by Tee, Marian
Table of Contents
You Had Me At Boo (The Midlife Goddess, #2)
You Had Me at Boo
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Author's Note
A Season of Gods & Witches
Mr. Hell, Meet Ms. Haunted
I was once a 38-year-old ghost...until the Fates hurled me back to the land of the living, minus my bounty hunter boyfriend from Hell.
My name is Saoirse Sullivan. I used to be a successful make-up artist, and I used to date a handsome and successful banker named Jason. But then he cheated on me, a nerve in my brain ruptured, and I went into a coma.
When I woke up, I had turned forty without remembering being thirty-nine.
My ex is still with the nubile itch he left me for, and my new boss turned out to be the doctor responsible for making her melons permanently perky and, um, sweet.
Also, I can see ghosts now, and the newest bogey in the block is demanding justice from her murderer...who may or may not be the gorgeous guy next door...I've just had a one-morning stand with.
Midlife crises are supposed to be all about fear of loneliness and boredom, so how is it that my life got crazy good (and bad) when I joined the forty-and-up club?
Note: Books in this series are written as standalones. They're a cross between fast-paced paranormal mysteries and adult romantic comedies. Expect ghostly troubles, tongue-in-cheek humor, and supernatural murders to solve.
This book is set in the same world as A Season of Gods and Witches, so yes, all of your favorite Greek gods and goddesses exist here, too.
You Had Me at Boo
By Marian Tee writing as Alice Bloome
(The Midlife Goddess #2)
Copyright 2020 by Streak Digital Publishing
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Prologue
Eunomia, the Goddess of Law, was hard at work in the judge's bench when the double doors of the Olympian High Court slowly started to open on its own. Such a thing only happened when an expected visitor was to come, and a frown creased the goddess' forehead. Was it time then?
She pulled a drawer open and rifled through the scrolls until she found what she was looking for.
Let's see now...
Its locking knot unwound with a magical snap of Eunomia's fingers, the scroll of parchment rolled down from her hold, just in time for the goddess to watch letters in red ink appearing one by one - a real-time recording as events unfolded in the world below.
On the first of July, the Aspirant comes into consciousness, her soul returning to its original body.
Eunomia had just finished rolling the scroll back to a close when a gentleman crossed the threshold of her courtroom. His features were austerely handsome, and he wore his power like second skin - invisible but ever-simmering, and so tremendously dangerous people who thought to cross him did so at their own peril.
Eunomia, not the one to disrespect fellow immortals, descended from her seat to meet her visitor halfway.
"Hades."
"Eunomia."
Both spoke briefly but courteously, with neither of them the type to waste time on trivialities.
Eunomia handed him the scroll. "Now that the Aspirant is awake, here are the rules that the Moirai decreed you must be bound to."
The Lord of the Underworld
Is not to use his powers in aid of the Aspirant
Is not to wield his influence over his subjects in aid of the Aspirant
Is not to reveal his prior connection to the Aspirant until the test has been completed
Hades only nodded. "Any other rules?"
"The Moirai has enlisted Zetes, son of the North Wind, to serve as watcher."
"A spy, you mean," Hades said coldly.
"A watcher," Eunomia repeated firmly, "to ensure that no rules are broken. The watcher's testimony will prevent anyone from questioning the Aspirant's completion of the test—-"
"The Moirai can send a battalion of watchers for all I care," Hades dismissed. "She will pass this test, and once she does..."
Eunomia inclined her head in acknowledgment. "The Fates always keep their word. If the Aspirant passes her test, she shall be recognized as the new Lady of the Underworld."
Chapter One
Everyone called her 'Nana', she told me. She was silver-haired and sturdily built, like that granny who was lucky enough to have Tweety Bird as pet. She even had the same adorably dorky pair of glasses, and it went rather well with the polka-dot blouse she wore under her white coat. It must be her favorite, too, since I never saw her wearing anything else.
Nana had been keeping me company since I came out of my coma, always ready to lend an ear even to my silliest gripes. Jon killed Danaerys, and Bran is king? Oh! Come! On!
And to Nana's credit, she had respected my very legit grief as I shed tears over the death of my favorite Game of Thrones character. Khaleesis were supposed to rule the world, dammit.
But...anyway, moving on.
Nana was also the only one who cared to tell me things that my other doctors preferred not speak of, like the fact that the blood samples they've taken from me had consistently yielded the same results: a never-before-seen abnormal mutation which could be interpreted in one or two ways.
The half-cup-full diagnosis: the mutation might be the possible reason behind my unprecedented recovery.
The half-cup-empty version: the mutation could eventually kill me.
(All things considered, I get why they'd rather shut up about it.)
Another thing that Nana alone had the guts to tell me was the unvarnished truth about my personal life. My douchebag of an ex had only cared to visit me once, and the last person to check on me was a high school friend who lived out of state..and that was six months ago.
