angry, desolate woman.” Stacia finished.

  The words sliced like daggers through her broken heart. “Thanks a lot.”

  “I’ve watched you lock yourself into an emotional prison cell ever since you lost Mark, but enough is enough.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You have a husband who loves you—you have everything you need.” Her head rolled back as she exhaled through gritted teeth. Shocked at her own insensitivity, she looked back at Stacia and softened her tone. “Almost everything. I’m sorry. I can be a real ass sometimes.”

  “Those are just the cards I was dealt and you, of all people, should know that can change in a heartbeat. You had a good thing with Mark, honey. You’ll find that again sooner than you think.”

  “Well, maybe I don’t want it. Did that ever occur to you?” Vannah jumped up and stomped across the room. The blue depths of the Savannah River out of the open window did nothing to soothe her internal torment.

  “No, it hasn’t. And I’ll tell you why, little sister.”

  Tears streamed down Vannah’s heated cheeks.

  “When you were with Mark, you were the happiest person I knew. You were—you. Since the night he died, I don’t even recognize you anymore. You want to be happy again. I know you do. You’re just scared to death that you will be.”

  “You seem to know so much. Why am I scared of being happy?” Nasal words spewed from her mouth as the wetness streamed down her face and neck.

  “Because you’re terrified of getting hurt all over aga
in.”

  She was startled by the tender grasp on her shoulders, Vannah tried to hold back the heart-wrenching sobs that surged out of her tight throat and trembling lips. Stacia always knew how to access her buried emotions. Dammit.

  With loving arms wrapped around her from behind, Vannah gripped Stacia’s folded fingers, and held tight as she broke down, Stacia’s strength—true to form—was her salvation.

  “You’re gonna get through this, Vannah. I promise. One day soon. For now, you’re gonna start with your date. Madame Evangeline is renowned for her matchmaking abilities.”

  “Fine.” She sniffed and pulled away, avoiding her sister’s burrowing stare.

  “Besides, staying at the Castillo Plantation is quite the honor—a brand new hotel in Southern Savannah? Come on, how can we not make the most of it?”

  “We should grab a bite to eat before the ghost walk.” Vannah ran her trembling fingers across her wet face as she gathered her belongings from the chair.

  “I guess you’re right.”

  Vannah opened her camel brown leather Gucci tote and sorted through her electronic arsenal.

  “Oh Jesus, you’re not doing that tonight are you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What if there are families on the walk?

  “What if there are?”

  “You’ll scare the crap out of them. This is supposed to be fun and light entertainment.”

  “I can be fun.”

  “Sure you can, on America’s Most Wanted Ghouls and Goblins.”

  “Oh, you’re hilarious.”

  “You’re gonna embarrass me again, aren’t you?”

  “Would I do that?”

  Stacia followed her across the room, mocking her with a sarcastic pucker as Vannah held the door open.

  “Dinner?” Vannah gave her disgruntled sister a triumphant smirk.

  “Sure and maybe I’ll buy you a drink—or five. Do you think that might take the edge off your ghost hunting?” Soft chuckles sounded down the elaborate wood paneled hallway as they sauntered to the elevator.

  ***

  “Uh—thank you for dinner, Cameron. It was—interesting.” His latest attempt at a date hurried to her charcoal LeSabre and hopped in.

  “Janet, I’m sorry about the—interruption. Can I make it up to you another time?”

  “The thing is, Cameron, you’re an attractive guy. Funny. Charming. But I can’t see you again.” She turned the key in the ignition, avoiding his probing stare.

  “But Janet.”

  “Don’t call me; this is just too weird.” She clicked her seat belt.

  “Your mom said she won’t butt in again,” he offered with desperation.

  Janet’s jaw dropped. He could have sworn she turned a little white, too, before the purr of the engine became a roar and the sound of squealing tires left him standing by the curb with burning rubber stinging his nose.

  “Well, that went better than the last one. At least she didn’t throw anything at me.” With heavy shoulders, he stood on the edge of the cobblestone sidewalk, staring at the still smoking black skid marks on the pavement.

  The muffled hum in his ear was of no consolation. “Sorry Cameron, maybe I should have warned you that she’s scared of ghosts and the whole life after death idea?” Doris’s soft voice filled his head with gentle laughter. Her apology offered no solace.

  “Yeah, yeah, shoulda, coulda, woulda. I know, you didn’t mean to. How many times have I heard that before from every spirit that drops in for just a minute? I might as well pledge my celibacy to the church and become a monk as long as you dead guys—and ladies—keep hanging around.” Doris’s presence evaporated when the muffled sound of Vincent Price’s laughter sang out from his pocket.

  Letting out a heavy sigh, he hit the talk button. “Hello? Hey Samuel…. How did it go? Oh, well, this one was much better. No bruises and no police were called.”

  Chapter Two

  “That was pretty amazing. I’ve never had fried green tomatoes before.” Stacia heaved a sigh and settled back into her seat. “Come to think of it, I’ve never eaten maggot-infested, eel either.” She frowned when she got no response. “Vannah!”

  “What?”

  “Put that away.”

