“I haven’t been on one of those cruises since high school.” Talk about a walk down memory lane. “Remember how those used to be the height of romance?”
“Hey, don’t knock it. I got my first kiss onboard the Peachy Queen from Kevin Rood.”
“Kevin Rood.” I couldn’t even remember his face. “Military brat, right?”
“Yep.” She toyed with her fan. “He went to school with us for six months to the day before his mom got reassigned, and off he went.” She swooned against me. “Taking my heart with him.”
I patted her arm. “Suuure.”
She harrumphed. “Are you doubting that he broke my heart or that I have one to break?”
I thought about it. “Both?”
“Fine. So I’ve never been in love.” She sat upright and straightened her skirts. “That doesn’t mean I’m not open to the possibility, with the right person, at the right time.”
“Does love ever happen at the right time, with the right person?”
“No idea.” She twirled her parasol. “Maybe we should ask Neely. He’s the only friend we’ve got in a functional romantic relationship, let alone a marriage.”
Good point. “Do you think it’s easier for humans?”
“Maybe,” she mused. “Relationships are hard enough without adding magic into the mix.”
For me, Boaz had been a classic case of unrequited love. Wealth, status, power—none of it had mattered when all he could see when he looked at me was his kid sister’s best friend. I wasn’t sure what he saw in me these days, but he did see me. That was progress, right?
This whole happily-ever-after thing would be so much easier if fated mates were a thing, but the closest necromancers got were arranged marriages with ironclad prenups. “Have your parents ever mentioned picking a husband for you?”
“No.” Her slight hesitation made the room smaller, the air thinner.
“Ame.” I grabbed her arm and shook her. “Spill.”
“Okay, fine, so they sent out inquiries for Boaz. He’s the firstborn, and that means he gets stuck honoring familial duties. He must marry, and he must produce the next Pritchard heir.” She had to have noticed the blood draining from my face. “It was years ago, Grier. Before…” Atramentous. “Three families sent their eldest daughters to visit us for a week. He was maybe thirteen.”
I found breathing a smidgen easier considering his age and the fact he wasn’t engaged. “And?”
“This is Boaz we’re talking about here. What do you think he did?”
“I would say he charmed his way into their panties, but at thirteen, they were probably safe from all but visual molestation.”
Allowing it was a fair point, Amelie shrugged. “There was light fondling. He was a teenage boy, and they were gorgeous girls offering themselves up to him. Until he realized there was a catch, he was in hog heaven.”
Snorting, I had to shake my head. “This does not surprise me.”
“What pissed Mom off most was how he used his etiquette training against her. He told the girls they were beautiful, that a man would be lucky to have any of them for a wife, but that man wasn’t going to be him.” Her lips pulled to one side. “I haven’t seen Mom turn that shade of red since. He humiliated her in front of prominent Low Society heads of families by refusing those suits, and no one has offered for him since.”
“You make it sound like Boaz is still on the market,” I joked.
Amelie didn’t laugh. “He’s the eldest son of a Low Society matron, Grier. Think about it.”
“You mean anyone could come along and barter for his hand in marriage?” I tried wrapping my head around the idea and failed. “Would he have to accept?”
“He’s made it plain he won’t have his bride chosen for him, and most girls are smart enough not to want their hearts broken.” She fingered a stringy piece of lace on her skirt. “He’s got a few more years to select his own wife before our parents start applying pressure.”
That might explain Mr. Pritchard’s concern over our friendship. A match between a Woolworth and a Low Society sentinel, even a member of the Elite, was as likely as snow in Georgia in August. But he had to know his son had been the biggest obstacle. Given half a chance, five years earlier, I would have put a ring on it without a backward glance.
“What about you?” The Pritchards had three kids, after all. “Does that mean you’re off the hook? What about Macon?”
Macon was the youngest Pritchard sibling and still in his all girls have cooties phase.
