Betwixt Read online

  The women thanked her and then turned to leave. Cassie rounded the counter and followed a few steps behind the trio as they made their way out of the coffee shop. It was five minutes past closing, so when they were a little way down the sidewalk, she locked the front door and flipped over the wooden sign to the closed side.

  “Holly, I’m going to get a jump on the payroll. Scarlet, if I don’t see you before Christmas, I hope you have a good one.”

  “Thanks, Cassie.” I smiled. “You too.”

  She twinkled her fingers and then disappeared into the back.

  Holly watched her go and then slowly shifted her gaze to me. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Erm, well, I doubt it. I was wondering how much of a fit my mother would pitch if I copped out and used gift bags this year.”

  Holly giggled but it faded quickly. “Actually, I was thinking about what those mothers were saying. About their kid’s night terrors. What are the odds that three separate kids would have the same nightmare in one night?”

  I took a long sip and shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. If they all talked about it, maybe it was a power-of-suggestion kind of thing.”

  I narrowed my eyes when she didn’t look convinced. “You don’t think it’s a…” I trailed off, glancing at the arched entry to the back room to make sure Cassie wasn’t coming back out. She and Holly were best friends, but she had no idea about Holly’s powers or my own. “A ghost?” I finished, daring a whisper.

  “I don’t know. It seems suspicious.” Holly shifted her gaze to the front window, staring at the snow furling in the pools of light cast by the street lamps.

  Flapjack yawned. “You ask me, some mall Santa went on a bender and wandered through the wrong neighborhood on his way back home.”

  “They said they checked for footprints in the snow outside and didn't find any,” I hurried to point out. “Pretty sure a drunk wouldn't have been so careful.”

  “I think I know what’s going on,” Holly said, meeting my gaze. “Have you ever heard of the Red Snowman?”

  Chapter 2

  The Red Snowman?”

  Holly glanced over her shoulder, ensuring we were still alone. “He’s a little bit of a legend, but his calling card is a rash of nightmares. And he only ever comes out at Christmas time.”

  I held up a hand. “Okay, hold on. What are you talking about? Is he an actual snowman?”

  Holly laughed. “No, no. He’s an elf.”

  “Obviously, Scar,” Flapjack quipped, flicking his tail.

  I scowled at him. “Like you’ve heard of him.”

  I’d been able to see ghosts since I was a child, which had proved to be a gateway into the supernatural world. While I’d never been to one of the concealed supernatural cities, called havens, I knew of them and the host of creatures and stories that came from them. Granted, after spending time with Holly and her household of supernatural friends at the Beechwood Manor, I’d realized that my knowledge was more like seeing the tip of the iceberg.

  “All right, so this Red Snowman, is he dangerous?” I asked Holly, ignoring Flapjack.

  “The story is that he tried to duel with Santa Claus to be King of the North Pole. When he lost, he went on a mission to ruin Christmas for as many children as possible. He invades their dreams, feeding them nightmares and making them afraid of Santa.”

  “That’s horrible!”

  Even Flapjack looked appalled, which was a rarity.

  “With the Christmas season growing longer and longer each year, it gives the Red Snowman more time to spread his poison,” Holly continued. “If he’s here in Beechwood Harbor, we have a chance to stop him!”

  “If he’s so terrible, why hasn’t someone stopped him already?”

  “I’m sure they’ve tried. Santa himself likely has elves on the case.”

  My head spun. Even with my supernatural knowledge, I guess I’d still somehow slipped Santa into the make-believe category. Apparently, that had been a mistake.

  “Great. Just what I need.” I sighed heavily and leaned into the counter. “Is it so much to ask that all ancient elves on a power trip leave us alone until after my parents are back in Arizona?”

  Holly started. “Oh, right! Your parents are coming in. Bat wings.”

  “Scar usually uses stronger words for it.” Flapjack snorted.

  I scowled at him, but couldn’t argue. He was right. Since they’d announced their plans to visit me, I’d been on edge. I should have seen it coming, especially as their only child, but when they hadn’t made the trip for Thanksgiving, I’d figured I’d make it through the holiday season unscathed.

