When Good Ghosts Get the Blues

by Danielle Garrett

  I smiled. “Lucky us.”

  He lifted my hand and brushed a kiss to my knuckles. “I certainly think so.”

  A woman at the counter called out Lucas’s name, and he jumped up to go retrieve our order. I watched him cross the room, swerving around a neighboring table, and then stopping to pick up a dropped napkin. He smiled and exchanged a few words with the small child who’d lost the napkin before stepping up to the counter, where the barista handed him two plates.

  And he thinks he’s the lucky one.

  It wasn’t the first time a thought like that skittered across my mind. There was rarely a day when I didn’t feel the need to pinch myself and make sure I hadn’t dreamed the tall, muscled, sandy blonde-haired man into existence.

  He returned to the table and took his seat before handing me a plate piled high with roasted red potatoes and a mound of scrambled eggs. I took it and breathed deeply of the savory scents before setting the plate in front of me. “Thank you.”

  “Dig in,” he said, passing me a fork.

  We took our first few bites and then Lucas glanced up at me. “I was just thinking how it’s weird that I feel like I know Flapjack and Hayward, even though I’ve never met them before.”

  I cocked my head. “They’re both a little like that wacky college roommate everyone seems to have. They’re never actually around, but they star in a dozen stories about the good old days.”

  “Exactly,” he said, still rumbling with laughter. “Well, except for the part where they’re never around. With those two, they’re kind of always around.”

  “Not this week,” I said, brushing my thumb over his knuckles. “No ghosts, no hijinx, no problems.”

  Lucas glanced down at his coffee. “Let’s hope I can hold up my end of that bargain.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, my fork hovering between my plate and mouth.

  He flashed a boyish grin. “Well, to answer your earlier question, the Carters haven’t reported any strange happenings, but the word around town is that the hotel they’re renovating was once quite the hotbed of paranormal activity.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  He chuckled and stabbed his fork at a piece of melon on the side of his plate. “Just keep a bag of salt handy. That’s all I’m saying.”

  I sighed. “I never leave home without it.”

  Chapter 2

  The morning evaporated over multiple cups of rich coffee and sweet pastries as we walked the streets, stopping at every bakery and cafe we came across. Apparently, eating our way through New Orleans was a shared aspiration. Our hands remained intertwined as we wandered the side streets, pointing out architecture details and art pieces we came across. It was my second time to the magnetic city, but the experience was completely different with Lucas at my side.

  As the morning turned to afternoon, I realized I could likely retrace my steps all across the globe and see everything with a new perspective with him as my companion. What once would have been thoughts in my own head turned into full conversations and a shared sense of wide-eyed wonder.

  Of course, I wouldn’t trade away those years of solo adventures. I’d learned who I was and what it was I wanted out of life. All in my own time and on my own terms. But things were changing around me. I could feel a shift. A new restlessness. The travel bug was gnawing on me and it was surprisingly easy to fit Lucas into my dreams for new adventures.

  “I love the Garden District, but there’s nothing like the French Quarter,” I said, smiling at the burst of color and music as we stepped off the streetcar we’d been riding most of the afternoon. What should have been a forty-five-minute trek took well over three hours as we got off at nearly every stop to explore another pocket of the city.

  “It’s going to be tough to leave for the next location,” Lucas said as we ambled around a corner and found another brightly colored street ready to tell us its secrets. “I’m not sure that Topeka is really going to have the same flavor.”

  I smiled. “Ya never know. It might have its own joie de vie.”

  He didn’t look convinced.

  Laughing, I leaned into him. “You could always come back to Beechwood. There’s rarely a dull moment.”

  “That’s for sure,” he said, laughing as he looped an arm around my waist.

  “It’s actually been quiet since your last visit. I’ve had a few cranky ghosts, but nothing like Kimberly or Rosie,” I mused, snuggling into his side.

  “Those two will be hard to beat, I imagine.”

  “Here’s hoping.”

