Hmm. “What do you want to talk to me about?”
“I’ve been thinking about this whole necromancer thing,” Hopper replied. “I think there’s a reason I died in Hemlock Cove, a place where a powerful witch happens to reside. I’m guessing it’s because I’m supposed to keep offering my services to the people in the area. My story isn’t over yet.”
I was horrified. “You want to keep having sex with people as a therapy? You’re a ghost ... and that’s disgusting.”
Hopper rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh.” I was embarrassed. “Okay, ignore the sex comment.”
“You have a puritanical streak. I find it odd because you’re a witch and Puritans killed witches.”
I wasn’t happy with the direction this conversation was heading. “I hardly think that’s something we should waste time talking about.”
“And I think you’re wrong.” Hopper was firm. “I think that you’re exactly the sort of person who could benefit from what I have to offer.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that you have a lot of emotional issues, and it’s always helpful to discuss those issues with a trained individual. I can help you shed the fear.”
He managed to sound worried and condescending simultaneously. It was an interesting phenomenon. “I’m not fearful.”
“You’ve been fearful since the moment I showed up at the newspaper office.”
“That’s because you told me my disembodied voice ordered you to abandon the afterlife and hang out with me.”
“I think that’s a sign.” Hopper refused to back down. “Think about it. I could hang around and treat people. Sure, I’m a ghost, but you can make it so others can see me. I can keep my house — perhaps you can talk the townsfolk into making it so I don’t have to pay taxes or something — and things could go on exactly as they have been.”
“Oh, sure,” I drawled, dumbfounded disbelief rolling over me. “Ghosts shouldn’t pay taxes. That’s a given.”
Hopper’s eyes gleamed. “Exactly. You’re getting into the spirit of things.”
“Spirit being the operative word.”
“Oh, don’t go getting cranky. It was merely a suggestion.”
I inhaled deeply to calm myself. “Souls aren’t meant to stay on this side after ... well, after they’ve shuffled off the mortal coil. There’s a design to this — life and death — and it’s not wise to break from the design.”
“You have a ghost at The Whistler,” Hopper argued. “You don’t seem to have a problem with her sticking around.”
“Viola? She chose to stay in Hemlock Cove. I’m still not certain why. I think she’s simply not ready to cross over. I’ve tried talking to her about it, but she’s adamant about staying.”
“Why is it okay for her to stay and not me?”
“Because I didn’t force Viola to stay.” Although, now that he mentioned it, I had no idea when my necromancer powers kicked into high gear. I knew when I first noticed them. Viola died several months before that ... and in front of me. I was so traumatized by her shooting that Landon went into protective boyfriend mode and shut me away from the world for hours to make sure I processed things correctly. There was always the chance that the trauma triggered my necromancer abilities and I was the reason Viola opted to stay behind. That was something I would have to consider … but at a later date.
“I don’t care that you forced me to stay,” Hopper argued. “I’m glad it happened. I want to be here. This is my home.”
“This is what you know,” I corrected. “You don’t want to pass on because you’re afraid of what’s on the other side. I get that you’re a pervert and you’re probably worried you don’t have a bright afterlife waiting for you, but I’m sure you can do some penance and arrange for that to happen. I mean ... it’s not as if you’re evil.”
The second the words escaped my mouth I noticed a shift in Hopper’s demeanor. He didn’t cackle maniacally and rub his ethereal hands together, but he did acknowledge the statement. Unfortunately, it was with a smirk.
“Wait a second ... .”
Hopper didn’t allow me to follow my natural train of thought, instead trying to force me to focus on something else. “I believe everything happens for a reason. You’re a witch. That means you believe in karma, right?”
I nodded, my mind moving at a fantastic rate.
“Therefore, it’s important for me to stay here,” Hopper stressed. “I need to remain because this is where I belong. I want to help people. I’m a giver. Hey, who knows? If you get powerful enough maybe you’ll be able to give me another body or something. I mean ... I know that’s down the road, but I’m not sad being here without any way to interact with the living or anything.”
That’s when things clicked into place. Er, well, as close as they were going to get without him filling in the gaps. Realization washed over me in a cool, green wave that left me feeling sick to my stomach … and a bit shaky.
“I didn’t call you.”
Hopper froze at my quiet words. “What are you talking about? Of course you called me. That’s why I’m here.”
“I’m not talking about today. I definitely called you today.”
“Then ... what are you talking about?”
“The day you died.” I worked hard to untangle the crossing threads in my busy brain. “I didn’t call to you. You saw what was waiting for you on the other side and you ran.”
“That is preposterous.” He said the words but couldn’t hide the lie in his eyes.
“No, I’m right.” My anger began building as I rubbed my sweaty palms over my knees. “You understood you wouldn’t be going to a good place, so you stayed behind. I’m not sure how you found me — maybe you were running from whatever was chasing you, or merely wanted to put distance between you and the threshold that terrified you — but somehow you found me.
“Maybe you did hear a voice at that point,” I continued. “I don’t like the idea that my disembodied voice is floating around ordering others what to do, but I don’t believe the story you told the day you appeared is the truth. You stayed behind because you were afraid to cross over, and now you’re trying to manipulate me to keep you here because what’s waiting is worse than living in limbo.”
