Spellcasting with a Chance of Spirits: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Romance Novel (Grimm Cove Book 3)

by Mandy M. Roth

  His concern warmed me and his attempt at a joke made me smile. It didn’t matter how morbid the humor was.

  “You can come in,” I said, loud enough for him to hear but so Dana, who at last check was in the living room, wouldn’t. Granted, the bathroom I was in was nestled off her bedroom, but sound traveled, and Dana had great hearing.

  Her tolerance level for my ability to see and hear the dead was low, and telling her she had a spirit hanging out in her apartment would go over as well as a lead balloon. She wasn’t what anyone would call at peace with there being more to life than met the eye. In fact, she pretty much walked around with blinders on and the equivalent of her fingers shoved in her ears, all while humming.

  I, on the other hand, heard and saw everything.

  “Are you sure?” asked the man, easing into the room with one foot first.

  “It’s fine, Jack,” I replied to the spirit. Though I wasn’t exactly sure Jack was a spirit. “The bubbles cover everything, not that it matters. I’m not really modest.”

  A man who looked to be in his thirties stepped directly through the still-closed door. His eyes were closed tight and once he’d passed through the door, he turned, putting his back to me, giving me privacy despite being told I didn’t require any. As a spirit—or whatever he was—he wasn’t bound by the same rules as everyone else. He could pass through objects with ease and do a whole slew of other neat tricks. It had to be handy being able to walk through walls and doors. Saying I had a bit of dead-guy envy sounded wrong, so I kept it to myself.

  Jack was wearing the same clothes he’d been in for the past several months that he’d been appearing to me. A pair of dress slacks and a designer shirt that was cuffed just below the elbow. The shirt was a deep blue with the tiniest of white dots repeated throughout the pattern. His socks had a similar pattern, but bolder and in the same color scheme. His shoes no doubt retailed for more than everything I bothered to carry around with me in the three hippie bags.

  My gaze zeroed in on his shoes. Normally, they were immaculate. Now they had a few splatters of something dark on them. “Jack, is that red paint on your shoes?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and then rolled his shoulders before glancing down at his feet. “Huh, I must have stepped in some while I was out. I hadn’t noticed.”

  It was painfully clear he didn’t want to talk about it. “Are you done with whatever it is you had to do?”

  Jack had left in the wee hours of the morning before the sun had come up, and had been vague about where he was going and what he’d be doing. Whatever it was, it had kept him away for hours.

  He inclined his head. “I am. For now.”

  “That sounded so mysterious,” I offered with a snort. “Are you going to tell me what you were doing?”

  “Let’s just say I had to deliver a message to an old friend,” he returned before going quiet.

  “Yep. Totally mysterious,” I teased.

  He laughed, but it sounded forced.

  “Was it a local delivery? Because you were gone a long time,” I said.

  He expelled a loud, somewhat annoyed breath. “A wee bit was local. The rest had me far away for a while.”

  “Are you okay?” I questioned.

  “I am. Were you able to get any sleep after I left?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

  I noticed the topic shift and let it be. “No.”

  “Still rattled by the turn your dreams have taken?” he asked with a sigh, having heard all about them from me more than once. He was an exceptionally good listener, and I found myself divulging more to him than I did most.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “The newest dreams you’re having, with the man in the limo—which you’ve told me more than once reminds you of a scene from Pretty Woman. Are they sexual in nature?” he questioned. There were no hints of jealousy in his deep voice, only curiosity in an analytical way.

  I didn’t exactly want to dwell on the disturbing dreams but talking about them might help them stop going to such a dark place. I wouldn’t have minded in the least if the dreams only held the tall, dark-haired stranger in the limo. It didn’t matter that whenever I woke, I couldn’t recall what his face looked like or anything specific about him. Those dreams had felt right. But the introduction of a dark entity had changed everything. I didn’t look forward to the dreams anymore.

  “Yes, they’re sexual in nature,” I confessed. “But it’s more than that between him and me. As Mr. Hotty Pants gets out of the limo and looks at me, I can feel it on him.”

  “Mr. Hotty Pants?” echoed Jack.

  “I don’t have a name for him,” I said as I relaxed more in the tub.

  He nodded. “Okay, what can you feel on him?”

  “That he really, really wants me in a carnal way.”

  “And did you want him in the same way?” asked Jack, still sounding as if he was collecting data, not having a casual conversation.

  My hand went to my upper chest as I thought about how I felt whenever Mr. Hotty Pants appeared. “I always feel hot, but not the kind of hot you get from overexertion or a dead-of-summer day. The kind of heat you get when excitement and desire rushes through you. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I do,” he returned. “So, you were attracted to him too? How else did he make you feel?”

  “Complete,” I said.

  “By chance is he exceedingly tall, have shoulder-length dark hair, and green eyes?” asked Jack, sounding as if he already knew the answer.

  I stared at his back. “Maybe. Why do you ask?”

  “Maybe? You don’t know what Mr. Hotty Pants looks like?” he questioned.

  “I know that I see him when I’m dreaming of him, but when I wake up, his face is gone from my memory,” I whispered. “I wish the dark entity would vanish from my memory like that. It sticks.”

