Vanished
“You break everything you touch. Destroy everyone you love. Why don’t you do us all a favor and disappear for good?”
Prologue
E
Being a ghost has its challenges.
I don’t remember much about my life, or the kind of man I was when I was alive. There are a few tidbits I know, but how I’ve come to know them, I couldn’t tell you. Some of it is instinct.
For example, I know I like women and wine and despise shellfish. Why shellfish? Instinct. Those wiggly things havewaytoo many legs.
Not in my mouth, thank you.
I’ve been a ghost for as long as I can remember, but I’ve had two very different roommates. Despite their refusal to tell me who I was in life, I’ve gleaned some crumbs of knowledge from their reactions to my questions along the way. Devi called me “E.” She really hated me, that one. And I hated her right back—even though she made me constantly hard.
A ghost erection isn’t something you want to deal with. It’s there, and you want to stroke it, but hey, you’re a ghost.
That was my life with Devi, a permanent, maddeningly useless ghost-erection. But I’m back with Mabel for the time being. What a relief.
The two women exchange my lantern back and forth every couple of decades like I’m some kind of odd trinket they have no real need for, and yet can’t get rid of.
Mabel is a much better roommate, but the old witch is cuckoo. Speaks to the wind and prays to the moon like they might actually drop by for dinner. And she watches way too much daytime TV. My ghost brain got fried somewhere between the soap operas and the shopping channel—I’m now an expert on evil twins and vacuum cleaners, but I couldn’t tell you my own name.
So I’m “E,” the amnesiac ghost.
You don’t need to know much more than that to form an opinion of me, because who cares about ghosts, really?
Whoever I was when I was alive, the guy’s dead now. Gone. Buried six feet under.
I was a devil, though. That much is obvious.
Chapter 1
Emergency Meeting
MAX
Agrunt slips past my lips as I brace the rusty iron fence with my foot, balancing five grocery bags between my arms. A muscle cramps in my shoulder, threatening to spark a migraine, but I squeeze past the gate and climb the steps to my childhood home. The steel door creaks behind me as I slip off my gillies, the plush hallway carpet tickling the soles of my bare feet.
What was supposed to be a quick errand has turned into a worrying discovery, followed by an urgent summons from my coven leader. My phone buzzes in my pocket, no doubt a flurry of messages from my fiancé. He’s irritated that I had to cancel our dance rehearsal at the last minute, but I’m more concerned with potential death and mayhem than choreography, at present.
“What’s the emergency, Mabs?” I call into the empty hallway.
A familiar voice booms from the kitchen, “Mabel’s not here yet.” Kerri prances over to me, her freshly done manicure matching her sexy black pantsuit. “Is that how your generation says hello these days?”
Even though we’re both redheads, I’m all pale moonshine and freckles next to her smooth, matte, endless tan. Her blood-red hair falls to her shoulders, slick and thin, while my wild mane has to be tamed into a long French braid or a bun just so I can get out of the house without being mistaken for a drifter.
“Hello, Aunt Kerri,” I say with a sheepish grimace.
“That’s better.”
I extend one arm forward. “Will you help me with these?” The mischievous glint in her eyes prompts me to add a quick, “Please.”
She takes half the bags, and I sigh in relief.
On our way to the kitchen, Lady rubs herself against my legs, nearly tripping me. The tortoiseshell purrs, hungry for attention. I dump the bags on the kitchen island, scoop her up, and scratch that brown spot under her chin that drives her wild, and her yellow eyes flutter shut in bliss.
