Big Ghosts Don’t Cry Page 8

  I went home, had a good old-fashioned freak-out, and then called my boyfriend.

  “I’m kind of wishing it was April 1st, so I could chalk this up as a really twisted April Fool’s prank,” Lucas said when I finished breathlessly recounting the horrible evening to him.

  I snorted through my lingering tears. “Me too.”

  “Whew,” he exhaled. “I’m not sure where to start unpacking everything, to be honest.”

  “That makes two of us.” I sniffed and wiped at my eyes.

  I was lying on my bed staring up at the ceiling, the scene playing out all over again in the shadows. “And what if it’s not enough? Let’s say we can get to the bottom of this thing in time, and then we call her back, tell her what we found out, and then … nothing happens. Then what? I’ve known ghosts who took decades to move on.”

  “Any chance the demon coming through would be the Warner Bros variety, with cute little horns and a tiny red pitchfork?”

  “Considering it has to eat a soul to get through to this world, I’m gonna venture a guess and say no.”

  “Right.” A can of soda or beer cracked open in the background, and Lucas took a drink.

  Alcohol. Yes. Excellent idea.

  “I didn’t even know demons were real,” I scoffed. “Ghosts? Sure. Witches and werewolves and vampires … yeah, apparently that’s all real too. And now, this.”

  “Wait, what?!” Lucas said, clearly spitting some variety of liquid out along with the question.

  I jerked upright and slapped a hand over my mouth.

  No. No, no, nooooo.

  Cringing, I lowered my hand. “Any chance you can pretend I didn’t say that part?”

  “Not a chance! Start talking.”

  “Yes, is there anything I’m not going to screw up today?”

  Flapjack lifted his head from the pillow beside mine. “Well, considering the circumstances, I wasn’t going to say anything, but you forgot my can of tuna.”

  I rolled my eyes and pushed myself out of the bed. “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Scar?” Lucas said. “Witches? Vampires? Werewolves?”

  I supposed it was inevitable that this day would come. It just would have been nice if it could have waited until another time. You know, like when there wasn’t the overhanging threat of a blood-thirsty demon invasion.

  “I was going to tell you,” I started.

  “Uh huh.”

  I slipped from the bedroom and crossed through the small living area to pull a beer from the fridge. Something dark and moody, I decided, running my fingertip along the bottles.

  “I’ve only known for a little while,” I continued, grabbing a bottle. I cracked it open using the opener magnet I kept on the fridge and went to the couch. I folded my legs underneath me and tried to decide how to compact everything I’d learned into a bite-sized lesson.

  “There are a couple of witches here in town. One that I’ve become good friends with. Um, Holly. I’ve probably mentioned her a time or two.”

  “Holly is a witch?” Lucas said.

  I could picture him pacing his apartment, one hand raking through his hair.

  “Yeah. Like bibbity-boppity-boo.”

  Lucas swore.

  “And she had a vampire roommate and her boyfriend is a dog-shifter—”

  “Dog-shifter?”

  “You know, this will go a lot faster if you stop repeating everything I say,” I mumbled.

  “I’m just trying to figure out how this is the first time I’m hearing about any of this. I mean, Scarlet, this is—this is crazy! Please, tell me you’re kidding.”

  I set the bottle of beer aside on the small end table beside me. “I really wish I was.”

  It wasn’t the first time I’d wished I could give my powers away or banish the whole thing to the back of my mind the way Karla clearly had. What would it be like to have a normal life? No ghosts, no magic. Certainly no demons.

  As if it wasn’t bad enough that I had to war with the constant spookiness, now I’d dragged Lucas, a completely innocent bystander, into it. When we’d met, he was ghost-curious and so far, over the course of our relationship, he’d been as understanding and even eager to learn more about my world.

  But this? This was one too many stops down the line on the crazy train express.

  “Lucas, please, can we just forget I even brought it up?”

  “Oh, sure. No problem, Scar. Let me just force wipe it from my mind.” He paused for effect. “Whoop, there, all done. Now, how about them Yankees?”

  I frowned. “All right, point made.”