“As long as Boaz produces an heir, yes.” A soft laugh shook her shoulders. “You’d think he’d have sired fifty by now, but he’s been careful.”
Boaz in all his promiscuous glory was never going to be my favorite topic of conversation. I could laugh about some of the highlights, sure. But the reality of his past was often a tough pill for me to swallow. I choked down my jealousy, I always did, but reliving his escapades still hurt.
“I should get to work.” I stood and hauled Amelie to stand. “Toilets don’t scrub themselves.”
She groaned as she settled back on her swollen feet. “Hey, you want to hear something weird?”
“Hit me.”
She cocked her arm and punched me in the shoulder then shrugged. “What? You had to see that coming.”
“Fine, Little Miss Literal.” Rubbing the tender spot, I scowled. “Tell me.”
“You know that flickering lamppost on Whitaker Street we always hint is a ghost trying to communicate with us from the great beyond?”
“Yeah.” There was a benign disturbance in the area, but it was too weak to do more than interfere with that lone bulb. “Victims love whipping out their EMF meters for readings there.”
The small devices measured electromagnetic fields, and ghost hunters used them to determine hotspots.
“No longer.” Her sigh carried. “I walked past there twice tonight, and there was nary a wink in sight.”
“That really is weird.” The city had rewired that lamppost, replaced the bulbs, killed the power to it on more than one occasion, all to no avail. Or so we told the tourists. The truth was probably that the neighbors complained about the light and nothing was ever done about it, allowing us to embellish how we liked. It was a dependable stop while on that route, and it had the bonus of being authentic. “Did you see that story in the paper about the B&B?”
“I overheard Mom and Dad talking about it. In loud voices. She’s not thrilled with the newspaper coverage, but he doesn’t seem to think anything will come of it.” She swished her way toward the door. “So, are we on for Mallow after work?”
“Yes, please.” A hot chocolate would rinse the bleach taste from my mouth quite nicely. “Go forth and scintillate.”
“Oh, I shall.” She bobbed in a practiced curtsey that had nothing to do with her job and everything to do with being Society born and bred. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”
“I make you no promises.”
Once Amelie left, I set about tidying the chaotic parlor. I had an armful of accessories bound for the closet when a knock on the doorframe made me turn. A gaunt woman dressed in a navy pantsuit appraised me from across the threshold. Her slate-gray eyes narrowed on my face, and I got a bad feeling about the nature of this visit.
“Hello.” I scanned the hall behind her, but she was alone. “Can I help you?”
“Are you Grier Woolworth?” The question came out flat. She already knew the answer.
“Yes.”
“I’m Detective Caitlin Russo with the Savannah Police Department.” She stepped into the room. “I hear you disappeared for a few weeks then came back to work sporting a shiner.” Her gaze slid over me. “Ms. Meacham says it’s not the first time this has happened. You vanishing without a trace.”
Involving human law enforcement in Society business was a huge no-no. Cricket, despite her good intentions, could have done me less harm if she’d pulled the pin on a grenade then lobbed it at me.
Th
ree
I’m not an abuse case if that’s what has you worried.” The smile I turned on her pulled the scab on my lip taut, and she caught my wince. “I live alone. I don’t have a boyfriend—”
“Ms. Meacham seems to believe otherwise.” Detective Russo consulted a small notepad on her palm. “She says you’re dating the brother of one of her other employees, one Amelie Pritchard. The brother’s name is…” she skimmed her information, “…Boaz.”
“Boaz is my friend, not my boyfriend.” I kept tidying the room to hide the tremble in my hands. “He and Amelie are my neighbors. We all grew up together.”
“Is there any tension between you two?” She held a pen poised above the paper. “Has he made any unwanted advances?”
I snorted out a laugh. “Um, no.”
Her expression remained severe. “Why is that funny?”
“He’s always been like an older brother to me.” Minus the whole platonic-love thing siblings had going on. The love I’d had for him had not been so innocent. “He wouldn’t hurt a hair on my head, and he would take exception with anyone who tried.”
