“You’re being a bit hard on yourself, don’t you think?”
“That wasn’t my point,” he said, continuing. “I’m just saying that I know how lucky I was that these out-of-my-league women seemed fascinated with me for a while. I relished it, but to be honest—and I don’t mean to stereotype them—it was all a little vacuous. Chloe, on the other hand, she’s the right mix for me. The perfect mix, I should say. I know how fortunate I am to have her in my life. I don’t want to screw that up.”
“You make it sound so simple,” I said.
“It is that simple,” Godfrey said. He turned back to his book, flipping through the pages once again. “The question should be why isn’t it simple for you?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve been having these. . . flare-ups, with my powers. I’ve actually felt what can happen with that deep kind of love, the anger and rage it can turn into. I’ve been in the mind of a person crazed by that level of closeness. You got the incident report I filed on the ghost tattooist at the Gibson-Case Center, right?”
Godfrey nodded without looking up. “Last I checked,” he said, lost in the book, “you weren’t a ghost tattooist. Why should her choices affect how you react?”
I went to speak, but he had me there. I couldn’t explain the intangible mental blurring of the lines between my emotions and hers to someone who hadn’t experienced it himself. Instead, I shut my mouth and waited for him to find what he was looking for.
“Here we go,” he said, tapping at the page. “June fifteenth, 1904. The General Slocum was a steamship that was chartered for a yearly church trip. More than thirteen hundred people were on that ship, and most of them went down with it.”
“It sank?”
Godfrey flipped ahead in the book. “It’s attributed to a fire that started on board,” he said. “That, and there was little in the way of working lifeboats or flotation equipment at the time. Most everyone either burned or drowned.”
“That seems like the kind of life trauma that could leave a lot of spirits roaming the material plane,” I said. “Is there any mention of a woman in green?”
Godfrey read on, and then after a moment shook his head. “Nothing in here,” he said. “It could be possible that she was one of the leaders of the St. Mark’s Lutherans who arranged the outing, but she wasn’t on board.”
“I’ve encountered that woman,” I said, “and she’s no Lutheran. She struck me as something much older than that.”
“Which would make sense,” said Godfrey, tapping the page where he was reading. “The Slocum wasn’t the first ship to go down there. Hundreds had sunk well into the latter half of the nineteenth century, all blamed on the harsh currents and dangerous rocks below. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers started blasting away what lay beneath the surface in the mid-eighteen hundreds. Looks like it has clearance now, but I don’t think anyone has messed with the area since the 1920s.”
“A dangerous place with a dangerous name, it seems,” I said.
“So it appears,” Godfrey said. “But let me make this clear. This stuff I’m looking up is just regular plain ole New York history. There’s nothing paranormal associated with it in our records . . .”
I turned around and started heading back through the stacks to the stairs leading up to the offices above. “Those hundreds of ghosts didn’t get there themselves, Godfrey,” I said. “And they’re afraid of a woman in green who I think is responsible for Mason Redfield’s death. There’s more to the Hell Gate Bridge than what is in your history books.”
“Where are you going?” Godfrey said, but I didn’t hear him following. He was probably taking the time to put the book back using a little caution.
“I need to know more about what’s happened at the Hell Gate Bridge, the stuff that’s not in the history books, and for that I’ll need to find something from one of those sunken ships,” I said. I could already feel the electric tingle of my powers inside my gloves. “Something I can get my hands on. Hopefully the F.O.G.gie boat’s ready, or else it’s going to be a long swim.”
19
From the bow of the Fraternal Order’s converted cabin cruiser-turned trawler, the East River was a mix of creepy and calm, a dark canyon of water that lay between the lights of Manhattan and Queens. For once, the sky was clear, and I was thankful for the break from all the rain. Connor steered from inside the closed-off cabin, but Jane and I couldn’t help but ride up front like tourists on the Circle Line. Jane’s face practically lit up as she stood there, gripping the railing, eyes closed and wind flapping her ponytail back and forth.
“You look like you’re feeling better,” I said.
“I don’t know what it is,” she said. “Being on the water just makes me feel almost normal again.” Jane reached up and pulled the band from her ponytail, letting her hair fly loose in the wind like a sexy blond Medusa.
“Good,” I said, “but if you shout out that you’re queen of the world, I may have to push you overboard.”
Jane laughed out loud, her voice ringing out over the sounds of the water and the low, constant hum of the boat’s engine.
“I’ll try not to,” she said. She leaned forward over the prow and I reached out to grab her.
“Easy,” I said. The last thing I wanted was to fish her out of the East River. Her arm was freezing in the warmth of my hand and I pulled her to me, holding her. “You didn’t have to come, you know.”
“Yes, I did,” she said, looking deep into my eyes. “You don’t understand. I had to get out of the Department for a bit. I was getting claustrophobic in the offices. Wesker and Allorah were driving me nuts, running all these tests on my mark.”
“I can certainly understand Wesker driving someone nuts,” I said. “Prolonged exposure to him can also cause a rash.”
The wind blew Jane’s hair across her face, but it wasn’t enough to hide her look of worry. “I know,” she said. “I just needed a break from all the poking and prodding.” She looked into the wheelhouse where Connor stood at the controls. “You sure he’s okay with me tagging along on this?”
“Who cares?” I asked, smiling at her. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”
Jane spun around in my arms, putting her back against me. “I never realized how much I enjoyed the open water. Growing up in Kansas didn’t exactly offer much in the way of water-based activities.”
Jane let her head fall against my shoulder. I loved the mood she was in. Days of sniping at each other over the whole drawer debacle melted away, but there was still more than enough to worry about, thanks to the mark.
We rode along the river in our own mini version of the Love Boat until I spotted the Hell Gate Bridge just past the much larger Triborough. Connor angled our boat into the waterway between the shores of Astoria Park and Wards Island. He slowed as the boat passed underneath the bridge and killed the engine entirely when we were at the sweet spot between the two stone towers that sat on either shore. Jane and I headed toward the back of the boat via the narrow walkways on either side of the cabin. Connor was already at work on the newly mounted set of winches, pulleys, and metal draggers that had been added to the back of the boat.
“Sorry to interrupt your pleasure cruise,” he said when he saw us walking toward him.
“You could have at least provided some drinks or hors d’oeuvres,” I said.
Connor stood and looked at me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Who captained us here again?”
“Fine,” I said. “You drag something nice up to the surface with all the equipment that I can use my psychometry on out here, I’ll buy the drinks. Fair enough?” I worried that I might get another visit from the rageful tattooist if I did use my power, but with Jane’s spirits improved, I hoped that would help quell it. Besides, I couldn’t avoid using them as much as I had been, not when there was a real chance of making headway in the case.