  Halfway down the street, we paused in front of a curiosity shop boasting an array of crystals, tarot cards, and masquerade-style masks in the front window. I considered the sign hanging above the door—Madame Firefly’s Mirror of Truth: Readings Daily.

  “Should we go in?” I asked, tugging on Lucas’s arm. “See what the future has in store?”

  He smiled at me. “Do you believe in that kind of thing? I mean, I guess it kind of goes along with the ghost thing, but—”

  I pointed up at one of the signs, grinning. “She has a mirror of truth. That has to be legit, right?”

  “Is that a yes, then?” He chuckled.

  “I don’t know,” I replied, shrugging.

  Six months ago, I probably would have brushed it off as a gag. A party trick. But then I’d met Holly Boldt, a witch who lived in Beechwood Harbor in a house full of supernatural roomies. Over the years, ghosts told me of encounters with creatures … or beings … from another realm. But it hadn’t been until Holly that I’d had any firsthand experience, and now there was no way to deny there was a whole lot more going on under the thin veneer most people called reality.

  Then there was the gigantic vine growing like a well-watered weed in my kitchen.

  Before leaving for the trip, I’d temporarily lost my mind and decided that seeing ghosts wasn’t quite strange enough for me and dabbled with a book of spells. Botanical spells, to be exact. The next morning, I woke up with a plant that looked like it was trying to give Jack’s beanstalk a run for its money. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself it was thanks to the southern exposure and humidity levels in my apartment, I knew it was magic. The spell had worked, and according to Holly, that would only have occurred if I had my own magical mojo.

  I knew I had to tell Lucas about it, but the first day of our trip hardly seemed the time. Still, maybe a quick look through a paranormal bookstore would make for a good prepper.

  “Come on,” I said, tugging on Lucas’s hand. “What could it hurt?”

  Lucas hitched a shoulder, mirroring my shrug, and pulled the door open for me. “After you.”

  A soft tinkling sound welcomed us into the shop. Despite the neatly curated window display, the interior of the shop was something of a mess. Overstuffed bookcases served as display cases, with no obvious system as to what belonged where. One corner had a trio of cases filled with books, some horizontal, others vertical. Still others were placed with their gilded edges sticking out and the spines shoved to face the back of the case itself. Crystals and precious stones littered every single inch of free space. A large table showcased an extensive line of herbal ointments and concoctions with homemade-looking labels. Mismatched end tables littered the room, overflowing with baskets of knick-knacks and trinkets.

  The air was fragrant with a musky incense and around the room, different holders were currently burning slender sticks. The lighting was low and almost fuzzy, though that could have been in part thanks to the smoke.

  “Guess we know what happens when Hocus Pocus meets Hoarders,” Lucas said, keeping his voice in a low whisper.

  I giggled but broke off when a woman appeared from the shadowy back room and greeted us with a serene smile. “Good evening, seekers.”

  Seekers? Yeah … okay.

  “I’m Madame Firefly,” she continued. “I’m the proprietor of this shop. Everything you see has been hand curated. I also offer tarot readings and host weekly séances.”r />
  “Evening.” Lucas held up a hand in an almost-wave. “It looks like you have a lot of interesting things here.”

  Emphasis on a lot.

  “Is there something I can help you find?” she asked, her voice filmy.

  “I think we’re mostly just browsing,” Lucas replied, settling one hand on my waist.

  “Very well,” she replied, a note of skepticism in her tone.

  “See anything you like?” Lucas asked, gesturing at a display of moonstone jewelry. “The blue ones are pretty,” he added, gesturing at a pair of star-shaped earrings.

  I nodded. “I’ve always liked moonstones. I think it was the ancient Romans who thought they were magically formed fragments of moonlight that rained down from the night sky. I always liked that imagery.”

  “They’re protective over childbearing,” Madame Firefly suggested from her place at the center of the shop.

  I frowned and looked down at myself. Sure, I’d probably eaten half my body weight in French pastries since touching down early that morning, but I certainly didn’t look with child. Did I?

  Lucas laughed, the sound strained. “Well, I don’t think we have to worry about that anytime soon, but that’s good to know.”

