When Good Ghosts Get the Blues Page 15

“Yeah. But before I leave, I wanted to stop by and say thanks for your help with everything. If it weren’t for you, I probably would have done something stupid, with regard to Raymond, I mean.”

  “You met him, didn’t you?”

  I nodded and drew in a deep breath. “I did.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He flat out told me he’s a killer, but he made it seem like he’s some kind of—I don’t know, death angel, I guess. Like it was his duty to kill.”

  “He’s delusional,” Lilah said, her tone flat. “Spirits aren’t meant to wander the earth for as long as Raymond has. It can drive even the most good-natured spirit insane, and I don’t think Raymond was ever good.”

  “How old is he?”

  “It’s hard to say. He’s never given a full accounting of his life and hasn’t revealed his last name, which makes it hard to track him back through history, but I’d guess he’s spent at least a couple of centuries wandering this realm.”

  “Wow. I get impatient just waiting in line at the grocery store.”

  Lilah laughed. “Exactly.”

  I smiled but it faded quickly and I looked down at the lid of the coffee cup, trying to decide how to broach my next question.

  “He’s very good at getting inside people’s heads, Scarlet. So, if he said something that upset you, remember that you have to take it with a grain of salt. Or, maybe a small boulder of salt.”

  Whether she knew it or not, Lilah struck the cord behind my visit. From the look in her eyes, she knew.

  “He said I’m like him. That we’re the same thing.”

  My whispered confession hung heavy between us for a long moment and I continued, if only to drown out the silence, “And, I guess, the reason why it bothers me is because I don’t actually know what I am, or where this power, or gift, came from. No one in my family has anything even remotely like this. I’ve recently made friends with a witch and been exposed to more supernatural situations than I could even try to explain right now. It’s all kind of thrown me back into this existential crisis I find myself in every few months.”

  I paused, twisting my hands together. “So, do you think … that maybe, he knows something about me?”

  “Are you asking if I think you’re some kind of repressed serial killer?” Lilah asked, a half-cocked smile on her lips.

  “Well, no, I just—” I stopped and shook my head. “I don’t know what I’m asking you.”

  “Give me your hand,” she said, extending hers, palm up.

  I eyed her but then slowly reached out and placed my palm on hers. She closed her and I stopped breathing. Tensed lines appeared between her brows and my pulse spiked. What was she seeing? Was there some darkness locked inside me that she could sense with her own power?

  After what seemed like forever, her eyes fluttered open and she studied me. “Tell me what you felt when you touched the mirror.”

  I blinked. “How did you—”

  “Just tell me what it was like. Did it hurt? Or was it like a … some kind of invitation?”

  “Neither.” I chewed my lip for a moment, trying to pin down every detail. “The mirror was cold. Freezing, actually. But when I ran my fingers along it, there was something almost warm. Tangible. I think, if I’d wanted, I could have pulled something … or, someone from the other side.”

  “Have you ever felt that before?”

  I started to shake my head, but then it hit me. “Yes! Whenever I’ve used my ghost trap. It’s the same.”

  “Ghost trap?”

  I produced the small orb from my bag—it’s one of those don’t leave home without it kind of things—and explained where I’d found it and the times I’d used it. Lilah listened intently, turning the small sphere over in her hands. When I finished, we fell back to a tense silence, as if the air itself crackled with mystery and wonder.

  Finally, Lilah looked up and met my gaze.

  “Well? What’s the diagnosis?” I asked, a nervous edge to my voice.

  “Scarlet, you’re a Soul Shepherd.”

  Chapter 19

  Twenty-four hours later, I found myself sitting on the formal sofa in the sitting room of the Beechwood Manor. Holly sat beside me, plying me with bottomless calming tea she swore was laced with only a teensy bit of magic. Whatever she’d laced it with, it worked. I felt a detached calmness as I walked her through all the events of my escapades in New Orleans.

  “Bat wings!” she said when I was finished. “Next time, maybe you two should try Sandals or something. Or, at least someplace that doesn’t have a raging spirit underworld just under the surface, like New Orleans.”

  “Noted,” I said, giggling.

  In a way, it was therapeutic to unpack all the insanity in one swoop.

  “So, where does that leave things, now that you’re back?” Holly asked. “If he’s in Los Angeles and you’re here…” she trailed off, a pinched look of concern on her face.

  I blew out a slow breath. “I don’t know, really. I talked to Lucas last night after I got home. The cops have Sam and Brooklyn in custody and he’s been cleared from the investigation. He’s flying back to LA later tonight. The studio apologized to him and offered him a new contract for the remainder of the season of the show, but he’s not sure he wants to take it.”

  “I don’t blame him,” Holly said. “It sounds like they kind of raked him over the coals.”

  “I wouldn’t blame him either, if he decides to walk away. I guess it just makes me nervous because it opens a whole new realm of possibilities, and each one would impact our future in a different way.”

  “Yeah. I get that.” Holly reached over and topped off my teacup.

  I smiled. “I’m fine, you know.”

  “Oh, I know.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” I added. “In some ways, maybe a full-time job in LA would actually be better for us. He’d be traveling less and it would make it easier to schedule visits to each other. From here to LAX isn’t too far.”

