Page 47 of Tall, Dark and Haunted

Chapter Twenty-One

Rhiannon

Cheerseruptaroundus. First from the coven as they complete their spell and start to celebrate. Then from the rest of the town’s residents, who have gathered on Main Street to watch the town get transported back to the United States—leaving Margam Castle where it was always meant to be. In Wales.

“My bakery is back,” the redhead, Mini, shouts from across the street as she does a happy dance with the tiny mouse in her hand.

But no one looks happier than the other ex-ghosts—like us—who were all killed by the poacher, and now have a second chance at life. Some still look like they stepped out of another century—long, thick gowns for the women, and top hats, sideburns, and mustaches for the men—while others have opted for makeovers and are sporting jeans, t-shirts, and new haircuts, like my men.

“We did it!” Davy grins, pulling me closer. His gaze drifts to the sky, a prayer of thanks on his lips.

“Juniper did it,” I correct with a smile.

“We did.” Red plants a kiss on my lips.

“We all did it,” Topher says, pulling me out of Red’s arms and kissing me within an inch of my life.

My breath is coming out in pants when Davy takes Topher’s place. His tongue slips into my mouth, and I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him close. I feel arms around my waist, and by his scent, I can tell that it is Red holding me from behind. He grinds his hard bulge against my arse, and the deputy mayor gives a pointed cough.

“Don’t make me have you arrested for public indecency,” she says.

“She means get a room,” Juniper, who’s standing next to her, says. “I can help you out with some toys, if you want the action in that room to be more exciting. Can I recommend the rabbit dildo for ultimate clitoral stimulation?”

“She already has a rabbit,” Davy says, taking offense.

“How about the Bob? He’s a popular model.”

“That would be great,” Topher says absently as he gazes into my eyes. I’m not sure if he’s agreeing to the dildos or the room, or both. Given the year he died, he might not even know what a dildo is. Or what a Bob is, for that matter. Even I’m not sure about the Bob.

“We don’t have a room,” Davy says. “We don’t have any place to go.”

“We can get that sorted,” the deputy mayor says. “Ghostly resurrection may be rare, but it’s in the handbook. There are provisions for this.

“It will be a lot more difficult to get IDs for those of you who died before there were computers, but we can do it. And seeing as how your body is still in the morgue, Miss Scott, we can have your life status altered in the records almost immediately. It doesn’t take much to magically hide a body, and we can say the rest of it was a publicity stunt with special effects.”

I don’t bother to ask how she knows my name. This fame stuff is weird. Everyone and I mean everyone is talking about me. Famous for dying in the most peculiar way.

“Thank you.” It seems a little strange to be thanking someone for hiding my dead body. And it doesn’t help that I get the feeling that she’s hidden a body before. But now that she’s no longer trying to kill us, I give her a smile.

“You’re very welcome,” she says with a genuine smile that tells me she’s probably quite pleasant when she’s not doing an unpleasant job. Like trying to kill us.

“That solves the problem of the IDs,” Topher says, “but we don’t have any money. Perhaps we can all get jobs?”

I gulp. Not because we don’t have any money, but because I do. Or at least, I will once my life status has been changed. My paintings sold for a fortune after I died. Naked. In a fountain.

“I need to use the phone,” I say. It’s time that I call my parents and tell them that I’m okay.

I considered doing it last night, but I didn’t want to give them false hope. And I knew that if I heard their voice, I’d break down in tears. I didn’t want that to be their last memory of me, begging for help—help they couldn’t give. But now, I can give them the good news.

“Can I borrow someone’s mobile?” I ask.

“Someone’s what?” The whole crowd is looking at me like I’ve just spoken gobbledygook. Then again, I guess I’m going to have to get used to it now that I’m in America.

“Cell phone?” I clarify.

I borrow a phone from the nearest person—who happens to be Amber from Jewels Cafe—and move away from my mates so they can’t overhear.

“Hi, Mum,” I say apprehensively. “It’s me, Rhiannon.”