  “What did they say about all this? Surely, a witch would have some idea of what to do about a rogue demon.”

  “I haven’t talked to Holly yet. You were my first call.”

  He scoffed. “Considering my limited powers and my mere-mortal status, maybe I shouldn’t have been.”

  “Lucas—”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just … well, I don’t know what I am right now. Processing, I guess.”

  I picked at the frayed edge of the afghan hanging over the back of the couch. “Are you still coming into town Friday?”

  Silence.

  My heart sank.

  I’d known one day all the insanity of my life would drive him away. After finding out about my soul magic, I’d just been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sure, he said he’d stick around and that I couldn’t scare him off, but everyone had their limit to what they were willing to put up with.

  Seeing ghosts and constantly having a third, fourth, and fifth wheel to our every waking moment was enough to make anyone run for their life.

  Lucas deserved better. If I weren’t so selfish, I’d have cut him loose myself.

  No. Selfish wasn’t the right word.

  Terrified.

  Not of being alone. Hell, I’d spent most of my life alone.

  No, I was scared of just how much it would hurt to say goodbye to him.

  “I understand if you don’t want to—”

  “Scar, don’t.” His voice was firm but not harsh. “You can’t keep setting me up like that. I told you I’m not going anywhere, and that hasn’t changed. I was actually checking my schedule. I have a meeting tomorrow morning but nothing formally planned for the afternoon. I’ll head out after lunch and be there by dinner. Okay?”

  A lump formed in my throat and I nodded, unable to speak.

  “That is, if you’ll have me an extra day,” he added, a lightness returning to his tone.

  “Of course,” I replied. “I’ll see you then. Come to the shop first. I need to catch up on work since I played hooky today.”

  “You got it. I’ll see you then. Try and get some sleep.”

  “I will.”

  “I love you, Scarlet.”

  My chest squeezed. “I love you, too.”

  * * *

  As it turned out, sleep wasn’t in the cards. After trying herbal tea, a white-noise soundtrack on my phone, and a spritz of lavender-scented perfume across my pillowcases, I gave up the fight, dressed in leggings and a faded old t-shirt, and went downstairs to my studio.

  The whiteboard showed a handful of orders that were waiting to be completed. We were still in the lull before wedding season, and it was fairly easy to keep on top of things, but I needed to work, to do something, before I had another breakdown. I marched to the walk-in cooler and started pulling five-gallon buckets of flowers. Carnations, lilies, daisies, roses, and bundles of hydrangea.

  Flapjack stood on my work table when I lugged out the final bucket. “Little late, isn’t it?”

  I tucked a strand of hair out of my face. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well get some work done.”

  He sat down slowly and wrapped his full tail around his front paws. “You gotta give yourself a break, Scar. You didn’t know.”

  Nodding, I turned to get a vase for the first arrangement. “I know.”

  “So, you’re not down here beating yourself up?”

  I frowned. Fl
apjack’s constant companionship had its drawbacks, chief among them being that he knew me all too well and could pin me down with barely any effort. Though, the constant seafood demands and sarcastic commentary could wear thin too.

  My gaze drifted past him, stopping on the giant overgrown houseplant in the corner. It had started off as a tiny mystery plant I rescued from the market’s clearance rack. Though, looking at it now, you’d think I’d fed it a handful of magic beans.

  Which, I guess in a way, I had.

  Only, I was the source of the magic.

  I still wasn’t sure how it all worked. Holly had given me a book of spells and when I’d been practicing, the plant picked up the magic and went berserk. The darn thing wouldn’t stop growing and I’d had to move it out of my kitchen before its vines reached the floor.

  During my time in New Orleans, I’d met a young woman who’d revealed that I was more than a ghost whisperer and was the one who’d introduced me to the term Soul Shepherd. According to her, my magic held power over the force of life. I could channel the energy of a soul. It was a rare gift and not one I’d ever wished for with a lucky penny, but here it was anyway.

  And now, I’d seen firsthand just what it could do.