  “True.”

  I glanced around the room, admiring the antiques on display in a built-in hutch along one wall and the detailed woodwork of the house that had been so impeccably maintained over the years. It was almost dizzying to think about the amount of magic that had been housed within the old manor. If these walls could talk … they could probably write enough books to fill the library back at the mansion on Saint Charles Avenue.

  Raymond’s library.

  “Holly, can I ask you a question?”

  She gave me a curious look. “Anytime.”

  “Have you ever heard the term Soul Shepherd, in reference to magic or ghosts, before?”

  “You mean, like a Reaper?”

  I cringed. “I think I prefer Shepherd.”

  “Wait—” she said, her eyes growing wide. “You’re not—”

  Reluctantly, I lowered my chin.

  “Bat wings…” she whispered. “It—it makes sense though. All the pieces.”

  “I met someone in New Orleans. She can read magic, and I guess that’s what she sees when she looks at mine.”

  “A Diviner? Wow. That’s impressive. There aren’t many with that particular gift. There are a few working for the Supernatural Protection Agency. Usually they get stuck reading signatures on potions and other magic items.”

  “Lilah—that’s her name—she gave me a book on the topic before I left. I read it on the plane, but I still have so many questions.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll be much help. The book she gave you is probably the same one I would have studied back in my academy days.”

  “Right.” I bobbed my head, trying to mask my disappointment. Lilah had helped as much as she could but I hadn’t been able to stay long enough to ask all my questions, and by the time I got home late that night, I was more confused than ever.

  “I guess, the thing I’m struggling with the most is figuring out where it all comes from. Magic. This power running through me that’s just as real as the blood in my veins or the sk
in on my bones.”

  Holly held her hands out. “Where does anything come from?”

  I frowned. “That’s not exactly an answer.”

  She smiled softly. “That’s because there isn’t one. Or, at least, not one that everyone can agree on. It’s like the debate between evolution and creation. Everyone has their own theory or belief on how the whole thing got started. Some believe in a higher power—a God or gods—and a specific, thought-out design, and others look to science and the study of the physical, rather than spiritual. It’s the same with magic. Some witches worship the goddess. Vampires have their own folklore and origin stories.”

  “What about you?” I asked. “You’re an elemental witch, that’s what you told me when we met.”

  Holly nodded. “That’s right.”

  “And everyone in your family is also a witch?”

  “Yes. Elemental witches believe our magic comes from the earth. Mother Nature, as some call her. It’s typically passed from the maternal line, from witch to witch. My father also happened to be a wizard, but he wasn’t elemental in nature. My powers came from my mother and her mother before her, tracing all the way back to my great-times-a-million-grandmother Honeysuckle.” With a small smile, she reached up and touched the pendant that always hung around her neck.

  “Well, we can definitely rule out some kind of family lineage for the origin of my magic,” I told her with a frown. “My mother would probably have me committed if she knew I was still hanging onto my so-called imaginary friends, as she called them when I was young.”

  “I’ve never met a Reap—I mean, Soul Shepherd either,” Holly said. “I don’t really know how that magic works. What does it feel like?”

  I drew in a breath, trying to harness the anxieties into a string of words. “Honestly? It feels like chaos right now. According to Lilah, this soul magic has always been there, simmering under the surface. It explains why I’ve been able to see and communicate with ghosts. I’ve lived my whole life with one foot in the spirit world. I just didn’t fully know the extent of it. Actually, I still don’t think I fully know what I’m capable of. It’s new and old all at the same time. But mostly, it’s scary right now. Like staring into a dark cave and not knowing what’s inside. What if the power somehow … takes over?”

  A vision of Raymond flashed behind my eyes when I closed them, and I quickly snapped them back open.

  Holly reached out and placed a hand on my arm. “Scarlet, I’ve had a lot of experience with magic. Both light and dark. And you know what I’ve learned?”

  “Hmm?”

  “It’s not the magic that’s good or bad. It’s the heart of the one wielding it. And that’s why I can sit here beside you and not feel a drop of fear or worry about what you might do or who you might become now that you’ve fully seen your power. You have a good heart, Scarlet. Nothing and no one can change that or take it away. As long as you follow it, you’ll always find your way. You just have to trust yourself.”

  Holly stopped for a moment, a faraway look on her face. “There have been times when I thought life would be easier as a human but in the end, I’m always reminded that because of my power, I have the ability to really help people. Why would I want to trade that?” She paused, her mouth twisted in a thoughtful pout. “I imagine it’s the same with you and the ghosts. I’m sure there are times you wish they weren’t always hanging around, but you have to look back and see how much good you’ve done and how much you’ve been able to help and the peace you’ve been able to bring about, all because of your gift, not in spite of it.”

  I stared down at my hands. The nail polish I’d carefully applied prior to my trip was starting to chip and flake. “In the end, it doesn’t really matter what I want. I have to make the best of the cards I’ve been dealt. I just hope it doesn’t eventually drag me over the line between this life and the next.”

