Oscar froze at the sight of the shape glowing against the thrashing night sky.

It was bluish-green, and as he watched, it stretched, lengthening into a tall figure that loomed over them. It had the vague, undulating shape of a human, but not a normal human: an elongated, horrible, furious creature with a cavernous black mouth and fiery yellow eyes.

Oscar’s breath—what he managed to exhale, for his lungs had frozen (as had the rest of his body)—hung in the air, and what should have been rain were sharp, frigid needles that pounded him and everyone around him.

“What the hell…” whispered Misty, stepping backward, goggling at the apparition. “Is that…?”

In spite of himself, Oscar already knew the answer to that, and somehow, he had the wherewithal to grab the fascinated Teddy’s hand and yank her back from the tableau in front of them.

A horrible scream—more of a cry of anger and fury rather than one of terror and fear—filled the air. It came from the apparition, he thought, and it rattled the glass windows, swelling in the lantern room as if attempting to combust the enclosure.

Rob and Misty fell back, petrified, their faces frozen as the apparition swelled, engulfing them, while its livid cry battled with the roll of thunder and the howl of the wind. Rain and sleet whipped up, spinning into the lantern room like raging icicles pummeling them through the fog of their cloudy, icy breaths.

“Watch out,” Teddy cried over the ferocity as Misty screamed and turned to run, eyes blind with terror.

She bolted from the apparition—past Oscar and Teddy—and spun out of the lantern room door. Over the tornado around them, Oscar heard another cry, a more shocked and terrified one that was suddenly, horribly cut off. He heard the ugly, unpleasant noise of someone falling.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

As Teddy and Oscar stood there, holding hands, watching in horror, Rob seemed unable to move for a long moment. He placed his hands over his ears as the ghost’s scream continued to fill the night, malevolent and bloodcurdling, and then suddenly, somehow, he was airborne…into the night, over the edge of the railing.

If he screamed, the sound was drowned out by the wild storm and the fury of the specter.

Oscar squeezed Teddy’s hand, yanking her behind him when the blue-green entity roared wider and louder in front of them. His fingers were so cold that they hardly moved, and his wrist, which had been hot with angry pain, felt slightly better. His eyelashes and nose felt tipped with ice. The arctic blast of the furious ghost roared around them, and for a moment, he thought they were to be the next victims.

But from behind him, Teddy shouted, “Thank you, Stuart! Now you can rest in peace! Be off with you!”

Oscar would have rolled his eyes if the moment hadn’t been so desperate, and when the ghost shivered violently, he tensed, prepared to defend them—how he would do so, he had no idea—

Then suddenly, it eased.

The noise, the storm, the energy in front of them. It softened—if one could use that term to describe an amorphous object—and then, all at once, it was just gone.

The freeze in the air also disappeared instantly, the rain and normal storm wind returned, and even the lightning and thunder seemed to lessen.

The only sound was the drum of rain on the roof and glass walls and the unsteady breathing of Teddy next to him.

His hands still shaky, his wrist now a mottled purple and blue balloon with no mobility to speak of, Oscar nevertheless managed to pull Teddy into his arms.

“That was…” Words failed him.

But, of course, Teddy had plenty to spare: “A real ghost, Oscar! A real ghost. Even you can’t deny it.”

He laughed and buried his face in her sweet hair. No. Even he couldn’t deny it now.

“So there was a real ghost after all,” Iva said, preening a little as she looked at Oscar.

They were gathered at Orbra’s, of course—but after hours this time, so no one would interrupt—because the Tuesday Ladies insisted on hearing all of the details. It was three days after the shattering events at Stony Cape Lighthouse. Oscar’s Jeep had been extricated from the mud, and the power had been restored. And Teddy and Oscar had had two days of uninterrupted time to heat up the sheets, walk the beach, and otherwise enjoy being together without the specter of Marcie, the Sargent Blue book, or a ghost.

“There was a real ghost and a fake ghost,” Teddy said, settling back with a cup of something called a matcha latte that Orbra had insisted she try. It was very green, but it was frothy and sweet, and though there was an underlying taste of grass, it was going down pretty well. “And that was what confused me at first. And what caused some of us to question the idea of a supernatural element.”

She looked at Oscar, who was watching her as she held court—as, for once, Maxine was actually listening. His wrist was wrapped up (according to the emergency room personnel, it was badly sprained, but not broken), and he had a mug of tea in front of him that smelled floral and sweet. When their eyes met, he had the grace to appear a little abashed. He was so adorable.