  “Lucas is coming into town tomorrow,” I told Flapjack, blinking back into focus. I took the vase to the sink and turned on the tap, waiting for the water to warm a little. “He’ll be here through Monday. So you and Hayward need to be on your best behavior. I don’t want to spend the entire weekend breaking up your bickering matches.”

  Flapjack cocked his head. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this. Seems old stuffed-shirt might be the one you want to talk to. He’s the one who starts it.”

  I scoffed, unable to hold a smile as I shook my head. I filled the vase halfway and took it back to the table. “Where are they, anyway?” I asked, reaching for a handful of boxwood. “I guess we should fill them in on the situation. Lucas will be here and he’s going to help. But it’s an all hands on deck situation, I’d say.”

  “They’re at McNally’s,” Flapjack said. “Karaoke night.”

  I stilled, one sprig of boxwood poised over the vase. “Hayward is singing karaoke?”

  Flapjack snorted. “Would I be sitting here talking to you if he was?”

  “Good point.”

  Once a month, the pub stayed open till 2 a.m. for a town-wide karaoke contest. I’d gone once or twice, and let’s just say that no one in Beechwood Harbor was going to be featured on The Voice anytime soon.

  “Gwen’s in a singing group now,” Flapjack continued. “The Spice Ghouls.”

  “You’re kidding?” I laughed. “Which one is Gwen? Sporty? Baby? Hmm … she’s really more of a Ginger, isn’t she?”

  “They’re all Scary, if you ask me. Believe me, you’re not missing anything. It’s ear-bleedy.”

  “Ear-bleedy?” I raised an eyebrow. “Is that a technical term, conductor?”

  “Do you like cringe-worthy better? Or, maybe, I should say their performance has a certain flee-and-run-in-front-of-a-train quality to it?”

  I laughed. “It can’t be that bad.”

  Flapjack’s whiskers twitched.

  “All I’m saying is that you need to prepare yourself. Because if The Spice Ghouls win this first round of the competition, you’re going to get an invite to sit front-row for the finals.” He gave an irritated flick of his tail and muttered, “at least you have ear canals. You can buy earplugs.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, still grinning. I placed a few more sprigs of boxwood and then went to work cutting down a few long-stem roses to the appropriate length for the vase, working from the tallest point down to create a full, round bouquet.

  “We have to tell them eventually,” I said after weaving a few more roses into the arrangement. “About tonight.”

  “I know,” Flapjack replied, suddenly serious.

  “Are you sure there wasn’t anything useful in the police station? Do you think you could go back again and take a second look? I’m not sure how much more I’ll be able to get out of Chief Lincoln without raising suspicion. From the outside, I have no connection to the case, or even to Sabrina, besides being the one who did her funeral flowers.”

  “I’ll try. Maybe Sturgeon will go with me. He can move papers around, see if there’s something buried in one of the stacks.”

  Sturgeon was one of Gwen’s ghost friends, a former Army sergeant who’d somehow developed the ability to move physical objects in his spirit form. His powers had come in handy a time or two, and snooping around the police station would be the perfect time to ask the grizzled veteran for a favor.

  “I’ll take Lucas and go back to Sabrina’s neighborhood. We might be able to get a broader picture of her life if we chat with a few of the other neighbors. If they’re as tight knit as Barry made it sound, someone might have a lead.”

  Flapjack nodded, but there was a worried droop in his whiskers.

  “We’ll figure it out,” I said, forcing a glimmer of brightness into my tone as I snipped a few inches off a rose stem and sliced off a stray thorn. “We’ve had tougher cases before.”

  Flapjack lifted his brows. “Maybe so, but last time we didn’t have a demon chasing at our heels.”

  I frowned at him and plunked the rose into the vase. “Gee, and here I’d almost forgotten.”

  Chapter 10

  “Of course, we had to do an encore. I mean the crowd demanded it,” Gwen said, grinning from ear to ear as she recounted the glories of her karaoke set the night before. “So, we all got back on stage and we did Spice Up Your Life. It was a big crowd pleaser! Even some of the Lucky Lady gals were singing along!”

  I shot Hayward a glance. “Really?”