Except for, you know, the woman he recruited to use me as a grappling dummy.
Maybe I ought to leave out that part.
“All right.” She removed a card from her back pocket. “If you say you’re okay, I have no recourse at this time but to accept your word.”
Meaning she didn’t believe me for a hot minute.
“I’m fine.” I palmed her card and tucked it away while she watched. “Really.”
“If you say so.” She turned to leave, pausing to glance over her shoulder. “Keep that. You might need it one day.”
Giving up on convincing her otherwise, I patted my pocket. “I’ll do that.”
No sooner had I gotten her out of my hair and slumped on the couch than Neely barreled through the door. He gasped at the sight of me and clutched his chest with both manicured hands. I brushed my fingertips over my lips. “It’s not that bad.”
“You vanish for a month and come back looking like this?” He crossed the room and sank down beside me. “Amelie mentioned a family emergency, but I saw those men lurking outside the building the night I covered your shift. They were looking for someone. Dare I say someone Grier-shaped? That’s why Boaz got involved, wasn’t it?” He gathered my hands in his. “You were dating Danill Volkov, and you edited out that tidbit of information with the detective.” He hushed me when I protested the part where he’d been eavesdropping on official police business. “What happened?”
Turns out Danill was just as crazy as you thought. He kidnapped me and held me prisoner for a month on a country estate. The men you noticed were his vampire lackeys, and Boaz was holding them off to give me a chance to run home to my haunted house to safety.
“I did have a family emergency.” Keet had been kidnapped, so that lie had some meat on its bones. “My face is a separate matter altogether.” I debated how much to tell him then stuck as close to the truth as possible. “You called it. Volkov was way too possessive. He didn’t take me leaving town well, so we broke up, and I enrolled in self-defense classes in case he ever comes around again.”
“Oh, Grier.” Neely squeezed my hands. “I’m so sorry.” He noticed me in street clothes well past tour departure time and frowned. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
“I lost my job. Again.” And Cricket was well within her rights to fire an employee who tended to vanish like fog on the river without so much as a note. “I came in to beg for it back, but she axed that idea. She’s letting me fill in for Dom tonight, but I don’t know about tomorrow.”
“All is not lost.” His eyes sparkled in a wicked flash of inspiration. “Have you heard about the Cora Ann?”
“Amelie was just telling me I might get my spot back when Cricket starts hiring girls to fill her roster.”
“That’s a possibility, but the launch is weeks away. We need work for you now.” He whipped out his phone and fired off a text. “The owner is a client of mine. I’m going to put in a good word for you with him, see if you can get hired on there. You’ll still be paid by Cricket, and the familiarity with the boat might help you land one of those hostess spots.”
Grateful tears made my vision swim, but I blinked them back on the sobering reminder he was sticking his neck out for me because he thought I would starve without a paycheck. But if I explained I had an insta-fortune, he would ask questions. He already knew too much as it was thanks to his run-in with Volkov and his goons. I wouldn’t endanger him further.
“Thanks, Neely.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” He tucked away his phone. “Did Amelie explain the sudden interest in boats?”
“Nope.” I had been out of the loop for too many weeks to know the latest buzz.
“There have been ghost sightings during the dinner cruises. Word is the apparition started out benign. People seeing a little boy dressed in a dark-blue sailor suit with ankle socks and canvas shoes. Some reports mention a white cap, others mention his blond curls. For a while, bookings increased. That’s where Cricket got the idea to buy in.” His expression shifted. “But the last cruise ended with three people getting treated for injuries sustained while onboard. They claimed a ghost was hurling cutlery at them during their meal. A few claim a boy’s voice was yelling, ‘I’m hungry. I’m hungry. I’m hungry.’”
Foreboding slithered up my spine. “This was in the news?”
“Yep.” He slanted me a pitying look. “I forgot you’re one of those weirdos who doesn’t watch TV.”