“I told you I could sense the ghostly presence,” Iva said firmly. “I have an uncanny ability for these sorts of things.”

Maxine opened her mouth to say something, but she was interrupted as Declan and Leslie came through the door in a blur of activity.

“Wait, wait, don’t say anything else. I want to hear,” Leslie said. As she took a seat next to Iva, she murmured, “Did you bring it?”

“Yes,” Iva replied, glancing at Teddy. “But first let’s hear about what actually happened that night.”

“I thought you left Wicks Hollow,” said Declan, looking at Oscar with a quirked eyebrow.

“I came back,” Oscar replied.

“And just in time,” Teddy said. “Although if you hadn’t gotten stuck in the mud, I would have probably left before Misty and Rob showed up the next day, and then none of this would have happened.”

“Which is a good thing,” Oscar reminded her with a small smile. “Otherwise, Misty and Rob would still be doing what they were doing.” His smile faded, and Teddy knew he was remembering the fact that Rob wouldn’t ever be doing anything again. He had, of course, died after his fall off the top of the lighthouse. Poetic justice, maybe, but it was still an awful thing to happen, and a terrible memory to live with.

Misty, on the other hand, had survived her fall down the lighthouse stairs. She’d broken an arm and had a serious concussion, and would probably spend the rest of her life in prison. But she’d been able to fill in some of the details Teddy and Oscar hadn’t known.

“All right, back to business,” Maxine said, slamming her hand on the table. “Did you get the lantern working or not?”

“That’s jumping ahead a little,” Teddy said.

“Well, not really, as, chronologically speaking, the SOS happened before the real ghost,” Oscar reminded her.

“Oh. Right.” Teddy spread her hands and gave a little laugh. “Ha. I usually write the denouements, not speak them—so give me a little break, everyone.”

They all laughed, and she continued. “So, even though we realized there had been some monkey business in causing us to believe there was a ghost—the nightly scream, and the greenish cloud thing—there were still a few things I couldn’t explain.

“Like, how did Misty and Rob know Oscar and I were going to go up to the top of the lighthouse that first night? There was no way they could have known—and even if they did, they couldn’t have blocked the door to keep us up there.”

“Did you say block the door? Not lock it?” Maxine demanded.

“Yes, because the door doesn’t have a lock or a latch on it. None of them up there do. So somehow, that door—and the others—wouldn’t open…and then suddenly it did. And then there was the all-of-a-sudden arctic chill that came and went inexplicably. How could they have done that? Plus, that chill was just creepy.” She looked at Oscar. “That was why I wasn’t completely convinced, ever, that what we’d experienced that first night wasn’t a ghost.”

“Those thoughts occurred to me too—as we were climbing up those steps. Plus,” Oscar said, “the greenish supposed ghost we saw the night of the break-in was different from what we’d seen the first night.”

“Exactly.” Teddy beamed at him, wishing they were sitting next to each other so she could smack a kiss on his cheek. “And once Misty confirmed that they actually had murdered Stuart Millore, and I remembered that we’d been talking about someone being pushed off the top of the lighthouse right when the door slammed shut…I was certain there had to be a real supernatural presence. It just made sense.”

“After all, this is Wicks Hollow,” Juanita said, petting Bruce Banner enthusiastically as he tried to lick up some of the crumbs on the table in front of her.

“That’s right,” Maxine said, spraying a new set of crumbs from her cinnamon scone. “It’s like that Hell Mountain on the Tiffany show. But no demons.”

“Hellmouth,” Juanita snapped. “And it’s Buffy, not Tiffany or Taffy. And it’s the Hulk, not the Hunk. How many times do we have to tell you?”

Maxine flapped a gnarled hand at her friend and said, “No respect. No respect at all. Now, young man, if you don’t tell me about the lantern, I’m going to get very annoyed.”

Teddy stifled a giggle, unable to imagine how “very annoyed” could be different from regular Maxine.

“Well, I didn’t have time to actually try and figure out how to get the real light working—even if it was still possible,” Oscar replied. “Plus, one hand was pretty much out of commission. But I had the flashlight in my pocket, and I knew that even a small light would be reflected eighty times its actual illumination behind those Fresnel lenses, so I used that. It was easy to flip it on and off to do the SOS.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but Teddy noticed his cheeks were a little ruddy.

