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Ray looked at me. “You really can’t see it?”
I waved a hand at Nana Pratt. “I can see she’s upset about the supernaturals.”
“It isn’t that simple,” Ray replied. “Imagine Fairhaven is a person, someone you’ve known and loved your whole life, like a parent. Then you die and you discover they had all these secrets they’d kept from you.”
“Like a secret family,” Nana said between sniffles.
“Or an evil twin,” Ray added.
“It makes you question your entire reality,” Nana said. “Was Fairhaven the wonderful place I thought it was, or was I an utter fool to love it as much as I did?”
“Does knowing about supernaturals now change anything about your experience here?” I asked. “Does knowing about vampires or werewolves make your childhood any less magical? Does it make you love the people you knew any less?”
“What if one of them was a vampire and I didn’t know it?” Nana Pratt asked.
“It’s unlikely,” I said. “They tend to keep to their own kind here, I’ve noticed, but even if you found that your favorite hair stylist was actually a werewolf, what difference would it make? She never hurt you. She didn’t howl in your ear while she cut your hair.”
Nana pressed her palm flat against her ear, as though imagining the scenario.
“Accept the life you lived at face value,” I told her. “From what I’ve gathered, it was a good one.”
Nana’s head bobbed. “It was. No complaints, except for losing my own child too soon. If only for Steven and Ashley’s sake, I wish the universe had been kinder to our family.”
“I appreciate you both coming to check on me. Now I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a little privacy.” I’d caught a whiff of my body odor and was glad that ghosts didn’t retain their sense of smell. I hadn’t intended to take a shower, but it seemed my plans would have to change unless I wanted the entire town to get acquainted with my signature scent of death and sweat.
“Sorry for breaking the rules,” Ray said. “Again.” The duo wisely made themselves scarce.
The water ran lukewarm, refusing to increase to a hotter temperature. One more household problem to solve. I showered anyway, thinking about the nightmare in more detail as I washed the sweat from my hair. One thing I felt confident about was that Ashley was still alive. It had been my working assumption from the start, but now I was certain. Dead people don’t have nightmares; I knew this for a fact. Of course, the nightmarecouldbelong to someone else; it wasn’t necessarily Ashley’s, but the evidence weighed heavily in her favor.
As I towel-dried my hair, I glanced at the clock on my phone. It was a reasonable time to drive to Monk’s, although I wasn’t sure what I expected to find there this time around. I didn’t recognize any of the bodies in the nightmare; they seemed more like faceless silhouettes apart from their crimson wounds.
“You’re going out after your fainting spell?” Nana Pratt exclaimed in wonder as I passed her on the bridge.
“It wasn’t a fainting spell. I’m not a Southern belle. I have a lead on Ashley, and I want to follow it up.”
“Then by all means, carry on.” Nana Pratt motioned with her hands for me to keep going. “Is that nice demon gentleman going with you?”
“No. I’m better off handling this on my own.”
Loud music blasted from the open windows of Monk’s. It was a warm night with a clear sky and low humidity, and locals were taking advantage of the beautiful weather by drinking at the outdoor tables. One drunken group was playing cornhole, which seemed to consist of throwing the beanbags at each other’s heads.
I ducked inside and scanned the room. I recalled the details of my nightmare and tried to match any bodies or objects to them. No luck.
I spotted Lyra’s familiar face in the crowd. She seemed to have recovered from her animal encounter. Her hair was styled in neat curls, and she wore a white tank top with material so thin, you could see the leopard print of her bra. She was pounding shots with two guys.
Lyra’s gaze met mine. As I lifted my hand in greeting, she fled. I was so taken aback by her reaction that she made it outside before I caught up with her.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” I grabbed her by the elbow and steered her around the corner, out of sight of the parking lot. “Is your car in danger of turning into a pumpkin?”
She tried to pull away. “Let go of me. What do you think you’re doing?”
“I think you and I need to have a conversation.”
Lyra spat at my shoe and missed. “I don’t need to tell you anything.”
“Oh, so you do have something to tell? I wondered.”
Her face turned a deep shade of plum. “That’s not what I meant.”
