“Where would you like to go?”
“The usual, of course. It’s not like there are many options in this teeny tiny town,” he says, grabbing his backpack off the floor.
I snicker under my breath. He’s certainly not wrong.
“Okay, so I’ll meet you at the Bourbon Room?” I say, shoving my laptop in my backpack.
“How about we ride together? It’s just down the road. I’ll drive,” Wade offers.
I hesitate, wondering if I should insist we drive separately. Against my better judgment I say, “Yeah, okay.”
Ten minutes later, we’re sliding into a booth on the far end of the restaurant. It overlooks a small lake, which glitters in the setting sun.
“So, I’ve been thinking…” Wade says, scrunching his face as he sets his hands down on the table between us.
“Okay?” I say, narrowing my eyes.
“Have you ever seen other ghosts in your house?” he asks.
I give it a moment’s thought and shake my head. “No, I don’t think so. Just Abigail.”
“Does your house have any wards or anything that would have kept them out? Or only let the nice ones in?”
My eyebrows rise, but I shake my head. “I honestly have no idea. I’m hoping to track down my dad. If I get the chance, I’ll ask him.”
Wade nods, but doesn’t say anything at first. His expression twists into one of contemplation. Then, after a moment, he says, “Why do you think it’s been so hard to contact Abigail?”
I shrug. “I don’t know? I guess I sorta just thought it was because of what happened back at the catacombs. Dealing with the Fetch and then inhabiting my body—it took a lot out of her.”
“Yeah, but it’s been almost five months. How long does it take a ghost to recharge?”
I snicker. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
The server walks up, her tablet computer in her hand. “The usual?”
“Yeah, sounds great,” Wade says, nodding.
She starts to spin away, clearly believing Wade spoke for both of us.
Instead, I raise a hand and say, “Actually, I think I’d like something different.”
Wade quirks an eyebrow and leans back.
“Okay, honey. What will it be?” she asks, eyeing me with curiosity.
“Can I look at a menu?”
“A menu?” She says, almost incredulously. “The two of you have been in here at least a dozen times a month for the past year.”
“Please?” I say, smiling serenely.
She rolls her eyes, grabbing a tattered copy from her apron and handing it to me.
I splay it on the table and take a good look. Nothing sounds as good as the usual mushroom and Swiss burger, but I’ll be damned if I eat the same thing as always.
“I think I’ll go with the fish tacos,” I finally reply, closing the menu and handing it back to her.
“Mkay,” she says, snatching it back and whirling around.
When I face Wade again, his eyebrow is arched high and a smirk graces his lips.
“What?” I retort.
“Nothing. That was just…” he says, shrugging. “I think you hurt her feelings.”
“Oh, shut up,” I say, swatting at his hand. “I just felt like something different.”
“Interesting.”
I scrunch my face. “There’s no hidden meaning in there.”
“If you say so,” he laughs, raising his hands like he’s about to be arrested.
“Anyway…” I say, watching him from the side of my eye.
“Anyway,” he repeats.
We both sit there in a moment of awkward silence and I clear my throat. “Where were we?”
“Oh, yeah…” Wade says, dropping his chin and nodding to himself. “Uh—I was thinking about Abigail. Do you think she knows the house is being haunted?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, is she being suppressed by the other energy? Or”—he eyes me intensely and raises a hand to the ceiling—“is she allowing it to happen?”
My eyebrows tug in and I sit back. Surely she wouldn’t allow a malevolent energy to invade the home. She’s never seemed like that kind of ghost.
Granted, my experience with them has still been limited, but it feels right.
But the question does pique my curiosity.
With the new entity in the house, why hasn’t she been around? Could she be in trouble? Or worse…even if she’s not the one haunting the house in a creepy way, could Abigail be letting it happen? And if so, to what end?
Chapter 8
Lucky to Have Found You
As I park Blue in the circular drive, my thoughts are a swarm of frustration, worry, and suspicion. But as I walk up to the front door, the darkness ignites a new concern—one that says I still haven’t pinpointed the source of the new hauntings and I’m not entirely certain how safe it is inside.
Taking a deep breath, I unlock, then push open the front door. It creaks loudly, echoing into the main entryway, announcing my arrival.
Surprisingly, light filters into the entryway before I even flip the light switch. Setting down my backpack next to the staircase, I walk into the dining room, following the light.
“Hello?” I call out.
I wasn’t expecting anyone, but Dad could be home, for all I know. That would be a relief.
As I enter the kitchen, James looks up from the stove. “Ah, Ms. Blackwood. I was hoping I’d catch you this evening.”
“I—uh, I was kinda hoping I’d run into you, too,” I say, smiling.
“Yes, your note. You’ll be pleased to know I’ve been in contact with your father and he plans on returning tomorrow,” James says, stirring some ground meat in a pan.
“That’s fantastic. I have a few…uh, questions I really need to ask him,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “Whatcha making?” I hop on the counter beside him, wrapping my hands around the edge of the granite countertop.
“Breakfast burritos. Your father said you used to be fond of them as a child, so I thought I would whip up a batch to put in the freezer for you. They’re far healthier than those toaster tarts and Red Bull,” he says, shooting me a sideways glance. His soft brown eyes sparkle with a certain knowing that only wisdom in age brings.
“You’re not wrong,” I say, grinning.
It’s actually nice to have