“It was brilliant,” she said. “That’s what ultimately brought help. By the time we got off the lighthouse and came down to find Misty out cold on one of the landings, the Coast Guard had already called Joe Cap because they recognized the signal was coming from the lighthouse. He’d just reached Oscar’s stuck Jeep when we called in ourselves.”

“So what was the deal with the green and blue boat? Did that have anything to do with this whole mess?” Declan asked.

“Yes,” Oscar said. “But only that first day. Misty and Rob had figured out the basic location of the shipwreck, and they were dropping off some supplies to mark off the location underwater. Tape and stakes and some other tools that would help them in their dive. Apparently it was too heavy and bulky to try to bring down there from a shore dive.”

“What I don’t understand,” said Orbra, refilling their pots with hot water, “is why it took them so long. Didn’t Stuart Millore die three years ago? Why did they just get started now?”

“Well, once they realized the diary entry was a good indication of the basic area where the ship went down, they still had to find it,” Teddy said. “And in order to find it, they had to have money for equipment. So it took them a while to gather up the funds, and then even longer for them to dive. And you can’t really dive in Lake Michigan from October through April, even with a wetsuit.”

“Well, that’s one hell of a story,” Maxine said. “Good thing I told you how to make the lantern light work, there, young man. Or you’d probably not be sitting here.”

“Right,” Oscar replied with a grin twitching his mouth. “I appreciated your instructions when we were up there that day.”

Maxine whipped a sharp look at him. “You aren’t patronizing me are you, there, young man?” Her dark eyes were sharp and eagle-like.

“No, of course not. If you hadn’t given me a lecture—I mean, all the information—about how to make the light go on, I probably wouldn’t have thought to try,” Oscar said quickly. His face was a little ruddier now.

Teddy chuckled. “Between Oscar’s quick thinking and Stuart Millore’s ghost, I’d say everything worked out as well as it could.”

Conversation went on to other things, and just as Teddy was about to rise to leave, Iva said, “Wait a minute there, dear. I have a book I’d like you to sign.”

“Me too,” said Leslie eagerly, sliding her chair over next to Iva and Teddy. She dug in her bag and produced an old, well-read paperback novel.

Iva did the same with a different paperback not quite as worn and creased. Both covers, though different, were decorated with lurid golds, pinks, and shiny metallic foil.

Now it was time for Teddy’s face to turn a little warm. “Oh.” She didn’t look at Oscar.

“What’s this going on here?” Maxine snatched up Leslie’s book and read, “Love’s Forbidden Caress? By Theodora Mackenzie.” She swept those eagle eyes up to Teddy as Juanita snatched up Iva’s book. “You write this, missy?” Before Teddy could reply, Maxine said, “Looks damned good. Nice and sexy. You got any more of them?”

“That one’s about a blacksmith,” Iva said. “It’s one of Leslie’s favorite books—and I’m certain part of the reason she fell head over heels for Declan here. This one here—mine—that one’s about a grumpy duke who falls for a sassy governess. They’re both very sexy, but also funny and suspenseful. And romantic.” Her eyes turned a little misty. “It reminds me of when my dear Hollis and I— Well, never mind.” She looked at Teddy. “You’ll sign them, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Teddy said, using the opportunity to dig in her bag for a Sharpie instead of looking at Oscar. Not that she really cared what he thought about the fact that she’d written some romance novels, but he was, after all, a scholar. A PhD at Princeton. And…well, he’d just have to deal with it. She glanced up at him once she had the Sharpie, and to her surprise, he didn’t seem the least bit shocked or otherwise put off by the knowledge.

“How did you—uh—figure it out?” she asked Iva as she signed her pen name.

“I’m a librarian, dear. I know everything.”

The next day, Teddy and Oscar made their final trip to the hot springs.

“It’s only fitting that we end our little sojourn here the way we began it, don’t you think?” Teddy asked as she slipped into the pool. “Mmmmm.”

“Definitely.” He climbed in next to her, his bandaged wrist wrapped in plastic to protect it from the water. “So,” he said, lounging back against the rocky wall, “you write romance novels too?”

“I knew this was coming.” She sighed, tipping her head back so the cool water from the small falls dampened her hair.

“What was coming? I think it’s interesting and laudable that you can write in two different genres.”

Teddy’s eyes popped open and she sat up abruptly. “You do?”

