by Elle Adams
“Yes, and she was a murderer to boot.” He grimaced with distaste. “I had to explain to the staff at the retirement home, which should be some relief to poor Dolores’s family.”
“She helped me get rid of Mrs Renner’s ghost in the end,” I said. “I saw her off.”
“I thought it was something like that.” He eyed me. “You didn’t suffer any lasting damage? I worried when you collapsed on me.”
So it had been him who’d caught me after all? Under his gaze, my face heated. “Nah, I guess I was just out of practise using my Reaper skills. And that ghost was a strong one.”
We came within sight of Mrs Renner’s house—or what was left of it. The remains of the manor house had already been cleared away, leaving nothing but an empty space behind.
“The construction crew removed the rubble,” he said. “Mr Renner took most of the furniture that survived in one piece, and that was that.”
I scanned the empty space. “No more ghosts, either.”
Not that the town was in any way a ghost-free zone, but it surprised me how readily I’d grown used to seeing transparent figures on the streets. While they sometimes gave me curious glances, I’d learned my lesson about using warmth spells in public, and now they mostly left me alone.
“I’ll have to take your word for it on that,” said Drew. “Mr Renner gave the land back to the coven so they can build something else there. I get the impression he wanted to leave town as quickly as possible after his appeal failed.”
“Good,” I said. “It’s not like he can blame anyone living for the state of the house, though it shouldn’t surprise me that he tried.”
Drew turned away from the manor house. I was suddenly conscious of how close he was, and my mind went blank for a moment before the obvious question came to mind.
“So,” I said. “A shifter? Really?”
“I’d have thought you’d have guessed,” he said.
“I didn’t peg you for a wizard, but I’ve never met any shifters who work as detectives before.” I grinned.
“I’m surprised you haven’t,” he said. “We have excellent tracking skills.”
I tilted my head. “Go on, tell me what else you’ve been hiding. It’s only fair. You know everything about me.”
“I don’t know everything about you,” he said. “I don’t know, for instance, if you’re going to be staying in town for much longer.”
“I’m fairly sure Carey’s mother was in the middle of offering me a full-time position at the inn when you showed up.”
His brow rose. “In what capacity?”
“Either at the inn or the restaurant,” I said. “I’m still working on long-term plans, as you may have gathered.”
“Like ghost-hunting?” he said. “You have a good track record. Like you said.”
“See what I mean?” I gave him an eye-roll. “You read my entire history.”
“Only the information that was available on the web within the magical world, which isn’t as much as I’d have preferred,” he said. “Have you been living in non-magical towns since you left your coven?”
“Mostly,” I said. “I’m not always a ghost hunter. Not supposed to be, anyway. But if I stay here…”
Two ghosts drifted past. I followed them with my gaze, and Drew did, too, as though he knew I was looking at something he couldn’t see himself.
“If you stay here, you might be obligated to spend more time with ghosts than you would in other places,” he said. “Have you spoken to the Reaper recently?”
“Not since before I went back to Mrs Renner’s place,” I said. “After I confirmed he and Mr Renner weren’t scheming against me. I’m not all that keen to see him again.”
“Any reason?”
I glanced around, spotting Mart’s ghost hovering nearby. He shrugged and made kissy faces when he saw me looking.
I raised my voice. “Aside from the obvious? Yes. He and I had an argument about my twin brother.”
Drew frowned. “Your twin brother? The one who…?”
“Died. Yes.” I jabbed a finger directly at Mart, my heartbeat quickening. “He’s over there. Let’s just say I’m rarely alone, even when I seem to be. Fair warning.”
Drew followed my gaze, and Mart did a ridiculous dance which the detective entirely missed. “His ghost follows you around?”
“You’ve got it,” I said. “Which doesn’t make me very popular with most Reapers. We’re supposed to lay the dead to rest, not bind them to ourselves. But Mart wants to stay, and who am I to say no?”
His expression cleared, as though I’d answered a question he’d been pondering. “So he’s your source of information on ghosts?”
“Occasionally,” I said. “He’s also the reason I can say definitively that any of the reports you might have read on me being responsible for his death are complete nonsense.”
His mouth parted. “The reports I’ve read don’t blame you at all. And nor do I.”
I looked away, my eyes stinging. Even though I’d come to terms with knowing he knew my past, conversations like this were difficult. Always had been.
“I know some of the coven members blamed me for his death,” I murmured, unable to meet his eyes directly. “That’s why I couldn’t stay. Things are… difficult, with the rest of my family. The witch side, anyway.”