  Holly tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

  “I came to Beechwood Harbor to start a real life, to put down some roots.”

  “And you have!” Holly insisted. “You have a thriving business, new friends, and you have Lucas!”

  I went back to staring at my flaky polish. “For now.”

  “You’re afraid he’s going to leave?”

  I shrugged. “Wouldn’t you? If you were in his shoes? Dating a woman who spends ninety percent of her time talking to invisible people. I mean, come on. How much of that can I really expect him to take? And that’s without even adding in the new complications this whole Shepherd-slash-Reaper thing adds in.”

  “He won’t leave.”

  I peered up at her.

  “At least, not based on everything you’ve told me about it. I mean, Scarlet, let’s face it. If weird stuff chased him off, you two would have parted ways a long time ago.”

  That drew a laugh. “True.”

  “You’re going to figure it out,” Holly said. “And know you always have us here if things ever get out of hand in Ghostville.”

  I laughed. “Thanks. I just might take you up on that offer.”

  “Listen,” she said, straightening. “We’re ordering pizza for dinner tonight. Do you want to stay? I know Posy would love to see you again.”

  I glanced at my watch and then shook my head. “Thanks, but I really can’t. I have a ton of catch-up to do at the shop to get ready for tomorrow.”

  “All right. Let me walk you out.”

  We left the sitting room and rounded the corner into the foyer. Holly opened the front door and I stepped out onto the porch. “Thanks for listening,” I told her.

  “Anytime. I mean it.”

  I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Give everyone my best?”

  “I will.”

  “Thanks again.” I raised a hand and waved before starting down the steps.

  “Scarlet!” Holly called.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s all going to work out,” she said. “I promise.”

  My nose burned and I swallowed the lump that suddenly appeared in my throat. “Thanks.”

  She smiled again and waved one final time before slipping back inside.

  Her words stayed with me as I walked down the hill and back through town to my shop. I’d never had friends who could fully understand me. Anyone who tried to get close would always be held back from a huge portion of my life. Even my family wasn’t able to see who I really was, at least, not entirely. But with Holly, it was different. She could see all sides of me and embraced them. And knowing she had some serious magical firepower if things went sideways didn’t hurt either.

  Now, it was time to reveal the newest part of myself to the other person who mattered the most to me. I could only hope he would be as understanding.

  Chapter 20

  It was half past ten by the time I finished my inventory counts and put in the order for the upcoming week. It was normally a task I could complete in under two hours, but my distracted mind wasn’t cooperating. Every few minutes, my brain broke free of the tethers I’d attempted to secure around it and went racing down all kinds of rabbit trails.

  The printer whirred into life and spat out the order confirmation, and I glanced around the top of my desk for the proper three-ring binder. Frowning, I set the stack of paperwork down and went to look on the bookshelf beside my workspace.

  “Aha!” I tugged the black binder from the shelf and something fell to the floor. I squatted down and then laughed out loud. There, tangled with a stray paperclip, was the compass necklace I’d misplaced right before my trip. “How did you get down here?” I asked the necklace before slipping it over my head.

  I slipped the paperwork into the right section of the binder and put it back on the shelf. There wasn’t anything left to do in the office, but a part of me dreaded going back upstairs alone. I stalled a little longer, but then gave in to my rumbling stomach and hit the lights.

  A knock sounded as I opened the door that concealed the staircase to the upper level that housed my small, one-b
edroom apartment. Frowning, I closed the door and went out front to see who was at the door. That was one perk of having the ghosts around—built in security. I always knew who was waiting on the other side of any door. I kept a baseball bat behind the counter and was about to grab it when I realized it was Lucas standing at the front door of the shop, a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

  He smiled when he saw me and raised a hand to wave.

  I hurried forward and fumbled with the lock before pulling the door open. “Lucas! Oh my gosh! What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in LA?”

  “Hey, I’m a free agent now. I don’t have to be anywhere,” he teased. “I changed my flight. I wanted to see you.”

  My heart fluttered. “We just saw each other yesterday morning.”

  He laughed. “I know.”

  “Come in,” I said, beckoning him inside before gesturing at my outfit. I wore a pair of leggings and a ratty t-shirt from a concert I’d gone to in my high school days. “I’m a total mess. I’ve been down here working half the night.”

  “You look beautiful, as always.” He leaned down and kissed me before offering the flowers. “I guess it’s a little redundant, bringing you flowers when you’re surrounded by them 24/7, but these ones caught my eye at the shop next-door to the café I stopped at to get some coffee before heading out of Seattle.”

  “When did you land?” I asked, hoping he hadn’t spent all day flying only to turn around and drive the three hours from Sea-Tac to Beechwood Harbor.

  “I took a red eye last night,” he said. “I landed this morning, crashed at a hotel in Seattle for a few hours before grabbing a rental car and driving out here. I’m just glad you’re still awake.”

  “Why didn’t you call?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” he asked.

  “Seriously, Lucas. What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  He nodded and took my hand. “We need to talk and I wanted to do it in person.”

  My stomach sank. Did anything good ever follow a conversation starter like that?

  “Okay, well, let’s go upstairs then.”