“Well, yes. They’re very different styles of writing.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Yes. And…?”

“And…nothing.” He tried to look innocent, but she saw through it.

Teddy eyed him for a minute. “Come on, Oscar, spill.”

“All right.” He slouched down in the pool a little more. “My grandmother and her friends used to read Harlequin Romances, and when I went to stay with her one summer, I read a few of them.”

“A few?”

He shrugged. “Well, it was either that and Agatha Christie, or War and Peace, Dickens, and Shakespeare. And I’d had enough of that in school. So, I’m just saying, I think it’s admirable that you can write in two different genres.”

“Thank you.” She watched him for a minute longer. “That must be why you didn’t get all embarrassed when the Tuesday Ladies were talking about jumping bones and getting laid.”

He laughed. “Well, let’s just say, my granny was a feisty, hotblooded woman. Maxine Took reminds me a lot of her, actually. I like her.” He slipped further into the water and surged over to her in the small pool. “I’m guessing you need to do a lot of research for those books.” He waggled his eyebrows as he took her by the shoulders, the plastic on his right hand crinkling softly. “I mean, where else do you get your ideas?”

Teddy rolled her eyes and pushed him away playfully. “Oh, I’ve never heard that one before.”

“Oh.” He seemed genuinely crestfallen.

She laughed heartily at his sadness. “Oscar, I get my ideas for sex scenes—as you so delicately refused to specify—the same way I get my ideas for how to murder someone, or how to hijack a plane, or how to poison an entire city: from my imagination. Not by actually doing it.”

“Oh,” he said again, easing back to his side of the pool. Still with the puppy-dog face.

She took pity on him. “But, you know, I was just thinking…when I do write another historical romance, maybe I should write one about a man who seduces a woman in a hot-springs pool in the middle of a forest. And in that case…inspiration always helps.” She gave him a sly look.

He surged back closer. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Teddy laughed and pulled him up to her for a hot, damp kiss. “I adore you, Dr. London.”

“I adore you too, Theodora MacKenzie.”

She laughed against his mouth, then settled back, putting space between them again. “You never did find out about those crystalline microbes in this pool, did you?”

“No. They seem to have been an anomaly to this particular ecosystem. And in my most recent samples—yesterday—they were nonexistent.” He began to nibble along her jaw, and she closed her eyes to enjoy. Then they popped open.

“You know, Oscar, maybe that’s why this pool has sacred or magical or special abilities—those crystalline microbes might be the cause of it.”

“What?” he pulled away, giving her a strange look. “That’s ridiculous.”

“That,” she said, sitting up straight, “is what you said about the ghost.”

“Mmmph.”

“After all,” she said, “I got in this pool and I ended up with my heart’s desire—exactly what I wanted: getting my book done and then getting you.”

“Plus a real ghost.”

He surprised a laugh out of her, and she kissed him on the cheek in appreciation. “Yes, that too. Plus, I guess I should consider it research to know what it’s like to be in a life-and-death, harrowing, and violent situation. Not that I ever thought that was my heart’s desire.” Then she looked at him speculatively. “And, actually, if you think about it, you got your heart’s desire too. When you got in the pool, your heart’s desire was to get Marcie back. Don’t deny it,” she said quickly when he opened his mouth. “You know it’s true.”

He shook his head. “No. Remember what you were saying before—about only thinking you knew what your true heart’s desire was? That was true for me when I got into this pool—sacred or magical or not—the first time. But, in the end, I really did get my heart’s desire.”

He was looking at her so tenderly that she didn’t even need for him to say the words that were coming next.

But it would be nice to hear.

And then he said, “I got to run a light at the top of a lighthouse. That’s always been my—”

She dunked him.

Oscar came up sputtering, but grinning, and he dove toward her. He pulled her into his arms, careful of his plastic-wrapped hand. His eyes softened. “Teddy, I had no idea until I met you, but you—only you—are my heart’s desire.”

After a very long, loving kiss, Teddy pulled back. She was smiling. “Then I guess I was right about two things.”

“Two things?”

“First, there was a real ghost. And secondly—this hot-springs pool is special. Because we both got our heart’s desire. And maybe—just maybe—that’s why the crystalline microbes are gone now!”

Oscar shook his head, giving her an affectionate smile even as he rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Teddy, that’s not how science works.”

“That’s because it’s not science, Oscar. It’s something else. After all, this is Wicks Hollow.”