I know that should've made me feel like the saddest loser in town, but when I thought about how I had also been a human vegetable for two-plus years before being given a second chance in life...
"It kinda puts things in perspective, doesn't it?"
Nana nodded agreeably. "It does, indeed."
It was my last night in Roger Hills, and Nana and I were celebrating my discharge with mocktails (I was banned from drinking alcohol until the doctors could figure what went right - or wrong - with me). Nana's chilled concoction had spinach and lemons mixed with half a glass of soda. Didn't make any gastronomic sense, but I appreciated it all the same. It couldn't have been easy for Nana to sneak these drinks past the nurse station.
'Want another one?" Nana asked.
"Yes, please." Nana refilled my glass, and as soon as she turned away to refill hers, I knocked the whole thing back with a single swig. That was the trick with all things you didn't want to taste, you guys. Have it go down your throat fast enough, and anything you've swallowed down might as well have been air.
"Do you plan on going back to work as soon as you're out?" Nana asked as she settled back in her seat.
"That's the plan," I confirmed. "But I'm not holding my breath about getting my old job back."
"How can they not want you back?" Nana fumed. "Didn't you say you were one of the most in-demand makeup artists before?"
"Before being the operative word."
"You had an aneurysm, not amnesia," the older woman scoffed. "Don't these folks know the difference?"
I loved how Nana sounded so offended on my behalf, but it also made my heart ache the tiniest bit. If my parents hadn't died in 9/11, I had a feeling Mom would be just like Nana, who was like a gentle Mama bear...until she thought one of her cubs needed defending, and that's when she'd turn into a terrifying old grizzly.
"It's okay, Nana. Image is everything in the business I'm in - or was. My clients were mostly models and celebrities, and they can't be "cool" if their makeup artist is being touted as a has-been who's been dumped by her boyfriend for a 25-year-old itch."
Nana laughed. "That's how you think of her?"
"At least it's not the B word," I said a little defensively. "And she was an itch he should've had the decency not to scratch while he was still with me." If he had just broken up with me first, I would've respected him so much more. But instead, Jason had thought he could get away with infidelity.
"He looked rather broken though," Nana offered hesitantly, "when he visited you."
Naturally, I couldn't help thinking. Jason had suffered from some kind of midlife crisis while we were together, and he had been stupid enough to think Alicia was the cure for it. Instead, she was the biggest mistake of his life, and I rather suspected he realized this when he thought I was on my deathbed.
"If he asks you back..."
I was already shaking my head before Nana even finished her question. "Nope." I could forgive him if he asked for it, but that was that. "He's the past, and I'm all about the present—-"
Nana raised a brow when I suddenly stopped speaking. "What is it?"
"There is one thing that bothers me a little, and I know it's shallow, but I can't help thinking how much it sucks, that my last memory before waking up in this hospital was me being in my late thirties. And now I'm forty, and I can't even remember how it was to be thirty-nine—-"
"It's nothing to feel bad about," Nana joked. "Being thirty-nine is quite overrated."
I couldn't help laughing at that. "Oh, Nan." She always did know the right thing to say, and I was incredibly grateful for it.
"But truly, dear—-" Nana peered at me curiously. "Does being forty truly feel that bad?"
"Well..." I chewed on my lip thoughtfully. "I guess, it only started to bother me when I finally went online, and I saw my inbox flooded with get-well-soon messages."
"Isn't that a good thing?"
"It would've been if it were just that, but it wasn't. They all - I do mean all - started the same way, saying that they were so happy that I woke up. But after that..." I gave Nana a sour look. "They all launched into these well-meaning warnings, saying that they hope and pray I'd find the right man soon and have babies, because that's what life is all about."
"And you don't think it is?"
"I just hate it," I couldn't help sulking. "They made it seem like a woman can't afford to be single and forty if she doesn't belong to a particular income bracket. It just makes me...grrrr."
Nana burst into laughter. "I have never heard anyone literally say 'grr' before."
"But you can see why it makes my blood boil, right?"
"I certainly do," Nana said wryly, "since I was also in the same boat, once upon a time. I was a career woman before the term was even coined, and back in my day, people thought this odd. They believed only their definition of happiness mattered, and everyone else got it wrong."
"Exactly! And do you know - I tried looking up self-help books for women who just hit the big four-oh, and all of the bestsellers I saw were for married women in their forties. I mean, seriously. What is up with that? Am I unimportant just because I didn't choose to rent out my womb to unborn babies?"
"Of course not, dear."
"I just feel like the whole world's written me off, Nana, and all because I'm not your typical forty year old."
Nana gave me a sympathetic smile. "Just let them be, dear. It's your life, and you must live it as you see fit. Never let other people dictate your actions. That was my mistake, you know, and I ended up letting my whole life go to waste—-"
"Aww, Nana." It broke my heart to hear her speak like that. "You've got to practice what you preach, and think positive, too. Your life is far from over—-" I saw Nana blinking as if I had suddenly blurted out today's winning numbers for the lottery.