  Holly tapped a finger against her lips. “Tell you what, I’ll see what Posy’s up to tonight, but maybe you could recruit some of your ghost friends. They can keep an eye on things around town and alert us if they see Red.”

  “Sure. Organizing a supernatural neighborhood watch should be a snap with my overbearing mother helicoptering over my every move.”

  “Right. They don’t know about the whole ghost thing.”

  I laughed, the sound hollow. “Yeah, I stopped trying to convince them that Flapjack here was a real ghost back when I was nine. I’d probably be living in a nice, padded cell right now if I’d kept at it.”

  Holly cringed. “What time do they get in? Are you driving to Sea-Tac tonight?”

  “No. I just got back from Seattle actually.” I looked up at the clock on the wall. My cleaning hours were rapidly shrinking away. “They’re flying in on a private jet to the airfield up in Copalis.”

  Holly let out a low whistle. “Fancy.”

  “They’ll be here at seven-thirty tomorrow morning.”

  “Got it.” Her green eyes shifted back and forth as she considered our options, reminding me of one of those kitschy Felix the Cat clocks.

  I pushed away from the counter, resigning myself to leaving the warm coffee house. “Tell you what, I’ll get Gwen to call an emergency meeting. Can you come to my apartment after you’re done here?”

  “Sure,” Holly agreed. “I’ll be done here in a little while and then I’m off work until after Christmas anyway. Granted, I have a list of potions to make for my Last-Minute Lucy customers.”

  I smiled. “Speaking of…”

  She cocked her hip. “You too?”

  “I just need something for sleeping,” I said, pressing my palms together.

  “Easy enough.” She backtracked a few steps and grabbed an eggplant-purple purse from the set of hooks in the hallway. She rummaged through for a few moments, her eyes focused on the bright green satin lining of the bag, and then came up with two small vials pinched between her fingers. “My last two! But they’re all yours.”

  “You’re a lifesaver!” I exclaimed as she dropped them into my cupped hands. “How much do I owe you?”

  Holly flapped a hand. “On the house. I’m always happy to help my friends.”

  I grinned, a streak of mischief tugging at the edges. “Technically, the potions aren’t for me…”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  Flapjack flicked his tail, his once-blue eyes gleaming as he looked up at me. “You’re going to dose your mother. Aren’t you?”

  Heat crept over my cheeks, but I didn’t deny it. “Only if she really gets on my nerves. A few drops in her after-dinner green tea and I’ll be able to get some time to myself.”

  Flapjack snorted as he lifted his gaze to Holly. “You might want to make a fresh batch. I have a feeling two vials aren’t going to be enough to get her through the next week.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Any chance you know someone who is dying to get a mouthy ghost-cat for Christmas this year? I happen to be willing to part with one.”

  Holly giggled at the scowl on Flapjack’s face. Disgruntled, he launched off the counter and stalked toward the door, his tail twitching at the tip.

  When he was gone, Holly smiled at me. “He’s something else, isn’t he?”

  I
sighed. “I just wish I knew what.”

  ***

  My shop, Lily Pond Floral Designs was only a quick drive from the coffee house, so within minutes of leaving Holly, I was hauling bags up the back stairs to my apartment, taking slow, careful steps to avoid slipping on the ice-encrusted wood. There was a second staircase inside, but I didn’t want to track through my retail space in my wet boots. I’d had the floors refinished before Thanksgiving and was still babying them. The plastic handles of my multiple shopping bags dug into my wrists and I let out a sigh of relief when I finally dumped everything onto the couch.

  Flapjack was already inside, pestering Hayward—formally known as Sir Hayward Kensington III. “Where’s your ghoul-friend? Scar needs to talk to her.”

  “Flapjack,” I warned.

  Hayward looked at me. “Good evening, Lady Scarlet! It looks as though your expedition was quite prosperous!” He surveyed the pile of bag and the packages overflowing from them and lifted his thick brows. “Quite prosperous indeed.”