  “I could tell you exactly what the future has in store for you,” she said. “If Tarot cards aren’t your fancy, we could consult my mirror of truth. The mirror can see through your clouded aura.”

  Clouded aura? What the—

  “Come forward,” Madame Firefly said, beckoning us closer. “You may call me Marla. And your names are… ?”

  I glanced up at her and found her dark eyes glittering with anticipation. Her painted-red lips were curled back in an almost lupine manner. Why was she so desperate for our attention? We were the only ones in the shop and I wondered if maybe we’d been the only patrons all day. A personalized reading likely carried a hefty price tag, and she thought she’d just landed two meal tickets.

  Before I could find a way to extract us from her attention, a bell jangled, and a young woman pushed through the door into the shop. She wore artfully ripped jeans and a tight black tank top. Stacks of bangles wound up both wrists, and an obsidian pendant hung around her throat. Her dark hair hung to her shoulders, a curtain of tight curls. She held a phone in her hands and didn’t glance up until she nearly crashed into Lucas.

  “Oh, sorry,” she muttered, sidestepping him on her way toward the counter where Marla stood.

  Marla’s eyes narrowed. “Lilah, surely you can see we have guests,” she said, her tone frosty as she gave Lucas and me a pointed look.

  The woman looked up again. She looked around my age, maybe a few years younger, in her mid-twenties. Her dark skin was flawless and didn’t appear made-up save for a ring of dark eyeliner and some shiny gloss on her lips.

  “This is my daughter, Delilah Firefly,” Marla told us, still shooting daggers at her daughter.

  Lilah rolled her eyes.

  “Would you like her to do a reading for you? She’s very skilled at discerning what the cards have to say about your future. She could see just when to expect a bundle of joy. Or, perhaps a diamond ring, if that’s what you’re waiting on,” Marla continued, giving my left hand a meaningful look.

  My cheeks warmed and I fought the urge to suck in my overstuffed stomach. “You know, we really appreciate the offer, but I actually prefer keeping a little mystery in my life.”

  Lilah looked relieved and turned her attention back to her phone.

  “Maybe we’ll stop by another day,” I told her, threading my arm through Lucas’s. “But, right now, we should probably get going. Our reservations are soon, right babe?”

  He checked his watch and then nodded. “We can get a drink while we wait.”

  Marla inclined her head, her shrewd eyes studying me. She raised a hand to her throat, her oval fingernails the same shade as her lipstick. Her skin was lighter than her daughter’s, more olive in tone, but just as clear and unlined. I wouldn’t have guessed her old enough to have a child in her late twenties.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a necklace,” she asked. “It appears that you’re missing yours.”

  Automatically, I reached up when her gaze dropped to my throat. “How did you—”

  Marla smiled.

  My stomach flip-flopped and I glanced up at Lucas. “I’m really sorry, but I lost the necklace you got for me. I wanted to wear it down here, but I couldn’t find it, and I was in such a hurry to leave.”

  Lucas took my hand and squeezed it. “Don’t worry about it, Scarlet. I’m sure you’ll find it when you get home.”

  “I could look into the past and tell you where it was left,” Marla offered helpfully.

  Lucas took my hand and we shuffled toward the door. “I don’t think that will be necessary, but thank you for your time, really. We, uh, enjoyed our visit.”

  Marla paused, her eyes narrowing in my direction for a moment, before she gave a slow nod of her head. “Peace and blessings.”

  Lucas tipped his chin and then took my hand and led me back into the cool, fresh air.

  Once the door closed behind us, I shimmied my shoulders, trying to banish the heebie-jeebies. “That was so weird!”

  Lucas chuckled and shook his head. “She was persistent,” he said. “I’ll give her credit for that.”

  “Desperate, is more like it,” I added, glancing through the glass door back into the shop. Lilah had joined her mother behind the counter and it appeared the two were arguing. I winced, somehow feeling responsible for getting the girl in trouble. “I guess she’s not used to being turned down.”

  “What made you change your mind about getting a reading?” Lucas asked, not noticing the scene unfolding inside. “You seemed willing before we went inside.”