I wanted to laugh at his disdain for my preference in viewing streaming movies and television shows online, but I couldn’t shake the chills. First a B&B owner was down a spook and handing out interviews, and now there was a riverboat with an active haunting on the local news. What did it mean? Spurts of paranormal activity weren’t uncommon in cities like Savannah. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was humans were aware of it, capitalizing on it, this time.
“The news coverage means Cricket is champing at the bit to get the Cora Ann rebranded before the commotion dies down,” he said. “She’s trying to book one of those ghost hunter shows for the maiden voyage.”
The longer he chattered about Cricket’s plans, the more I wondered what stance the Society would take. Ghosts weren’t a priority for them. There was no money in exorcisms, except when a third party hired them to cleanse a space. But, at the same time, there was a difference between an orb of light caught on film and a specter capable of damaging property and harming people. From the sound of things, the B&B ghost leaned more toward a low-level entity while the Cora Ann harbored a burgeoning poltergeist.
“Does this mean you’re going to work a split shift?” I noticed the quiet, wondered when he had stopped talking, and made a valiant effort to fill the lull. “Or will Cricket be hiring another stylist?”
“There will be two haunted cruises nightly until the buzz dies down. One coincides with our first tour at dusk and the other with the late-late tour. Since passengers will board early, the River Haints, and yes, that’s what I overheard Cricket calling them, will need to be primped in advance. I’ve got time to style them then rush back to the office before the first walking tour leaves. I’ll handle touch-ups here until it’s time for the late-late tour, and then I’ll head back to the boat to refresh the girls there.”
“That sounds like a lot of work.”
“Cricket is paying for the gas, so I can’t complain.” He lifted a wrinkled copy of Vanity Fair and pressed it to his chest. “I’m going to miss the downtime, though. That’s when I get caught up on my reading.”
“Um, Neely.” I cocked my head at him. “When do you sleep?”
“I work from home during the week, and I’m very good at what I do.” The upscale accounting firm responsible for half the pens in the office, whether they knew it or not, was a testament to that fact. “There are no clauses in my contract prohibiting me from holding a second job. As long as I’m available f
or conference calls and questions, my boss doesn’t care what I do with the rest of my time.” He traced the dark circles under my eyes. “Besides, I could ask you the same thing. Do you ever sleep?”
“Oh, I sleep.” Sometimes for whole minutes strung together. “The problem is how I wake.”
“Nightmares?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded as if he understood. “Talking helps.”
“I have someone,” I assured him before he made the offer I sensed coming. “She’s helping me work through my issues.”
“Let me know if you need another ear.” He cupped his and leaned closer. “I’m always hear.”
“Ha ha.” I shoved him rocking back on his heels. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I have to get back to work.” He rolled up the magazine and tapped me on the shoulder with it. “I’m glad you’re back. I’m relieved you’re safe. Just do me a favor and call me next time? Amelie kept me in the loop, but I worry about you. I would have rested easier hearing updates direct from the source.”
“I’m sorry.” I touched his wrist. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
With any luck, he didn’t notice I hadn’t promised to call. When I vanished, the only cells I had access to tended to be the barred kind.
“I hid your dress. Just in case.” He jutted out his chin. “I refuse to acknowledge a Blue Belle who isn’t you.”
“You’re the best,” I told him with absolute conviction. “Cruz has no idea how lucky he is.”
“Oh, I remind him every now and then.” He winked. “I hope this thing with Volkov doesn’t put you off dating. It was nice seeing you all dolled up and hitting the town with a hot guy on your arm instead of riding your death machine home and crawling in bed alone.”
Alone meant no one saw, really grasped, how deep the cracks extended in my façade. No matter what Woolly thought, it wasn’t always a bad place to be. “Guys are a lot of work.”
How to Claim an Undead Soul (The Beginner's Guide to Necromancy Book 2) Page 4
