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

by Mandy M. Roth

  I sat in the passenger side, taking a few deep breaths, before I patted the dashboard for good measure, contemplating my own mortality as she put the car in park.

  It had been a number of years since I’d let Dana talk me into riding a roller coaster, but if I remembered right, the feeling when we got off was a lot like this. My stomach threatened to revolt, and I was pretty sure the car was swaying, even though it was in park.

  “You all right there?” asked Dana, grabbing her black leather saddlebag and tossing her keys into it before she put her sunglasses on the dash. I should have known when she’d shown up at the Proctor House after sunset wearing sunglasses that the trip was to be an interesting one.

  “I’m not sure. Your driving is intense,” I offered, meaning every word of it.

  Dana drove like she did everything in her life—with aggression. It was times like these that I second-guessed my choice to not drive. The few times I’d driven Poppy’s old truck, I went so slow people honked at me. If you knew anything about Southerners, you knew they weren’t ones to honk unless they were giving something close to a friendly toot. The toots weren’t so friendly when they were seven cars deep behind me.

  I had to use extra caution when I drove. Dead people popped in and out at random and they walked right out in front of me all the time. Sometimes the trees or wildlife would shout at me as I drove too. There were so many distractions. It was hard to focus. It’s why I normally avoided driving at all costs.

  It was safest for everyone.

  Though the more I rode with Dana, the more I began to wonder if the townsfolk would find themselves fine with my pokey driving so long as it meant Dana wasn’t behind the wheel.

  She liked zipping around town with the ragtop down. That was fine for her hair, which was long and straight. Mine was off-beat and had a life of its own. Sections of it had blown free from my braids. I tucked in as much as I could and looked over at her.

  With a waggle of her dark brows, she grinned, her green eyes lighting with mischief as she did. “Everything about me is intense.”

  She wasn’t wrong.

  She raked a hand through her hair once and the long black mane fell perfectly over her shoulders and down her back. “Should I put the ragtop up? Do you think it’s going to rain?”

  I sat there, still trying to catch my bearings.

  Burgess wiggled a little before peeking out from his secret spot, letting me know he was alive and fine but more than likely suffering from motion sickness too. I really hoped he didn’t upchuck where he was. That would be unfortunate for more than one reason.

  It took a few more seconds for it to stop feeling as if the car was still moving. When it did, I answered her question. “What are the odds something demonic will launch a full-scale attack against us tonight? That tends to bring thunderstorms.”

  She tugged at her lower lip and then pressed the button for the ragtop to close. “Better safe than sorry.”

  “With how our first few days here went, that might be best.” I snorted and pulled down the visor to look in the mirror. Good thing I did. As predicted, my hair was everywhere. Normally, I wouldn’t much mind, but I didn’t want to go in and see Bram looking like something the cat dragged in. With a sigh, I undid my braids quickly and then put them back in just as fast.

  Dana stared at me, appearing stunned. “Is it me or did you just double-check your appearance?”

  “I did, why?” I asked.

  “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?” she asked, a teasing note in her voice.

  Confused, I simply stared back at her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Marcy, I’ve known you for over twenty years. I’ve never seen you give two figs what you look like,” she replied. “Any reason you’re worried now?”

  I tensed, doing my best to appear innocent. Telling her I was having semi-sexy dreams about her father and was totally and completely attracted to the man wasn’t an option. “No.”

  She grinned and tapped the steering wheel. “Austin finally wearing you down? I heard he asked you out for drinks a few times already. He’s a cutie. Young, but whatever. And apparently some distant cousin of mine who is like forty times removed or however the hell that works.”

  I licked my lower lip, understanding that her line of questioning wasn’t to make fun of me or tease me in any way. She wanted me to find the same kind of happiness she’d found recently. Thankfully, I could read her like the back of my hand, so she didn’t need to use the words to tell me. Everything radiating from her screamed as much to me. “He’s very attractive, but he’s not really the person for me.”

  “Is the guy for you a police detective?” she asked, all smiles still. “Snazzy dresser? Mysterious quality about him?”

  “Not you too. Stratton and I are only friends.”

  She shrugged in a way that said she didn’t believe me. “If you say so. You know, when he heard I was bringing you out here to look through the Van Helsing vaults for information about your parents, he wasn’t pleased.”

  I sighed. I’d been right. He wasn’t happy. “How does he know? I didn’t tell him.”

  “Jeffrey and Brett were talking about it earlier at the bar, when I stopped by on my lunch hour. Stratton happened to be nearby. The guy is so chill most of the time. But he yelled at Brett about letting you do this,” she said. “For letting you come out here with me.”

  “He yelled at his boss?” I asked, surprised that Stratton would lose his cool. He was always so grounded and in control of his emotions. He’d joined me more than once while I meditated, seeming to be a master of the art of relaxing.

  “Yep. I’m shocked Brett didn’t tell you,” she said. “When Stratton stormed out of the bar, it looked like he was making a call. I take it that call wasn’t to you?”

  “It might have been,” I admitted. “I’ve kind of sort of been avoiding his calls.”