  I reached for the paper bags that were from the grocery store and hauled them across the small apartment to the kitchen. I shoved aside a peppermint-stripe candy dish and plopped the bags onto the counter. I didn’t have quite the flair for design that my mother has, but I indulged in a few decorations this time of year.

  “Hello, Hayward.” I put away a carton of eggs and crossed back to get a bag of frozen green beans. I cringed as I chucked it into the freezer, making a mental note to take the trash out before I started cooking. My mother would be horrified if she knew the produce was frozen, not fresh. And she definitely couldn’t find out that the apple pie wasn’t homemade…

  “I think I’ve got most everything. The challenge is going to be wrapping it all when I really need to start cleaning this place.” I paused my unpacking and drew in a haggard sigh. “Oh, and on top of that, there’s some kind of Christmas gremlin running around the neighborhood, scaring children.”

  “Oh my!” Hayward jolted so hard he nearly lost his formal top hat. He’d died at the Vienna Opera House during the encore—he’d been so moved by the performance, he’d lost his footing and toppled right out of his prominent balcony, three floors up. He’d been cutting a dashing figure through the afterlife ever since.

  “That’s why she needs to see your paranormal paramour,” Flapjack teased.

  I shot him a glare. “Are you done yet?”

  “Oh, not even close.”

  Scoffing, I rolled my eyes. “Well, while you think up more clever nicknames, how about you make yourself useful and go find Gwen and help round up the others. See if Sturgeon’s available. He’s always good in a pinch.”

  Flapjack twitched his tail, pausing just long enough that I thought he was about to argue, but then he hopped off the couch and sailed right through the carpeted floor when he landed.

  “Sorry about him,” I told Hayward, folding up a paper bag and depositing it in the cupboard below the sink for reuse later. “He’s especially annoying this time of year. Somehow all the extra merriment and joy floating around only makes him snarlier. It’s a phenomenon for sure.”

  Hayward joined me in the kitchen, wearing a serene smile. “Oh, it’s quite all right, Lady Scarlet. Actually, I’ve recently heard a little riddle I can use to get him back. Would you like to hear it?”

  “Erm, sure?”

  He leaned in conspiratorially, grinning like a mad hatter. “What do you call a cat on the beach at Christmastime?”

  “I—uh … I don’t know.”

  “Sandy Claws!” he bellowed before breaking into rumbling laughter.

  “Oh, Hayward.”

  “What? Isn’t it clever?”

  I shook my head.

  “Drafts,” Hayward said.

  “Besides, if you start trying to fire back, you’ll only encourage him,” I added, putting away two loaves of bread. “Trust me, it’s best to ignore him.”

  “Hmm. Perhaps you’re right, milady.” Hayward floated from the kitchen, slightly crestfallen. He swirled around, his formal coattails fanning behind him. “Now, tell me about this gremlin.”

  “Ugh. I don’t know very much about him. Or if that’s even what we’re dealing with.” I paused, frowning at how easily I’d inserted myself into the problem. It was my curse in life; the inability to stay away from the strange and curious. I figured that’s how I ended up with Flapjack following me around for the better part of the last two and a half decades. If that isn’t some kind of curse, then I don’t know what is.

  I put away the last couple of bags of groceries and left the kitchen. “Anyway, there are some children in the neighborhood who are suffering from nightmares about Santa Claus. Holly says it sounds like this elf that goes by the name Red Snowman.”

  “That’s not very intimidating, is it?” Hayward replied, his mustache bristling.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is that Holly wants to try to stop him while he’s here in town, so I need all the ghosts Gwen can enlist to search for him. Have you seen her today?”

  “No, milady.” Hayward looked down at his gloved hands.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “In truth, I’ve been avoiding her.”

  I cocked my head. “Why?”

  He met my eyes. “I got her something for Christmas, but don’t know how to—well, how to present it to her.”

  My brows knit together. “You got her an actual gift?”

  Hayward reached into his formal jacket and fished in the breast pocket. It was a strange sight, considering all of him was borderline transparent: his attire, skin, and hair were all the same fuzzy silver-purple hue. He produced a sparkling necklace, the color of starlight with a solitary heart-shaped pendent.

  I pressed my hands against my mouth and stifled a gasp.