Hopper didn’t immediately respond. Instead he merely stared. He finally shook his head and raised his eyes to the sky. “Why can’t you just do as I asked? It’s not as if it hurts you.”
“You’re not a good person. I should’ve seen that earlier.” I was talking to myself more than him, but I knew he could hear. “You manipulated those women into sleeping with you, abused your position, and I’m betting you were responsible for a few more immoral deeds. I mean ... why were you seeing Margaret Little?”
“I already told you. I won’t break doctor-patient confidentiality.”
I was sick of that song and dance, and unleashed a flurry of magic, allowing it to barrel into Hopper and causing him to widen his eyes. He wasn’t corporeal. That meant he could walk through walls or things could pass through him without trouble. The magic I sent to rein him in was strong enough to cause physical pain to a body that no longer existed, though, and I wasn’t even mildly sorry when his features twisted.
“What the heck is this?” Hopper’s voice was laced with panic as he struggled. “What did you do to me?”
“I want to know why Mrs. Little was seeing you,” I demanded. “She’s afraid of something. She tried to blackmail us for her file last night. I can’t understand why she was seeing you in the first place.”
“I won’t tell you that!” Hopper gritted his teeth as he fruitlessly struggled against the magical bonds I’d tethered him with. “There’s nothing you can do to make me. My oath is my bond.”
I snorted. “We both know that’s a load of crap. I’m willing to test the theory that there’s nothing I can do to make you talk.”
For the first time, real fear flickered across Hopper’s twisted features.
“What are you going to do?”
“Take control. You had a chance to do the right thing and tried to manipulate me instead. I think it’s time we evened the score.”
“That sounds ... ominous.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
Twenty-Six
I felt empowered after my showdown with Hopper. Not in an evil “I’m going to put you in a sleeping curse to get my own way” empowered, but stronger all the same.
Hopper didn’t answer my questions. He was adamant. That made me realize I was on the right track … yet still unwilling to go full-on evil to get my way. I was essentially a work in progress.
I texted Aunt Tillie and she met me on the bluff shortly before ten. She wasn’t happy about being summoned, but when I informed her of what I wanted she brightened considerably.
“You want me to torture your ghost?” She was almost gleeful as she circled a furious Hopper. He remained trapped in the magic I tethered him with, unable to move. “I can’t believe you finally gave me a gift that’s truly magical. This makes up for all those years you made mugs with Twila and insisted they were good Christmas gifts.”
I scowled. “I was a kid. A coffee mug is a great Christmas gift when you’re a kid. I made it myself, for crying out loud.”
“They were lopsided.”
“Only the first two ... er, four.”
“Whatever.” Aunt Tillie clearly wasn’t in the mood to reminisce. “What is it you’ve done here?” She peered closely at the magical bindings anchoring Hopper to the bluff. “What spell did you use?”
The question caught me off guard. “I didn’t use a spell.”
“What did you do?”
“Um ... I just imagined what I wanted and it kind of happened.”
“Really?” Intrigued, Aunt Tillie extended a finger and poked at the magic. “This is very impressive. I’m guessing it’s because you’re a necromancer and he’s a ghost. Unless ... do you think you could do this with a live human being?”
I didn’t want to even consider that. “No.”
Aunt Tillie met my steady gaze. “Are you sure?”
“No,” I admitted. “I don’t know why it came to me. It just did. He’s being a tool, so I need him to stay here until he decides he’s going to answer my questions.”
“What questions?”
“I want to know why Mrs. Little was seeing him.”
“She’s nuts.”
“There has to be more to it than that.”
“She’s massively nuts.”
I sucked in a calming breath. “This is serious.” I told her about my run-in with Mrs. Little the previous evening, keeping the story succinct. “She’s got her finger in a bunch of different pies,” I finished. “I don’t think that gathering we saw at her store yesterday was a coincidence.”
Aunt Tillie’s brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?”
“Of the people who were there,” I explained, “at least two of them were having sex with this piece of walking garbage.” I sneered at Hopper, which caused him to groan and twist. “Esther was there, and she had ties to Hopper. I don’t think he was treating her, but something else could’ve been going on.”
“What about Tori Corbin? She wasn’t in the sex files.”
“No, but I didn’t pay attention to all the names in the files we didn’t flag,” I admitted. “I’m willing to bet that Tori and her husband were seeing Hopper regularly, too. I’ll have to confirm that with Landon later this afternoon. He’s going above Judge Morton’s head to get the warrant for the files. His daughter, Janet, was definitely having sex with Hopper. We can’t risk going through the files a second time without the proper paperwork in place.”
“Okay.” Aunt Tillie turned thoughtful. “Maybe Janet was the psychopath.”
I didn’t know much about the woman, but it was a decent guess. “It’s a possibility. The other possibility is Melanie Adams. I mean ...why was she there? I definitely would’ve remembered seeing her name in the files.”