  “Can you tell me more about it? The dark entity?” he asked, something off in his voice, as he glanced to his right and tipped his head as if he’d heard something I didn’t.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I supplied. “Not much scares me. It does.”

  “You see and hear the dead,” he said. “Yet this thing manages to unnerve you? Why do you think that is?”

  I simply stared at him. “By chance, were you a head doctor when you were alive?”

  He stood up straight and glanced at me before closing his eyes tight once more.

  As much as I appreciated his company and the conversation he provided, I didn’t really want to discuss my dreams any more than we already had. “Are you going to keep staring at the wall instead of coming over here and sitting down to talk with me?”

  Jack chuckled. “As tempting as that sounds, it’s best I not.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Love, I’ve explained to you already that you’re important to someone I know. You have a bigger part to play, Marcy. Now isn’t the time for me to get in the way of that. At least not yet.”

  He’d said as much before, but never elaborated on who this supposed person was or how I was significant to them. As one who expected others to take what I said on faith, I owed him the same courtesy. That being said, it was hard not to push for answers.

  “It’s really nice in here,” I said, making a wet slapping sound as I patted the bubbles. “You sure you don’t want to get in too?”

  “You’re killing me, love,” he said with a snort, still facing the corner. “Oh wait, someone already did that. More than once.”

  “Jack,” I said softly, knowing that while he joked about no longer being among the living, it upset him. Not that he’d shared as much with me. No, he’d kept up a façade, more for himself than anyone else. He’d said very little about what kind of supernatural he was, but it was obvious he was one. “How many times, exactly, have you died?”

  Jack ran a hand through his medium-brown hair that hung just past his ears and then put his hands in his front pockets. “Caught that slip of the tongue, did you?”


  “Yes,” I returned. “About the dying bit. More than once I take it?”

  “Yes,” he supplied. “More than once.”

  “How old are you?”

  “How old do I look?” he returned.

  “Like you’re a bit younger than me. Side note, I’ve never dated a man who was younger than me. I should consider it.”

  He chuckled. “Looks can be deceiving, love.”

  “So, you’re not younger than me?” I asked.

  “No,” he breathed. “I’m not.”

  I just sat there, unsure what else I could offer.

  “Marcy?”

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “To answer your other question, I’ve died more than once, and I’ve taken more than one life in my time,” he said, his voice just barely at a level I could hear.

  I wasn’t sure if the statement was meant to be a confession of his sins or if it was his version of merely stating a fact. A niggle in my gut said he wanted to warn me. “You don’t feel like you were a bad person, Jack. I don’t sense any evil in you.”

  “If only that were true,” he whispered, making me wonder what sins he felt he had committed.

  Neither of us said anything for several long minutes before I gave in and put my head back on the lip of the tub again. The past week had been emotionally draining on me, leaving me catching the briefest of naps. I was desperate for rest. Enough time to refill my personal energy coffers. Hence the bath, the candles, the bubbles, the face mask, and the soothing aromatherapy.

  “Get some rest, Marcy,” said Jack softly. “I won’t leave. I’ll do what I can to keep the dreams away. And I won’t let you fall in and drown.”

  The toll of doing my best to avoid sleeping for the past several nights picked then to show itself. One second, I was at peace in the bubble bath, teetering on the edge of sleep, and the next, I was kicking awake, feeling as if I was falling. As my legs jerked up and then down once more in the tub, water splashed up and out.

  Jack glanced back fast and closed his eyes a second later. “Marcy?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Was almost asleep and then felt like I was falling.”

  “Ah,” he returned with a nod, his eyes still closed. “A hypnogogic jerk. Stress and lack of sleep can bring them on.”

  Jack never mentioned what he did for a living when he’d been alive, but he seemed to have a lot of knowledge when it came to medical things. It made me wonder if he’d been in that field or something close to it. I didn’t pry. He was entitled to his secrets.

  Everyone was.

  “Did your friend get the message you sent him this morning?”

  He let out a long breath. “I think so. I pinned it where he was sure to see it.”

  “I can call him if you want,” I offered. “I can give him any message you need to be sure he has.”

  “I’ll use you to send a message to him when the time is right,” he returned. “Now isn’t that time.”

  “What is it your friend does?” I asked.

  “I want to tell you, I do, but I can’t,” he said, sadness filling his deep voice.

  “The offer still stands, Jack,” I said. “I’ll look for your friend and try to contact him for you. It’s the least I could do since you’ve been such a supportive friend to me since we met.”

  He nearly turned around to face me but stopped at the last second, facing the wall abruptly once more. “There is so much you need to know,” he said, sounding pained. “So much that I’m not able to tell you.”

  “Why can’t you tell me?” I asked. “Or is that a secret too?”

  His shoulders slumped and his demeanor changed, making him look almost defeated. “If I could tell you, I would. Things will sort themselves out soon enough.”

  “You talk in circles worse than I do,” I said with a small grin. “Impressive.”

  He laughed. “Thank you.”

