Between the one-story buildings on the other side of the road, I caught a glimpse of the white sandy beach beyond them.
Come play, Daphne.
Back home, it was much colder than this and possibly raining.
Things were strange here, yes, but if I were honest, it didn’t feel dangerous.
Whether I left now or stayed till the end of my vacation, I’d be none the wiser about the existence of supernatural creatures when I got home. But if I stuck it out here, I’d be safe from Pharma-Douche, more relaxed, and probably somewhat tanner.
I thought about Sister Elenor’s comment about everyone being so delightful. The Sisters certainly were. So were Portia from the ferry and her cute son, Austin. And the vampire doctor with a good sense of humor.
Then there was Travis, of course, with his wolfish yellow eyes. But I wouldn’t exactly call him delightful. No, that didn’t quite describe him. More like dangerously hot, to be exact. And very much engaged.
After a bit more soul-searching and one more latte, I made my decision.
I was staying.
I checked into the hotel a short time later and took a long, luxurious bath with one of the bath bombs I’d had the foresight to pack. As I soaked in the swirling orange and pink water, the stress and tension from the Craziest Day Ever slipped away.
Had Scully and Mulder made any headway in the case? Except for the strange book that I’d tucked into the bottom of my bag, my life back there seemed like a world away.
When I was sufficiently pruned-up, I wrapped myself in a thick hotel robe and left the well-appointed bathroom with itsclawfoot tub and waterfall-like faucets. I grabbed a piece of cheese from the tray of food that had been waiting in my room upon my arrival and strode into the large bedroom. A cool ocean breeze stirred the gauzy curtains framing the French doors to the small patio. Paintings by a local artist hung on the walls. A cozy book nook filled one corner and yes, I’d found a few books I wanted to read. No wonder Mrs. Baker had fond memories of this place. They really did treat you like royalty here.
Speaking of kings, George was stretched out on the humongous bed as if he owned the place.
“Are you having fun, mister?” I scooped him into my arms and snuggled him. He instantly started to purr. My boy could be a cantankerous kitty sometimes, but he wasmycantankerous kitty, and I loved him to pieces.
At check-in, I had tried not to act shocked when the desk clerk mentioned having an animal whisperer on staff. She explained how cat charms had been placed around my villa so George could explore outside but not go too far. This was shaping up to be quite a unique vacation for both of us.
While audibly kissing the top of his head, something I could only do for a short time before he got pissed off, I noticed that a piece of paper had been slipped under my door during my soak in the tub.
I stooped to pick it up and nearly choked. This had to be a mistake—a terrible, awful mistake.
It was tomorrow’s itinerary—for Date-A-Wolf contestants.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Daphne
At breakfast the next morning, I wasted no time tracking down the contest organizer, an attractive woman named Jada. She wore a floral print skirt and cowboy boots—a look I loved but not one I could pull off myself. She also had high cheekbones, a kind smile and a large day planner tucked under her arm.
“I’m afraid there’s a problem,” I said, pulling her aside.
“Why? What’s wrong?” Her tone was genuine, but not overly concerned. Like a mother talking to a child who was upset because the seams on her socks were bothering her.
I glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “I’m human and didn’t know about—” I gestured wildly “—any of this until I got to the island yesterday.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
As I blurted it all out to her, Jada couldn’t have looked more stunned than if I’d slapped her across the face with a wet fish.
She rifled through her planner, then poked her finger at oneof the washi-tape adorned pages. “It says right here that you’re a spirit medium.”
It was my turn to be completely shell-shocked, and not just because this woman’s planner pages were works of art. “A spirit medium? As in, I see dead people?”
She nodded apprehensively, a nervous smile creasing her face. “You do, don’t you?”
I had no idea what she was talking about. “I’ve never seen a dead person. And I hope I never do. I’m just a regular, run-of-the-mill human, I’m afraid.”
