Dark Matters_ Cloak and Dagger (Book 1) - Christie Golden [39]
and the cargo bay was fast losing its appeal-then she wanted to retrieve him.
Still she lingered just outside, peering in. She glanced around. Everything was as she had left it, including the moved bins. There was Rotter, perched atop a bin where-
-where the ghost had put him. Naomi swallowed, and all of Seven's cool, soothing words evaporated like mist.
"I imagined it," she said in a fierce whisper, hoping that uttering the words aloud would make them true. "The-"
She forgot what it was that was making her hall- hall-see things mat weren't there. But Seven had said it, so it must be correct
Slowly, Naomi walked forward. Hotter grinned up at her. Trembling, she reached out and touched the toy. It felt exactly as it always had-soft and slightly furry. This, at least, had not changed. Quickly she snatched up Hotter and squeezed him tightly.
Yes, she had just imagined it And as for the bins, well, someone had clearly needed something and come in and gotten it That happened all the time in a cargo bay aboard a Starship. Of course it did.
Then Naomi remembered the hairs she'd strung between the bins. She could believe that someone might have come in earlier to move the bins to get a needed article, but they certainly hadn't been back. Nothing else was disturbed. If they'd come back, the bins would have been moved again. So it stood to reason that the hairs would still be in place.
Don't look, she told herself. Just don't look. If she didn't look, she wouldn't know, could just go on thinking it was her imagination.
But Naomi could no more refrain from checking than she could cease breathing. It was in her nature. She had spent all of her brief life asking questions, learning, looking, growing, and she had to know for certain if there was a ghost aboard Voyager or if she needed to turn right around and march herself to sickbay.
She held Hotter in front of her like a shield. She swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and with a steadiness to her movements that she didn't feel in the pit of her stomach, stepped forward toward the moved bins.
The hairs were gone.
Naomi gasped. She'd been right the first time. But oddly enough, she felt more excited than afraid. Once, after a bad nightmare experienced when her mom had come so close to death, Naomi had spoken with Commander Chakotay about ghosts and spirits. She'd been a little afraid of him once, he being so big and all, but his voice was soft and his movements gentle. He'd told her that ghosts weren't evil, that they were just people who'd gotten stuck in this life when they were supposed to pass on to another place. Ghosts needed help to pass on. He'd then launched into a description of an elaborate releasing ritual, which had utterly enthralled Naomi at the time but which now she could not remember. One thing she did recall, though. Ghosts sometimes
needed someone to speak to them, so they could tell their sad stories.
"Mr. Ghost," she said softly, looking around for- what? "M-my name is Naomi Wildman. I'm very sorry you're stuck here. Is there anything I can do to help you get unstuck?"
Silence. But not an empty silence. Now mat Naomi knew he-for it was a male; she'd heard him laugh at Plotter-was real, she could sense him. Her skin and scalp prickled, though the temperature didn't drop as she had half expected from Commander Chakotay's tales.
"Hello? I know you're here. I-"
From out of nowhere, a hand clamped down on her mouth. Another one seized her arm and dragged her forward. She didn't even have time to scream.
CHAPTER
8
"I WISH YOU'D STOP WASTING MY TIME," GROWLED THE
Doctor.
Seven was surprised. She knew that most of the crew complained about the Doctor's lack of something dubbed