Risen (Haunted Series Book 22)

a lot of daylight trying to determine whether the ghost that wandered the edges of the jungle could see them or not.  Were they sentinels or were they spirits looking for a way off the island?  A lot of the them still held the visages of death.  Their dead eyes didn’t connect with Fergus’s as he tried to communicate with them.  They didn’t seem to see him at all.
He discussed this with Kevin as they slowly made their way. “I’m starting to see a pattern.  The ones that died together seem to be able to communicate with each other, but the various groups were ignorant that they were not alone on the island.  It’s as if each group was in a moving pageant of invisibility.  Why we two can see them and they can’t see us is another mystery,” Fergus said.
“I get the feeling they’re window dressing,” Kevin said.  “They’re meant to attract us so that the active members of this isle can sneak up on us unawares.”
“You were always suspicious,” Fergus said.
“Wasn’t I right that our landlord was in cahoots with our employer?  When we got a raise, the landlord raised our rent.  We were never going to be able to move up in society, no matter how hard we worked.”
“Or drank,” Fergus said.
Kevin pulled out his flask and offered it to Fergus.  “Go ahead, it’s not going to kill you now.”
“How come it never runs out?” Fergus asked.  “It’s the devils brew, pure and simple.”
“I think of it as the universe’s compensation for my death,” Kevin said, swirling the contents of the flask before taking a drink.  “It gave me this to get me through eternity, just like it gave you your knife.”
“Or your son his axe.  I use my knife to whittle. I shudder to think what your son uses his axe for?”
“He assures me he does a lot of pruning, but I sense he uses it to fight evil when the opportunity presents itself.”
“How do you feel about having a son older than you?” Fergus asked, stopping for a moment to examine some oddly shaped stones.
“I’m sad he didn’t live a full life but happy he lived longer than me.  He accomplished a lot in such a short time.  He owned the land he farmed.  Built a house, a barn, and a few outbuildings.  He cleared the land.”
“I hear he’s filling it in again,” Fergus said.  “Something about returning what he took.”
“He’s rather odd that way.  I think he got that attribute from his ma.  Catherine would borrow from the poor box and return it with a little extra.  She weren’t even Catholic.  I was, but she was raised outside the true faith.”
Fergus looked over at his friend.  “I don’t remember seeing you in church.”
“I’m what they’re calling lapsed these days.”
Fergus started laughing.  “I’m glad we were able to see these days even though we’re dead.  Can you imagine if we had all these electronic gizmos when we were lads?”
“Instead of dying in the bar, we’d probably die in front of the television.  My wife would have killed me herself.  The only redeeming thing she could ever find with my alcoholism was that it got me out of the house.”
“I’m not seeing any evidence of large crates being moved through this here cave,” Fergus said, examining the walls.  “I do see claw marks and bits of skin.”
“I think we’ve gone far enough for right now.  I need to recharge.”
“You’re the only ghost I know that takes naps,” Fergus complained.
“How many ghosts do you know?” Kevin asked as he made himself comfortable in a small alcove.
“Including you?”
“Yes.”
“Five.”
“Are you including yourself?”
“Yes.  Well then, four.”
“Not a great sampling,” Kevin said as he fell asleep.
Fergus pulled out a small piece of driftwood from his pocket, opened his knife, leaned back against the wall of the cave, and began to whittle.
Sabine’s head stopped pounding.  She sat up and walked out onto the deck carrying three flashlights she had found in her cabin.  She climbed to the top deck and walked the perimeter.  As she passed each of the yacht’s exterior lights, they faded as if the energy was drained from each bulb.  Sabine turned on each flashlight, placing them five feet from the others, making a perfect triangle that shot its light heavenward.
Mason, who was on night watch, approached her out of the darkness.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Doing what Komal asked me to do,” she responded, her voice a creepy monotone.
She sounded odd.  Mason turned Sabine around.  Her eyes were open, but her breath came easily as if she were asleep.
“Fair Sabine, I think you’re sleepwalking.”
“Best not wake her then,” Mia’s voice came from above him.
Mason whipped around and almost called out in alarm.  A large hand over his mouth stopped him.
“Shush, we need you to be extra quiet.  Can you do this?” Mia whispered.
Mason nodded.
“Burt, release him,” she said.
The hand was lowered, and Mason turned around.  He was momentarily blinded by a flashlight being lifted before it was shut off.  The boat shifted as if a large weight landed on the deck.
“Tell me, do you have any empty cabins?”
“Two,” Mason said.  “Why?”
“You’re going to have company for a while.  Where is Patrick?” Mia asked from the dark.
“In the lower stateroom on the… damn.  I don’t know the nautical term.  The right as you go downstairs.”
“Thank you,” Mia said.
“We’ll get set up,” Burt said.  “Come on, Ted.”
“I can’t see a damn thing,” Mason complained.  He hardly heard the three pairs of feet as they descended to the lower decks.
“Good, that means neither can the people watching this boat.  Where’s the captain?”
“He’s below.  The first mate is entertaining a female crewman in the whatchamacallit, engine room?” Mason guessed.
“On this