  He nodded, beaming with pride at Gwen. “The song was new to me, but quite an ear worm! I’ve been bopping along to it all morning. Quite bouncy!”

  Flapjack snickered. “You should see when he tries to shake his hips. He looks like a geriatric wildebeest.”

  “I’m not sure I can even picture that,” I replied, blinking to clear the images my mind attempted to piece together from the feline’s colorful analogy.

  Hayward, too busy fawning over Gwen, didn’t notice the cat’s insult. Which was for the best. We were on a tight timeline as it was, and their bickering wasn’t going to help anything.

  Lizzie had asked for the day off, so I was able to speak freely with the ghosts as I prepared the shop to open for the day. I’d done an hour and a half the night before and finally fell asleep a little after two-thirty in the morning. I’d cursed my alarm when it had rung four hours later, but had managed to peel myself from under the covers when the smell of fresh brewed coffee floated down the hall.

  Lucas had insisted on buying me a fancy coffee maker when I’d visited him in the city. He claimed it was for his own benefit during his weekend stays at my apartment, which would become more frequent now that he was living three hours away. The machine could do all kinds of tricks, but for the most part, I had it set to brew my vanilla coffee every morning and so far, it seemed to do the trick in getting me out of bed in three rounds or less with the snooze button.

  “All right, enough chit chat,” Flapjack declared. “Scar has something she needs to tell you guys.”

  Hayward and Gwen both looked to me, their smiles fading. “What’s wrong, Scarlet?” Gwen asked.

  “If that Lucas scoundrel broke your heart, I’ll run him through with a—” Hayward paused, his thick mustache twitching in agitation as he appeared to search for the right weapon.

  “A scabbard?” Gwen offered helpfully.

  Flapjack cackled. “A wet noodle, is more like it!”

  Hayward glared at Flapjack, his cheeks puffing out under his spectacles. “It would be some kind of sword!” he promised, still scowling at the cat. Turning to Gwen, he softened. “A scabbard is the holder of the sword, Lady Gwen.”

  “Well either way, I’m sure you’d be very intimidating,” Gwen s
aid in all seriousness.

  Flapjack opened his mouth but I cut him off, drawing my hand quickly along my neck.

  “Oh, fine,” he grumbled.

  “This isn’t about Lucas,” I told Hayward. “And he isn’t a scoundrel.”

  Flapjack rallied, his tail swishing. “He resents him because Gwen thinks he’s hot.”

  I slapped a hand over my face, dragging it down slowly. What possessed me to think I could handle all three of them before 10 a.m.?

  “Flapjack, focus! Demons, remember?” I snapped.

  Gwen and Hayward went still.

  “Lady Scarlet? Did I hear you correctly?”

  “Yes.”

  I drew in a deep breath and laid out the events of the night before, shrinking the debacle into as quick of a story as I could manage without leaving anything important out. Hayward and Gwen’s horror intensified as they listened, hanging on every word until I finished.

  Hayward’s mustache twitched again as his eyes flicked back and forth like an out-of-control typewriter.

  “Poor Sabrina!” Gwen wailed. “She’s really stuck with no one to talk to?”

  “You’d die all over again,” Flapjack muttered under his breath.

  I glowered at him and he buttoned up again.

  “We’re going to set this right, but I’m going to need your help.”

  “You have us assembled!” Hayward boomed. “What shall the first task be?”

  “Why do I feel like we need theme songs and some kind of garment made entirely from Spandex?” Flapjack wondered.

  Gwen shot her hand into the air, wiggling impatiently. “Oooh, can I pick out the costumes?”

  “Yep, it’s official,” Flapjack quipped. “We’re doomed.”

  I shot him a pointed look before turning a more patient expression toward Gwen. “Let’s put a pin in the costume idea for now,” I said. “What I really need is some help getting leads. Do you think you and Hayward could go to Pine Shoals and see if there are any local ghosts? And if so, find out if any of them know anything about Sabrina and what might have happened to her?”

  Hayward raised his gloved hand in a salute. “Oh course, Lady Scarlet!”