  Vannah continued to fumble through her bag. “I have to get it ready; the tour is in an hour.”

  “You have some serious issues. Who goes for an entertaining ghost walk with an EMF detector and an infrared camcorder? Seriously?” Stacia flung her napkin on the table and shot a glare of questioning disapproval.

  “A ghost hunter. Hello?”

  “Self-proclaimed ghost hunter.”

  “Hey, I’m a professional now.”

  “You’re a professional pain in the ass, sweetheart.” Stacia rolled her head back and huffed with frustration.

  “Do you not remember the episode of Ghost Hunters I was on last year?”

  “You mean the one where you stood on the side watching the cast take readings and trace objects on paper?”

  “Hey, I don’t appreciate your cynicism, thank you very much.”

  “Vannah, your obsession with the dead has gotten out of control.”

  “My obsession is with proving there is no such thing.” Vannah fussed with her detector checking the battery.

  “Whatever. Just don’t make people uncomfortable tonight. Most people go for entertainment. Don’t spoil it for others like you did last time.”

  “That couple never should have been in there to begin with.” Vannah’s shoulders edged up toward her ears as her inflection rose.

  “Part of the tour of the gallows was to take pictures in the cell, Vannah, not get locked in with the lights out while some freak beams infrared cameras at you.”

  “I apologized. Besides, she didn’t need stitches.”

  “Ugh!”

  “All right, I’ll be more discreet this time.”

  Stacia settled back into her chair and grinned at her. “So, when is the big date anyway?”

  “The date, oh—not until tomorrow night. Nine o’clock.” She grimaced.

  “Maybe once you get a little somethin’ you’ll stop obsessing so much.”

  Vannah glowered at her.

  “I’m just saying.”

  “Stacia, my wallet’s not in here.” Vannah rummaged through her bag, frenzied.

  “Did you leave it at the spa?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “We can check there in the morning, I’ll cover dinner.” Stacia pulled out her credit card and placed it on the little plastic tray with the bill. “Maybe, just to be on the safe side, we should report your cards missing.”

  “I’ll go to the front desk and have them contact the credit card company. Thanks.” Vannah’s brows pressed tight together as she tried to figure out the mystery.

  “What is it Vannah?”

  “It’s just that I’m sure I had it when we started dinner.” She bent over, pulling the cloth up and searched under the table.

  ***

  “Thank you for joining our tour. My name is Cameron Evans.”

  Vannah kept her tote on her shoulder, pulled close like a security blanket.

  “Now, this tour is narrated by your guide—uh—that would be me—” He flashed a toothy grin, “—I’m an historian-intuitive, folklorist, master storyteller, and native Georgian who has grown up learning the legends—” eyeing the group members, he offered a sinister voice with a chuckle, “—that lie beneath the haunting tales of Savannah.”

  “Yeah, right.” Vannah hiked her bag higher on her tight shoulder.

  “Shhh.” Stacia gave her a push.

  “We’ll explore the in-depth, informative, and spookier shades of this lovely city’s haunted history. We believe this is a spine-tingling tour that even the skeptic will enjoy.” His infiltrating gaze caught her attention coupled with his devilishly charming smile.

  “Our haunted Ghost Walk is filled with stories from Savannah's spectral past. You’ll hear tales of p
oltergeists, shadow people, voodoo, and more!”

  “So is all of this malarkey based on actual research, or do you come up with this crap on your own?” The venomous words prompted several heads to turn toward the back of the crowd.

  “Vannah.” Stacia jabbed a sharp elbow to her right side.

  “Sorry,” She rubbed her ribs.

  “Folks….” His deep voice drew their attention back to the front.

  “I mean it, I’m gonna clock you,” Stacia shot a stern glare at her. “Behave.”

  “Fine.”

  “Savannah is often described as charming, captivating, and even sultry, but it’s also well known for its dark, mysterious side.”

  Vannah leaned forward, inspecting the know-it-all’s broad shoulders and striking, chiseled features.

  “Wow, he’s hot,” Stacia purred.

  “If you’re into that sort of thing.” Vannah’s gaze dropped to her French-manicured nails.

  “Sure, who’s into thick, luscious, deep blond hair that you could tangle your fingers in? Or, the six foot four, athletic Greek Adonis type who looks like he could rock your boat all night long?”

  “Stacia!”

  “What? Did you get a glimpse of that ass in those shorts, his legs, and solid muscles? And there isn’t much left to the imagination under that skin tight tank top. Those impeccable arms, his rock-hard pecs, his bulging—”

  “Stop it.”

  “But that beautiful, bronzed tan—”

  “Enough, you want to get a room with him or something?”

  “Touchy touchy, me doth think thou protest too much, dear sister.” Stacia poked a tickling finger into her waist.

  “Would you grow up already?”

  “Ladies, are you still joining us?” A velvet voice hummed over Vannah’s shoulder, sending chills down her spine.

  The bantering duo paused, and Vannah turned around, realizing everyone else had already begun walking ahead.

  “Yes, we’re still coming—I mean walking.” Vannah stuttered as flaring heat ran over her cheeks.