Razorhurst Read Free Page B

her ability to go wherever she wanted. She screamed at her to “Bloody bugger off!”
    Miss Lee disappeared. That sudden vanish all ghosts could do that never stopped making Kelpie’s skin crawl.
    Though worse was the slow fade. Because then they never came back.
    Next morning Kelpie woke to Miss Lee whispering in her ear. Kelpie had kipped down in what had been Frog Hollow, inside a broken packing crate on a pile of discarded fabric, wishing Old Ma was back.
    Miss Lee whispered a story about a selfish giant. Kelpie pretended to be asleep until she was finished. When she opened her eyes, Miss Lee was smiling.
    “I’ll teach you to read,” she said. “It’s easy.”

DYMPHNA
    Dymphna Campbell smiled at the handsome young man smoking on the back steps. She held a finger to her lips, curving them as charmingly as she could, meeting his eyes, willing him not to betray them, trying to slow her breath, the beating of her heart, all while the ghost of Jimmy Palmer begged her to stop ignoring him.
    “Please,” she whispered to the young man, who almost smiled back at her.
    Jimmy Palmer dead. Jimmy Palmer a ghost.
    Dymphna did not glance his way. She kept her eyes on the young man. Watching him watching her.
    She had plenty of practice not looking at ghosts. Most of her life she’d concealed her ability to see and hear them. Unlike Kelpie she knew ghosts could drive you mad.
    She could even ignore a ghost like Jimmy—a man she’d known, a man she’d tried to love—while he loomed over her, taller than a house, stronger than an ox; big, Jesus, he was big. Take two of that young man to approach the size of Jimmy Palmer. Though the boy was much prettier.
    Jimmy waved his hand back and forth in front of her face. Dymphna didn’t blink.
    He tried to put his arms around her. They slid through as if he were separating Dymphna’s body from her soul. She didn’t shudder, though it made her guts quail. She was already quailing—huge Jimmy Palmer, robbed of heft, light and airy as any ghost half his size.
    Much harder than not looking at him was not asking him what had happened. How did Mr. Davidson know they were going to kill him and take over Razorhurst? Who else knew?
    How did he get to Jimmy first? Was Mr. Davidson going to kill her too? Did Gloriana know? If Glory knew that Dymphna and Jimmy had been planning to take over from her, then Dymphna was twice dead and would end her days haunting the bottom of the harbour.
    Between Mr. Davidson, Glory, and the coppers, Dymphna couldn’t see a way out.
    But at least her blood was still inside her, not like Jimmy Palmer. Walking in on him like that … she wasn’t going to forget it any time soon. So much blood. Almost as much as …
    Dymphna gulped.
    If she’d arrived a little earlier, would she be dead too? Had she missed death a second time?
    How had Mr. Davidson found out about their plans? There was no one to tell him. Jimmy and Dymphna had kept it all to themselves. But he would not have had Jimmy killed without knowing for sure. For more than three years now, Gloriana and Mr. Davidson had respected the truce. Each sticking to their own slice of Razorhurst. None of their men going after each other except when it was personal. It would take something big for Mr. Davidson to break the truce. Something as big as a plot to kill him.
    But then why had Mr. Davidson left that card? Identical to the cards on all those flowers he’d sent her?
    For you, Dymph
    Dymphna had almost dropped her bundle reading those words. But perhaps she was reading it wrong. Perhaps it was exactly like the other cards he’d sent her with their messages of
Be mine
and
You are in my thoughts
and
I want you
. Yet another attempt to woo her. Only this time with blood.
    Perhaps it was Mr. Davidson announcing he was getting rid of his competition; clearing the path so she’d be his.
    Like hell that was going to happen.
    Perhaps the card meant Davidson
didn’t
know about her and Jimmy’s