  “And why might that be?” she pushed.

  I tensed. “Because I had a feeling he wouldn’t like hearing we were doing this.”

  “Oh, he had zero issues with me coming here. All his issues were centered around you coming out here—and being near my alleged father.”

  Tipping my head, I gave her a stern look. “Dana, I get you make jokes to deflect and hide your true feelings, but my guess is it hurts Bram to be referred to as nothing more than a sperm donor or as allegedly being your father. Nonna even told you that he loves you, and that he sent you and your mom away to keep you safe. And from the sounds of it, he tried to make sure you were all financially cared for.”

  She grew quiet as she stared up at the front entrance of the mansion. A light popped on in one of the front windows, only to shut off quickly thereafter. “I know. You’re right. I joke to deflect. I’ll be more mindful when he’s in earshot.”

  Since getting her to agree to stop doing it altogether was a big ask right out of the gate, I took my win where I could. But I did push for a little more. “Dana, his hearing isn’t like yours or mine. It’s a lot better. I’m guessing that if he tried, he could hear what we’re saying out here from inside the house with ease.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh. Right. I forgot. Do you think his hearing is as good as Jeffrey’s?”

  “Answer a question for me,” I said.

  She nodded.

  “Do you hate him?” I asked.

  “No,” she said quietly.

  “Do you have any real interest in getting to know him? If you don’t, we need to turn around and leave now,” I said, conviction in my belly.

  “Marcy, I know you want to learn about your family. Maria thinks the Van Helsing vaults have the information you’re looking for. We can’t just go. This is important to you.”

  “Dana, you’re more important to me. If you don’t want to be here, and you have no intention of trying to build a bridge between yourself and your father, let’s go. Staying only wastes our time and, in the end, hurts him.” I never liked being the heavy but
sometimes, someone had to be it.

  “You sound like Poppy right now,” she returned. “Isn’t there a tree or a bush that needs a hug or something? You know, something you can focus on other than me?”

  I batted my lashes. “Nope. You have my undivided attention.”

  “Yippie,” she said sarcastically.

  “I noticed you didn’t answer my question,” I returned, knowing how far she needed to be pushed emotionally.

  With a grunt, she side-eyed me again. “I don’t hate him. I feel guilty because of that. Like I owe it to my mom to stay angry at him.”

  I put my hand on her thigh. “I understand. Do you really think your mother would want that?”

  She stared at my hand. “Nonna doesn’t think so.”

  “You talked about this with her?” I asked, surprised because Nonna wasn’t Bram’s biggest fan.

  “She just kind of talks at me about him,” said Dana. “She’s been pushing me to call him back and set up a time to meet with him.”

  “She doesn’t want you to spike his drinks with rat poison or anything, does she?” I asked, only partially kidding.

  Dana chuckled. “No. She is this weird mix of mad at him but almost relieved that the truth about him is out there now. Seems like she might have some guilt about how things played out too. I’m not sure though.”

  “Age has a way of turning steadfast convictions into hard-core remorse,” I offered, my hand still on her thigh in a supportive manner.

  “Yeah. I’m starting to get that,” she confessed, a rawness in her voice that made me want to hug her. “He’s not without fault in all of this.”

  “I never said he was,” I countered, pleased to see she was indeed opening up about everything. “I’m sure he has a lot of things he wishes he could change about it all. You won’t know that unless you actually talk to him.”

  Chapter Nine

  Marcy

  Dana fell silent for an extended period of time, and I knew we were still being watched from inside the house. I could almost picture Bram there, just out of our line of sight, waiting with bated breath, wondering what his daughter might say next.

  Dana turned her head in my direction, and it was then I saw the moisture in her green eyes. “I have a father, Marcy. He’s alive…sort of.”

  No one was ever allowed to cry alone when I was near. I choked up along with her. “You do and he is…sort of.”

  “What if I’m not what he wanted in a daughter?” she asked. “I’m not a badass slayer or anything.”

  I blinked and then stared blankly at her.

  She teared up more. “What?”

  “Babycakes, so you weren’t dusting vamps in the Proctor House and then later smokin’ ghouls?” I questioned.

  One of her dark brows shot up. “Dusting vamps? Smoking ghouls? How much time are you spending around Nonna?”

  I grinned. “Hey. She’s the real badass. To heck with your father. He can’t hold a candle to her. He may be some famous demon hunter and powerful master vampire, but he’s no Italian grandmother. They’re fierce and frightening when provoked.”

  Dana lost it, laughing and crying.

  It was a release that I knew she needed and was happy to join in. Before long we were sitting there, taking hold of one another’s hands as we laughed through tears.

  She gave my hands a gentle squeeze. “Okay, we have to stop, or I’ll wet myself.”

  My face grew serious. “Want me to get you a set of vaginal weights for after the—?”

  I shut up.

  “After the what?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” I said, smiling wide. “Ready to go in there and get to know your father?”

  She gave a half-hearted nod. “What about you? Ready to go in and learn about your family too?”

  I stilled before sliding my hands from hers.

  “Marcy?”