  I shook my head and dragged my attention away from the shop. “I don’t know. The vibe was wrong, I guess. Something felt off.”

  “Weird that she knew about your necklace, huh?” Lucas said. “You think maybe she was legit?”

  Marla’s dark eyes reappeared in the back of my mind. Had they seen something? Or was I just being paranoid because I couldn’t stop thinking about the magical-steroid-popping plant taking over my kitchen. For all I knew, I’d need a weed whacker to get through my front door by the time I got home.

  “It was just silly,” I said. “It’s all pretend. She’s probably some kind of mentalist. Maybe I was fidgeting because I was feeling guilty about the missing necklace while looking at that moonstone one and she took a guess.”

  “Fair enough.” He halfway shrugged and then glanced at me, his expression curious. “So, you really don’t believe in that stuff? Even though you can see and talk to ghosts?”

  I bristled and looked both ways. “Geez. You want to say that any louder? I mean, I’m enjoying my time her in New Orleans, but I don’t feel the need to extend my trip with a 51-50 psych hold.”

  Lucas laughed and looped an arm around my waist. “I’d never let them take you.”

  I shot him a scowl, but couldn’t keep it in place. He really was too handsome. It wasn’t fair. His hair was longer than the last time I’d seen him, but still barely long enough to run my fingers through. He pulled it off though. With his chiseled face, strong jaw, and sun-tanned skin he looked like a model. Granted, a model that was somehow always prepared to repel from a helicopter.

  “Glad to know you’ll fight off the men with the butterfly nets,” I told him, my voice wry.

  He laughed and brushed my lips with a quick kiss.

  “As to your question,” I said, blinking to clear the momentary stars from my eyes, “I’m not ruling out that there are legitimate mediums or psychics or seers out there, but I’d need more proof to make a final decision.”

  We passed a large vertical garden and the tips of my fingers itched to brush over the foliage. I bit down on the insides of my cheeks and sharply corrected myself. That damn plant came back into my mind and I wanted to tear my hair out. You’re not a witc
h, Scarlet. You’re just rapidly going insane!

  It wasn’t magic. It was the top-dollar plant food I’d been feeding it over the last month. It must have compounded and finally caught up … That made sense. Didn’t it?

  I could almost hear Flapjack’s mocking tone as the doubts surged back.

  Yeah. Right, Scar. It was the plant food.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing to get carted off to the psych ward.

  “Come on,” I said, taking his hand and walking away from the storefront. “All I need to know about the future is that it includes a pot of steamed clams and endless buttered biscuits with honey.”

  Lucas laughed and pointed ahead. “Then you’re in luck. I lined up a table for us with a view of the water.”

  I smiled and felt the waves of anxiety start to recede. “Lead the way!”

  Chapter 3

  “You getting ready to tap out for the night?” Lucas teased when we left the restaurant after a three-course dinner.

  The bottle of wine we’d split was tugging on my shoulder, reminding me that in-flight sleep was no match for real, in-a-bed sleep. Even with all the extra leg room in first class. The hours I’d dozed off during the overnight flight weren’t proving to have much staying power, especially after we’d spent the entire day running around New Orleans.

  I swayed a little on the sidewalk and then threaded my arm through his for balance. “I’ve still got some fight left in me. We haven’t had dessert yet, after all.”

  “What do you call that Crème Brûlée we just shared?”

  “That was a dessert appetizer. Like the lead up to the real thing. After all, can something truly be considered dessert if chocolate isn’t involved?”

  Lucas laughed and then planted a kiss on the side of my head. “All right. What are you in the mood for now?”

  I smiled and relaxed against his side. “I think a cupcake would hit the spot.”

  The sun was starting its descent as we walked down the street, pausing to glance up at every shop sign we passed. It was early enough that most of the coffee houses were still open, and three blocks into our stroll, we followed our noses into one and cleared their display case of the last half a dozen scones and cookies—and a solitary cupcake. I passed on the espresso, tempting as it was, and we wandered back out into the dusky twilight.