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I thought about all the spirits I’d dealt with in my life. “You said other things have been happening. Give me some examples.” I didn’t want to implant suggestions in their heads, so I left the question open-ended.
Georgie stirred her coffee. “I thought I saw a man looking over my shoulder at me, in the mirror. I screamed but when I turned around, there was no one there. He looked angry.”
“Johnny has also had a couple encounters,” Darla added. “He keeps thinking something is in his closet. I have to get his clothes out for him, he’s so scared of opening the door. He also said he saw the door open on its own.”
“Mary told me that something grabbed her ankle the other night and tried to pull her off the bed,” Georgie said. “I didn’t know what to say, so I told her that if she wanted to, she could come sleep in my bed. We share a room.”
“What?You didn’t tell me that,” Darla said, her eyes widening.
“We all know how rough things are around the house right now—the kids can tell. They’re not stupid. She asked me to keep it a secret because she’s afraid that Kevin will yell at her and call her stupid.” Georgie crossed her arms, frowning. “He never used to do that.”
“Never used to do what?” I asked. “Yell at you?”
“Kevin was always supportive of us,” Georgie said. “But now, he calls us stupid or useless. Mary and Johnny do their best to avoid him. They still love him, but they’re afraid of him. So they talk to me.”
“Why notme?” Darla asked.
“Becauseyou’retrying to spare them. You always tell them everything’s going to be fine, and theyknowit’s not fine. They know there’s something in that house.” Georgie shrugged. “They aren’t stupid, just scared.”
Darla blushed lightly. She ducked her head. “Will you come over to our house and see what’s going on? We just want things to go back to normal.”
Bree stared at me, an expectant look on her face.
I took a sip of my latte and then nodded. “I’ll do my best. When would be the best time? I’d prefer to work at night when there’s less interference with the spirit world.”
“Kevin’s not going to like it,” Darla said, frowning. “Wait! He goes bowling on Wednesday nights. Can you come over tomorrow night? He’s usually gone from around seven until eleven.”
“That will work,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Give me your name and number, please.” As I took down her information, I thought this would be a good case to start out my business with.
* * *
Breeand I decided to stop at the street fair after our meeting with Georgie and Darla. The fair was like a farmers market on steroids. Artists had joined the produce and meat vendors, and while the fair took up all of one block—on both sides of the street, as well as down the middle of it—there was plenty to choose from.
I was craving fresh vegetables, and there were plenty to be had. I wasn’t that interested in the jewelry vendors—not because I didn’t like jewelry, but because my mind was running over what Darla and Georgie had told me. I picked through the vegetables, buying several cucumbers, a big bag of tomatoes, some carrots, a bag of red potatoes, and a flat of strawberries.
“Did you want some honey?” Bree asked as we crossed through the aisles of vendors.
The Gig Harbor BeeMan sold his honey here, along with a couple other smaller beekeepers. It was raw, with bits of honeycomb in it, and I had developed a taste for it.
I bought a quart of it, and Bree bought some refined honey and a few of his beeswax candles. We then stopped at the Cookie Lady’s stall. She made huge cookies, in a dozen different kinds, and I bought three of her chocolate peanut-butter chip cookies. Each one was five inches in diameter. She also sold cinnamon and pecan rolls, and fresh bread, so I bought a loaf of her French bread, while Bree bought a half-dozen pecan rolls. The Cookie Lady was tall and sturdy, with long blond braids and she wore maxi-skirts and tank tops. Nobody knew what her real name was. We all called her Cookie.
As we were nearing the end of the street, I spotted one of the flower merchants. “Look, they have the first batches of hyacinths.” I bought a big bouquet and buried my face in them as we turned around. “I love the scent—”
The next thing I knew, I was on the ground with all my purchases. My honey jar had broken and was running a sticky mess on the street. Bree was leaning over me.
“Are you all right?”
I nodded, flustered, not sure of what had happened. “I…what the hell?”
It was then that I noticed a tall man standing to one side, scowling at me. He had honey on his shirt. “Watch where you’re going,witch,” he said. It was then that I noticed his scent—like cloves. He smelled good, but there was something beneath the surface…Oh good gods, he was awolfshifter. I knew that scent, because it came out like skunk spray when they were irritated. It was musky and dry.
I scrambled to my feet. “It takes two to tango, you know,” I said, scowling back. Bree was picking up the rest of my purchases, but the flowers were also a casualty. They’d been crushed when I fell. I’d landed on them. “Look what you did to my hydrangeas and my honey!”
“If you’d been looking where you were going, you wouldn’t have run into me. You ruined my shirt,” the man said. “I suppose you’re going to deny that it was your fault?”
I glared at him, unable to look away.
He had long brown hair, pulled back in a ponytail, and eyes so dark they were like midnight coffee. I couldn’t help but notice that he was also muscled beneath the T-shirt he was wearing. Snug jeans and a pair of hiking boots completed the outfit. I placed him about thirty-five or more, but it was impossible to tell for sure, given that shifters lived longer than humans or magic-blood.
