Page 55 of The Devil and His Ghost

My smile widened at the sight of her disdain. Bethelma hated anything with fur, scales, or really just a pulse. Unless it was herself. I nearly revealed that the thing she hated most was sitting on her head, but poor Catsper didn’t deserve to be swatted at, even if her rampage would go right through him.

Ghosts might’ve been unable to feel physical pain, but they still had feelings.

While the sun was still up, Alex went to set up spiritual equipment that was rigged to go off or spell out certain words and phrases around the inn. I was left with Bethelma as my only company, though Catsper’s fascination with the woman’s gaudy hair adornments and clothes made it a little less awful than usual.

“Did the network let you know about the change in the schedule?” Bethelma asked.

I was in the middle of checking the live feed that was coming into the computer from the cameras I’d set up when her words gave me pause. I looked back at her. “No. What change?”

“We were supposed to leave here and head to Colorado to film at a hotel, but the place had a massive plumbing failure that flooded the whole first floor with everything imaginable. So they’ve set up a surprise live show here in New York City instead. We’ll be going there after this, and since it’s a one night live show, you’ll have the following three days off.”

Live shows were a pain. I had to basically stalk people within the audience before the show began, hoping to find someone who had an attachment. I had to quickly interview said spirit for information without getting caught and get that back to Bethelma to “read” during the show. It was fucking stressful. Especially when audience members thought to ask something I hadn’t considered asking beforehand.

I basically had to hold ghosts hostage in the wings of the stage during the whole thing, which often failed. The ghosts would try drifting away, because they wanted to see their loved one’s reaction to whatever they were saying. It was like trying to wrangle toddlers in a toy store. Not to mention, if anyone noticed the clear earpiece in Bethelma’s ear, which I spoke to her through, questions would undoubtedly arise.

But today, the news didn’t frustrate me like it usually did.

New York City.

It was where I’d lived when I first got out of Mountview.

It was where Xander lived.

I knew our time was coming to an end, but … maybe the demon and I could spend a few more days together after all.

I WATCHED THE LIVE CAMERA feed, though I wasn’t really paying too much attention. Since there weren’t actually ghosts here, there wasn’t really a need for me to monitor the live footage in order to alert Alex and Bethelma to the appearance and ongoings of any spirits. I glanced at the time on my phone. It was ten minutes shy of 2 a.m. We were probably going to call it here soon, as Bethelma often did. She merely pretended to stay at locations all night when she really only filmed enough for the edit and post team to splice and tweak into an hour long show.

“Have any ghosts come out to play?”

My lips twitched with the threat of a smile as the deep timber of Xander’s voice fell right above my ear. His presence leaning over the back of my chair was palpable.

Without turning around, I answered, “It’s been a spiritual madhouse. Can’t you tell from Bethelma’s state right now?”

On screen, Bethelma was trembling and shaking her head as she muttered about feeling a mischievous presence in the corner of the room that she and Alex were filming in. A trickster spirit, she claimed, that couldn’t cause real harm but liked messing with people.

“I could make an appearance. Show her what a real trickster entity is like.”

My grin finally widened, and I turned my head toward him. Xander’s fanged smile was hovering above me, and those golden demon eyes were beautiful crescents as he looked down at me. One clawed hand rested on the back of the chair and the other on the armrest. If I lifted myself even slightly, I could close the gap between our faces.

But of course, I kept myself firmly seated.

“How was your concert?” I asked him, taking in the fitted band t-shirt he wore with his ripped jeans.

“Awesome,” he answered.

He flopped down in the chair beside mine, and his eyes raked over me, settling on Nightly, who I’d propped in my seat at my back. I had his wings wrapped around my shoulders like a blanket. Xander gave a small, almost silent, laugh.

“The place was sold out tonight,” he continued. “Tomorrow night’s show is, too.”

“Are you tired after this morning’s TV appearance and then your concert prep and show?”

He propped his elbow on the desk and rested his cheek on his clawed fist. “Nah. Quite the opposite actually.” He gestured at the feed on the screens in front of us. “What time is this over?”

“Probably soon. Whenever they’re done, they’ll go to a hotel in the city. Bethelma doesn’t like staying at the haunted locations, even if they aren’t actually haunted. I’ll stay the night here again.”

“Where are you off to next?”

“Actually,” I began with a forced nonchalance, “we’re staying in New York. Bethelma has a live show tomorrow in the city, and after that, we get a rare three days off.” The last part of my statement came out almost like a suggestion, question, and invitation all wrapped into one.