  Hayward flinched and retracted the necklace. “Do you think it’s too—”

  “It’s perfect!” I whispered. Lowering my hands, I leaned in closer to inspect the delicate pendent. “I’ve never seen anything like this, Hayward. Where on earth did you find it?”

  “Sturgeon introduced me to a ghost jeweler. I’m not entirely sure how it works, but he assured me that Gwen would indeed be able to wear it, as she would have in life.”

  I reached out, intending to touch it, but my fingers passed right through and the familiar cold rush surged through me, as though I’d made contact with a ghost. “Wow!”

  “Will you help me find a way to show her?”

  “Of course!” I glanced up at the wooden clock on the kitchen counter beside my Portuguese Word-of-the-Day calendar. “I’m sure Flapjack will be back soon. He usually knows where to find her. Listen, I need to get this place cleaned up, but I promise that I’ll help you find a good time to present Gwen with her gift.”

  “Thank you, Lady Scarlet.” He slipped the necklace back into his pocket and headed for the door. “I’ll go out and make sure Flapjack is staying on task.”

  I smiled. “You’re going to tell him the Sandy Claws joke, aren’t you?”

  Hayward quirked his eyebrows. “I simply cannot help myself, milady.”

  With that, he disappeared through the front door.

  I laughed softly to myself and then sprang into action. My mother would no doubt find out about the bakery-bought pie and the frozen green beans, but there was no way I was going to let her find a speck of dust on any surface of my apartment.

  Chapter 3

  Flapjack and Hayward returned with Gwen and half a dozen other ghosts in tow an hour later. It never ceased to amaze me how well-connected Gwen was around town. As the harbor’s resident gossip-hound, she knew everyone—both the living and the not-so-much—and managed to keep me updated on everything going on in the small community. Whether I wanted to be or not.

  Still, for all her oversharing, she was downright useful, especially in a crisis, and volunteered to be my head ringleader (AKA ghost wrangler). I’d learned long ago that when dealing with needy spirits, it was best to keep regular o
ffice hours.

  “This is so exciting!” Gwen exclaimed, swirling around the Christmas tree I’d barely managed to get up and decorated two nights before. “I just love Christmastime, don’t you, Scarlet?”

  Despite the sheer exhaustion of working non-stop long days, the stress over my parents’ impending visit, and the seasonal money crunch, I couldn’t help but pause and take a moment to appreciate the glittering tree and the fragile ornaments dancing in the lights. It had to be some kind of deeply-rooted magic, intertwined with the season itself, that had the power to draw everyone to the wonder and joy, even amidst the chaos it often brought with it.

  “I do,” I answered Gwen, returning her warm smile. “What do you normally do on the actual day?”

  As much as I enjoyed her company, I’d asked that she spread the word that I was not to be disturbed on Christmas Day. Even Hayward and Flapjack were on strict orders to make other plans. It was awkward enough ignoring them when I was at work and had customers or Lizzie buzzing around. Ignoring them at home, with my parents there, would be nearly impossible. My mother’s internal radar was finely tuned to my every move and I knew there was no chance I’d avoid her notice entirely if my eyes kept zooming to one ghost or another.

  “Holly has invited us to a special dinner at the Beechwood Manor!” she answered, smiling dreamily at the twinkling star at the top of the tree. “Most of the ghosts around town will be there.”

  Everyone in residence at the Beechwood Manor was a supernatural being; a witch, vampire, shifter, and of course, Posy the landlady was a ghost herself. It was the perfect place for ghosts to have a party.

  “That sounds like fun. I wish I could go, too.” I frowned, then remembered the vial of sleeping potion in the pocket of my jeans and smiled again. “You know, I think I’ll try to stop by.”

  Gwen clapped her hands together, though it produced no sound. “That would be so fun, Scarlet!”

  My eyes darted across the room to Hayward, who was smiling at Gwen while she wasn’t looking. I made a mental note to ask if he wouldn’t mind waiting to present Gwen with her gift until I got to the party. I’d waited a long time for him to finally make his intentions known, and I didn’t want to miss a moment.