  Unlike normal spirits that I’d interacted with a great deal over the course of my life, Jack wasn’t able to see or hear others like him—others who had crossed over. What was even stranger was that the spirits I knew to be fully aware couldn’t see or hear him either. It was almost as if he was operating on an independent plane of existence from them. One I could still see and hear. It made me wonder what type of supernatural he was or had been prior to passing. It was painfully obvious that he wasn’t human.

  It was also clear he was upset.

  In an effort to make him smile, I began to sing the Prince song I’d been singing prior to his arrival.

  Jack laughed softly, his mood lightening.

  Chapter Four

  Marcy

  There was a knock on the door. “Babes, I love ya like a sister, but can you tone down your Julia-Roberts-in-the-bathtub Pretty Woman reenactment?” Dana asked in a voice that sounded sweet and innocent. That only meant she was working hard to avoid shouting at me.

  I made kissing noises and lifted bubbles, blowing them out of my hands. The bubbles formed a shape, and I smiled at the sight of it. “Neat. The bubbles morphed into a butterfly shape. That, or a bat. I can’t really tell.”

  “Rorschach moment?” asked Jack with a laugh.

  I smiled at his inkblot joke. “Possibly.”

  “Can I get something firmer than possibly?” asked Dana. “I’m not sure how much more Prince I can listen to you sing.”

  “Want me to move to Steely Dan?” I questioned, already knowing what her response would be.

  “Bite your tongue, devil woman,” she said loudly from the other side of the door.

  I lifted more bubbles and blew on them as well. They formed something that looked like a squirrel. My eyes widened with delight. “That’s a new one. The bubbles formed a squirrel. Look.”

  “I’d rather not,” said Dana.

  Jack laughed more. “I would, but then I’d see you naked. He’s already going to take exception with this as it is. Though it would serve him right.”

  “He being?” I asked.

  He didn’t respond.

  With a shrug, I returned to playing with the bubbles. This time, they formed a dragon. It floated up and for a second looked as if it might actually breathe bubble fire—if that was even a thing. It vanished then.

  “Okay, so we’re off Prince songs now?” asked Dana, a hopeful note to her voice.

  “Yes,” I responded. “I can pick another movie and a different song. How about something from the Grateful Dead or John Denver?”

  “God, no. Please don’t,” said Dana, this time louder. “I have a ton of work to go over from the office and need to focus. I swear, getting my replacement up to speed will be the death of me.”

  “You can join me in the tub if you need to relax. I’ll make room,” I said. “There are bubbles!”

  “Best day ever,” said Jack from the corner.

  Silence greeted me for a few moments from Dana’s side of the door. “Uh, thank you, but I’m going to pass on communal baths.”

  I moved over to the right a bit in the tub, just in case she had a change of heart. After all, who didn’t love bubbles?

  “Hon, you know it’s weird to offer to share your bath with someone, right?” asked Dana, cracking the door open a smidge. “Tell me you don’t do that for everyone.”

  “That would be ridiculous,” I said with a small snort. “Your tub is big but not big enough for everyone. Geesh, Dana.”

  “Yes, because I’m the ridiculous one here.” She sighed and shut the door.

  Jack, who was standing behind it, grunted as he still faced the corner. “I personally thought your Pretty Woman bit was spot-on and incredibly timely, considering you’re in a bubble bath in a swanky flat.”

  “Aww, I’m surprised you got it. Secret fan of romantic movies?”

  “Not-so-secret fan of Julia Roberts,” he said with a suggestive laugh. “She’s hard not to develop a crush on.”

  Dana opened the door a bit again. “I didn’t hear you, Marcy. What did you say?”

  “I
was talking to Jack,” I confessed with a small bubble-filled wave.

  Dana murmured something about me and being crazy. “Jack…isn’t he the spider you found in there the last time you were here? You know, the one you refused to let me kill?”

  “She thinks I’m a spider that lives in her bathroom?” asked Jack, sounding offended.

  “At least she’s showing an interest in who you are,” I said to him, earning me a confused grunt from Dana. “No. Jack is not the spider. The spider was named Eunice. And the spider was very happy you didn’t kill him. He was able to reproduce and become a father. I’m sure it was a very proud moment for him. Well, for like a nanosecond, because then he died and his mate ate him, which was sad, but such is the way of things sometimes with sex and nature and certain species within it. Wouldn’t it be kind of neat to be a female spider and kill your mate when you’re done with him in bed? Not sure about eating him though. You know how I am about meat. Sometimes I eat it and sometimes I can’t bring myself to put it in my mouth.”

  Jack stiffened. “Tell me you’re joking about the mate thing and the eating them thing. I’m never actually sure with you.”

  Dana pushed her head in more. “Are you saying I have more spiders in my apartment now?”

  He pointed at her. “She didn’t even comment on you eating your mate after sex. And people think I’m a monster.”

  “They do?” I questioned.

  “Marcy,” said Dana, cutting through any more questions I had for Jack. “Do I have more spiders in my place?”

  “Yes, you do have more spiders now. Isn’t that so sweet?” I asked. “They like it here so much the entire family stayed to live and carry on Eunice’s memory. We should maybe say a few words about him. I’ll go first. He was such a fast runner. He could scurry across anything at the speed of light.”

  She expelled an annoyed breath. “Marcy, the last thing I want is a million spiders in my house.”