"Oh, my dear." Nana had a rueful expression on her face. "I thought you already knew."
My brows furrowed. "Knew what?"
"I'm already dead."
FIRST IMPRESSIONS ALWAYS last. I've always believed in that. Lived and swore by it, too, and that was probably why, when the shock finally wore off, I had found the truth rather easy to adjust to.
I can see ghosts now.
It should've frightened me out of my wits, and I supposed it did...for a while. But because this was Nana we were talking about, who was so motherly and cuddly-sweet, it was impossible to stay scared, just impossible, even after seeing Nana - in an attempt to prove her ghostly existence - float out of her chair and pass through the walls.
If it had been any other ghost doing that, the sight would've likely made me pee in my hospital gown, and it wouldn't have had anything to do with stress incontinence caused by perimenopause.
But again, because this was Nana...
As the lovely Jasmine put it, A Whole New World was all about having a fantastic point of view, and thanks to Nana's revelation, my point of view now included more than one dimension. It just blew my mind, that this other world existed alongside ours, and ninety-nine percent of us would go on living their lives without ever being aware of it!
Nana and I talked nonstop that night, with the woman formerly known as Miss Constance Day giving me the 411 on all things paranormal. Ghosts, for instance, were just like humans in the sense that while there were mostly good ones among them, there were also a few rotten apples in between. There were smart ones and stupid ones, too, along with ghosts who could only scream and scream and ghosts who weren't even aware they were dead.
Although ghosts who had been "around" for some time were capable of discerning which humans could see them, Nana demonstrated a couple of tricks I could use, just in case I'd rather avoid drawing their attention.
"But the one ghost that you must steer clear of at all costs," Nana warned, "is the Man in Black."
"Like Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones?"
Nana was exasperated. "Seriously, child."
"I was joking." Actually I wasn't, but no point letting her know that, right?
"He's not the kind to joke about," Nana said admonishingly. "Truth be told, none of us are even sure he's a ghost."
I shifted in my bed uneasily. "Is he a poltergeist then?" In a scale of zero to Hitler, poltergeists were supposedly at the very top of the list (read: the worst kind of evil), right alongside ghosts suffering from demonic possession.
"No one knows, child. All we know is that he's one to be feared."
Demon then, I thought with a gulp. Nana was a bit of an agnostic, so demons weren't even "real" for her. But for someone like me who had gone the Catholic route from kindergarten to university? Demons were a whole different kind of scary, and I don't think I'd ever be able to handle them.
"How do I know if it's the Man in Black I'm seeing?" I asked worriedly. "Is he the only ghost in black?"
Nana shook her head. "He's a strange and powerful being. You don't really see him—-"
What does that even mean?
"But you can feel he's there, and once you do—-"
I held my breath.
"Hide," Nana said simply. "It's the only thing we can do when he's nearby, and it wouldn't hurt if you did the same thing, too."
Chapter Two
One month later
"You've got mail," sang
the eight-year-old girl who liked to hang out on my window sill, legs dangling off the edge. Since we were thirteen stories above ground, it absolutely wasn't the definition of safe. But since the kid also happened to be a ghost (date of death circa 1969)...
"How many times do I have to tell you not to read my emails?" I swiped my iPhone from her hand before throwing myself on the couch. I've been home for a month now, and thanks to my newfound abilities, I had somehow ended up babysitting the prettiest little dead girl with a penchant for snooping around my private life.
Mary Priscilla rolled her eyes. "I just read the subject line, big deal."
"Still invasion of privacy."
"Well, sue me."
Horrible little brat. Why was I still putting up with this pint-sized smartass? If I had known she'd be this annoying, I would have pretended not to see anything amiss, the first time she showed up on my window sill.
I could still remember how she had freaked me out that day, with her bloodstained teeth and her neck bent at an odd angle. The memory was enough to make me shiver, but when I also thought about how someone could be so evil as to kill a little girl by pushing her out of the window...
Right.
Now I remembered why I was letting this girl have the run of my home, and I quickly tried to distract myself by clicking the unopened mail waiting in my inbox. There was nothing Mary Priscilla hated more than seeing me sad over her murder, which she kept insisting she had already gotten over.
I wasn't sure I believed her, though. I mean, she was still here, so finding her killer must be her unfinished business. Or at least that was how it seemed to me, but then again...what did I know?
Either way, it was best not to think much about bringing the girl's killer to justice, who was likely to be just as dead as Mary Priscilla.
"Have you read the email yet?"
I hastily pulled myself out of my thoughts before Mary Priscilla could guess what I had been thinking about. "Um...no, not yet." I snapped my gaze back to my email, skimming its contents—-