  “What if we find out something about my birth parents that isn’t good?” I asked, fear tickling my stomach.

  She snorted. “You mean like your father being a member of the undead club?”

  As I thought about it more, I grinned at her. “Something like that. Is it really so bad? Having your father in your life, knowing what he is?”

  She took an unnatural interest in the steering wheel. “Honestly? I haven’t really been able to wrap my mind around it all. It’s been a lot. The whole Nonna really being a witch. Us being witches. Not to mention my husband can lick his own butt if he shifts forms and puts his mind to it.”

  Her way of oversimplifying to hide her emotions was a defense mechanism. One I expected from her. “You’re handling it all really well.”

  “Really? Because I feel like I’m winging it,” she admitted. “I don’t like not being in full control of everything around me.”

  “You don’t say,” I said, feigning shock.

  She nudged me. “Funny. Ready to do this?”

  I was about to say yes when I caught sight of two male spirits walking out of the bushes near the door, obviously engrossed in conversation.

  The men were in close-fitted frock coats, complete with waistcoats, trousers, and pointed-toe black shoes. Everything about them, from their facial hair and the way they walked to their clothing, said they’d died some time ago. If I had to guess, I’d have gone with the later part of the nineteenth century. Strangely, they made me think of the woman I’d seen walking through the green room earlier. The one with the beaded necklace who had helped me come up with a way to smuggle Burgess into the car without Dana discovering as much.

  The men paused and took note of the sports car, and then Dana and myself. They focused on Dana before turning and speaking to one another. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but it was clearly about Dana.

  She shivered slightly and rubbed her bare forearms. “Freaky. I just got a chill. I’ve been sweating in places people shouldn’t have sweat since we moved here. I’m pretty sure Hell is actually cooler than South Carolina in June, and here I am shivering. Is this a reverse hot flash? Are those a thing?”

  I did my best to avoid laughing. “You’re sensing them.”

  “Them who?” she asked, glancing around as she rolled up the smaller back windows, but left the front ones down.

  I nodded in the direction of the two male spirits.

  Dana followed my gaze. “Uh, do I want to know what is there?”

  From the expression on her face, the answer was no.

  She shook her head before I could tell her more. “Let’s pretend for an entire evening that you can’t communicate with the other side, that ghosts aren’t a thing, that none are here, and that you can’t talk to animals and trees, okay?”

  I sat perfectly still.

  “Marcy?” she asked.

  “I’m trying to decide if I can make you that promise or not,” I confessed.

  Just then, another spirit came out of nowhere. This one was in running shorts with no shirt and looked to be enjoying an evening jog. He didn’t so much as glance in our direction.

  The other two spirits watched him as he ran by and then their focus returned to us—this time centering on me. They were rather blatant.

  I lifted a brow and stared back at them. “Rude.”

  They blinked, shock showing on their faces.

  “That’s right,” I said to them. “I can see you, and it’s rude to stare. It’s rude to whisper about people too. I’d have expected better manners from you both, considering you look like you stepped out of a time when manners were commonplace.”

  Shame coated their expressions before they vanished into thin air.

  Dana sighed. “Guess that answered that.”

  “What?” I asked, confused.

  She winked. “You keep being your authentic self, Marcy.”

  “Thank you. You too. Wait, no. You should probably not. Small children and woodland creatures will be scared. How about you try being less authentic?”

  She laughed.

  My hand went to her forearm. �
�In case I forget, thank you for doing this for me. I know you and your father are trying to find some common footing, doing your best to establish a relationship. And I know things have been picking up at the law office for you. You’re very busy.”

  “Listen,” she said, her New York accent shining through. “I’m never too busy for you. Yeah, Bram and I are kind of testing the waters on this whole father-and-daughter thing. It’s just really weird to think of him as my dad when he looks like he’s the age my brother would be if I had one.”

  There was more to it than that, but I let Dana slide with that excuse. In reality, she had a lot of resentment to work through. No one could blame her. Agreeing to spend the night with me, combing through the vaults of research and reference material that were housed under the estate was a big step forward for her. I didn’t want that to go unmentioned. “If at any point you want to leave, just tell me.”

  “I love that you think I wouldn’t,” she said, her grin widening. “I’m not really known for holding back.”

  True. She wasn’t.

  “Are you ready for this?” I asked.

  She stared at the massive home, nodding slightly but appearing strained. “Yes.”

  It wasn’t the most confident response I’d heard from her. I kept my hand on her forearm. “We’ll just sit here until you’re ready. No hurry. The information has been unknown to me for forty years. What is forty more minutes?”

  Leaning forward a bit, she glanced out of the front windshield, upward at the evening sky. The sun had set but the moon was nearly full, illuminating the area well. “Think he’s still asleep? What are vampires’ sleeping schedules anyway? Do they vary, or do they all sleep from sunup to sundown? Is there a book on them I could read? I tried to look up information on the internet about them, but most of that seemed like someone had just made it up. Most of it was about teenage vampires. Are those a thing? Can you imagine being locked at that age? Pimples and hormones for eternity. Hard pass.”