“Maybe Margaret simply wants to add her to her cadre of losers,” she suggested. “Margaret likes power. Given Melanie’s relationship with Chief Terry, she could afford Margaret some leverage.”
“I considered that, too,” I admitted. “Mrs. Little complained about Melanie in her own file, but somehow they got over that. There’s a chance Melanie didn’t even know that she was being plotted against.”
“Maybe they worked out a truce.”
“Maybe.”
Aunt Tillie pursed her lips. “You’re going to ask Melanie about it, aren’t you?”
“That seems to be the next logical step. I’d rather confront her than keep questioning her motives.”
“I guess that’s a good idea.” Aunt Tillie said the words but didn’t look convinced. “Be careful, Bay. I don’t know that woman well, but she’s relishing the power she has over Terry. That was clear last night. She thinks she’s won because he went with her.”
“He was her ride.”
“Still ... she feels as if she’s in the power position. When she realizes she’s not — that you’re still nearer and dearer to Terry’s heart — she might not take it well.”
“Do you think she would attack me?”
Aunt Tillie shrugged. “It’s doubtful, but she’s not nearly as sweet and innocent as she wants people to believe.”
“I’m visiting her yoga studio. She wouldn’t dare turn things into a physical confrontation there.”
“Probably not.” Aunt Tillie held my gaze for what felt like a very long time and then smiled. “I can torture the ghost however I want while you’re gone, right? I mean ... can I tell him stories about my childhood and make him look at photo albums?”
“You can get as mean as you want.” I meant it. “I want to know what Mrs. Little was doing under his care. There has to be a reason she was seeing him. Also, I want to know who the psychopath is.” I fixed Hopper with a pointed look. “He might not know who killed him — and I’m on the fence about whether that’s true — but he knows who the psychopath is. He’s not leaving this bluff until he shares the information.”
Aunt Tillie offered a hearty salute. “I’ll get the information if I have to kill him a second time to do it.”
“Good luck.”
“Oh, I don’t need luck.” Aunt Tillie’s eyes gleamed with evil intent as she grinned at Hopper. “I’m the wickedest witch in the Midwest. I have skill.”
I’D NEVER BEEN TO MELANIE’S yoga studio. I was familiar with the building — it used to be a pizza joint, and before that a video store — but she’d put the facility through a massive overhaul. I was determined not to like her, but even I had to admit the space was cute.
She was finishing up with a class — I recognized a few familiar faces in the group — so I loitered at the back of the room until she finished with her demonstration.
At first glance, she seemed amiable. She chatted with her customers as they dispersed, offered them helpful hints and bathed them with compliments about their efforts. She was aware of my presence even though she barely glanced in my direction. She waited until her customers had left before she acknowledged me.
“Well, you’re the last person I expected to see.” She rubbed a towel over her sweaty face as she regarded me. “I was about to make a strawberry smoothie at the bar. Do you want one?”
I followed her gaze to the counter. It was basically a half-moon with eight stools placed around it. “Sure.”
She headed in that direction, keeping distance between us, and slid behind the counter before indicating I should sit on one of the stools. “You’re not allergic to coconut or anything, are you? I use coconut water in the smoothies.”
“I’m not allergic to anything.”
“Well ... great.”
Melanie was the picture of efficiency as she began chopping strawberries. She didn’t seem eager to deepen the conversation, which meant I would have to be the one to speak first.
“So ... about last night.
”
“Yes, that was a lovely evening,” Melanie drawled. “I can’t tell you how happy I was to be part of your happy family last night.”
If she expected me to apologize, she was going to be disappointed. “What did you expect? You tried to get me arrested. They were hardly going to welcome you with open arms.”
“I didn’t try to get you arrested.” Her eyes flashed with impatience, making them greener. “I simply pointed out that your actions yesterday afternoon were not acceptable. I can’t believe that you think they were. Margaret Little ... .”
I held up my hand to still her. “You’re new to town. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt because of that. But we have a long history with Mrs. Little that you’re probably not privy to. I doubt very much she would tell you the whole truth when it comes to her relationship with my family.”
Melanie pursed her lips. Her face was devoid of makeup because she’d been working out, but she was still attractive. That only served to irritate me more.
“Listen, I’m not going to pretend that I’m an expert on Margaret Little. She’s been nothing but nice to me since I landed in town. She invited me to join the Downtown Development Authority. She’s going to help me with my first booth at the spring festival. She’s been warm and welcoming.”
Obviously Melanie didn’t realize that Mrs. Little had been complaining about her to the neighborhood shrink. “Mrs. Little is great at schmoozing people when she wants something,” I agreed. “The second you cross her, she becomes a vicious enemy.”
“And what did you do to cross her?”
“Oh, all manner of things.”
“I prefer specifics.” Melanie tossed the strawberries into the blender, her gaze never moving from my face. “If you expect me to cut ties with this woman, I want a good reason.”
And there was the rub. “I don’t expect you to cut ties with her on my behalf.” That was the truth. “She’s not an easy woman to get along with. Is she evil? There are times I wonder. Still, her dislike of my family is probably warranted. She’s been enemies with Aunt Tillie since they were in grade school.”
Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery Box Set Page 25