“And… the Reaper side?” he asked. “Not my place to judge, but the one thing I know from talking to Harold is that it’s generally frowned upon for a Reaper to have a relationship with a human.”
“Believe me, I’m not conventional and neither is my family,” I said. “I know that much. I also know a career in Reaping is pretty much everything or nothing. Which is why it’s not for me.”
Neither was belonging to a coven, when it came down to it. Not my birth coven, anyway.
But for now? I had a potential new job. I had a place to stay, and I was well on the way to figuring out a way forward rather than treading water for the first time in my life.
“Just kiss him already!” Mart yelled. “Before His Deathliness gets here.”
“Who…?” I looked up, and Drew said, “Speak of the devil.”
The Reaper of all people was walking down the road towards me. While I expected him to accost Drew, he halted in front of me instead.
“I need to talk to you,” he said brusquely. “Alone.”
“I won’t be far away.” Drew’s hand briefly brushed my arm, then he retreated to let the Reaper and I talk in peace.
“Boo!” Mart yelled. The Reaper shot him a glare, and he wilted on the spot.
I stepped between them in case the Reaper decided to get out his scythe after all, but he turned his attention back to me. “You’re staying in town.”
“For now,” I said. “But I’m working at the inn with Carey and her mother. Not as a Reaper. Or a ghost hunter, either.”
I’d expected him to be displeased with my answer, and sure enough, he scowled. “There’s no opting out without consequences. If you’re here, others will follow.”
“I did tell you I wasn’t going to contact the council, didn’t I?” I said. “I won’t risk them penalising me for what I did to keep Mart here with me, and besides, I’m not interested in ending up on their radar again.”
He shook his head. “That may be, but your presence will stir up questions.”
“Like why there’s no Reaper,” I said. “And why the town is the way it is.”
He grunted. “You want the story? You can ask anyone else.”
“I don’t think so.” I looked him in his startlingly blue eyes—his only visible Reaper trait. “You stopped doing your job, and I’d like to know why. I think you owe me the answer.”
He was silent for a moment. Then he spoke. “There was a terrible flood in this town nearly two decades ago. The river overflowed, and the whole town was practically underwater. It happened overnight with nowhere near enough warning, so we couldn’t evacuate.”
“I heard,” I said. “I h
eard that was where Elizabeth Renner and Dolores Malone’s animosity started, as her house was flooded.”
“Everyone was affected,” he said, his voice a low growl. “You can’t even imagine what it would have been like being a Reaper in the middle of a disaster like that. There was no reprieve. No chance to recover. My apprentice and I were worked to the bone. I had to send him out alone more often than I’d have liked. Then he…” He paused. I was silent for a moment, giving him the chance to gather his words.
“My apprentice was one of many who were killed in the aftermath,” he finally said. “It shouldn’t have happened. You should know we’re normally immune to most things which would kill an ordinary person, but the sheer number of souls… it was overwhelming. After that, there were no more Reapers. And the idea of getting all the spirits of those killed and rounding them up… it was too much for me to handle alone.”
“I understand.”
He didn’t say anything else. Nor did he need to. While most people hadn’t mentioned the subject aside from Dolores’s ghost, I didn’t blame the others for not wanting to revisit that painful part of their history.
“As for why I was meeting with Mr Renner,” he added, “his family was affected by the floods, too. He came back here initially with his parents, who owned property here. Including… that house.”
“But his grandmother didn’t want to leave,” I said. “So he left and decided to come back later after she died.”
I’d figured that much out.
He grunted. “Fools, both of them. Word of advice—stay away from the dead in future.”
“Only if they stay away from me.”
Which was debatable. Looking at Mart, who was hovering behind the detective making rabbit ears above his head with his ghostly hands, I couldn’t foresee myself turning my back on the Reapers entirely.
Regardless, it had been a long while since I’d looked forward to tomorrow with an open mind. Ghosts or no ghosts, I was ready to see what Hawkwood Hollow had to offer.
After years of drifting, it was about time for me to start living again.
Thank you for reading!
The story continues in Book 2 of the Reaper Witch Mysteries, coming soon. Preorder here: https://books2read.com/u/m2ZxBd
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About the Author
Elle Adams lives in the middle of England, where she spends most of her time reading an ever-growing mountain of books, planning her next adventure, or writing. Elle's books are humorous mysteries with a paranormal twist, packed with magical mayhem.
She also writes urban and contemporary fantasy novels as Emma L. Adams.
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