Me and You and a Ghost Named Boo

by Selene Charles

  He had, though, and I’d be a fool to allow my heart to get anymore wrapped up in Mercer. I was going to lose him forever one way or another. I needed to rip it off like a Band-Aid.

  I swallowed thickly. “So I’m not wrong?”

  A thick muscle in Merc’s jaw twitched as he turned to look at me, and I could read the questions burning through his eyes. Nostrils flaring, he scented the air, and I squirmed in my seat.

  He knew. He had to know something was bothering me. We’d been too close since the moment I’d been adopted into the clan for him to not suspect, and after our conversation the other night, I was sure he was confused. If I were he, my head would be spinning.

  However, Mercer hadn’t declared his heart to me, nor I to him. Maybe the thing I’d built up in my head was just a fantasy, one I’d projected on him for so long and so loudly that he’d been suckered in for a while, but we were wrong and always had been.

  “No, you’re not wrong,” he said slowly.

  I shivered, wishing like hell his words meant something else.

  “Boo’s our secret weapon. I just have to figure out why,” I said.

  Tapping my fingers on the wheel, I took a right-hand turn instead of a left.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Harlen told me to talk to the witches. And so that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna see a witch about a spell.”

  ~*~

  I made Mercer promise to stay in the truck. He and Carter weren’t on the friendliest terms, and that was putting it mildly. Though Merc had never been all that fond of Lucille, she’d been pack, which trumped most anything else. In his mind, Carter had had a role to play in Clarence’s mate’s death. Intellectually, Mercer knew that Carter had been fighting against, and not with, his sister, but the wolf in him still struggled to make sense of the loss.

  The animal side of a shifter tended to be a bit more volatile and emotional than the human side. For everyone’s well being, physically keeping them apart was just better.

  I found Bianca sitting behind her desk, playing a game of solitaire and munching on a frosted strawberry donut. She licked at the crumbs on the corner of her mouth and glared at the screen.

  “You little bastard, I needed the king, not this GD jack,” she hissed, still not aware of me.

  I chuckled, causing her to gasp. “Please tell me you’re not about to hex that dinosaur of a laptop.”

  Dual-colored eyes thinned with obvious irritation. “Vampire.” She said the word like a curse. “What do you want? By the way, just thought you should know I had to run in that shitty-ass fun run thanks to my ‘involvement’ in helping bust out a certain shifter from jail. You’re welcome, by the way.”

  I chuckled. “I seem to recall sending you a box of éclairs as a thank-you for it, too.”

  “Humph.” She snorted, smoothing down the ebony-colored flyaway curls that always managed to escape the severe bun she kept her hair in while at work. “You seem to have a way of getting me in trouble whenever you come around, Scar. If I’m forced to do one more 10k, I will hex your ass. Just sayin’.”

  “How’s Nana?”

  “You’re dirty.” She glared at me.

  I smirked. Nana was her great-great-great many-times-removed grandmother. The witches of the coven Romini were high-caste black witches, meaning they could do things that just about no other Veilers could. Witches, unlike most breeds of Veiler, often were only human but had powers so great that even my kind tended to have a healthy fear and distrust of them.

  However, in the case of the Romini coven, one of the strongest and darkest of the groups, they could do things not even other witches could fathom. Practicing the black arts didn’t necessarily mean they were evil, but they did things that crossed squarely over from white and gray magick into twisted things that lived only in nightmares.

  Hey, no judgment here. Being a vampire meant I could hardly cast aspersions on any Veiler and hope to take the high road. I wasn’t sure what spell Nana had cast to live as long as she had. I only knew that most everyone feared the old bat. To include her own granddaughter, and for reasons I couldn’t understand, Nana loved me.

  “Tell her I’m waiting,” I said.

  Blowing out a heavy breath, Bianca held up her hands. Henna tattoos ran down the tops of both in an intricate pattern. “Yeah, yeah, cool your tits. I get it... I get it. I never said I wasn’t gonna help you, vampire. Only that you made me run, which is heartily unfair since these thighs have been on a permanent strike going on three years now. They didn’t appreciate it.”

  Bianca had a little pooch, but she was an exotic, gorgeous woman who never had bought into the whole extreme weight-loss-and-dieting fad. She simply was who she was, which made her exceedingly rare and treasured to me in a world full of plastic people.

  Planting my hands on her desk, I leaned forward. “Need your help, witch.”

  Pursing her full lips, she eyed me critically. Bianca was four foot six inches of mighty warrioress. On the surface, she might have seemed as terrifying as a church mouse, but the witch was as hardcore as they came.

  “I’m listening, but I’m gonna just say this now. You owe me big, girl. Like huge. Whatever you ask for, your fee will be doubled.”

  Lifting a perfectly shaped eyebrow, she eyed me hard. I grinned. I always knew where I stood with witches. Their avarice was legendary, and they had zero problems being honest.

  Up until then, Bianca and I had always paid in donuts and blood, but I was willing to bet that that wouldn’t be the case this time.

  “Name your price.”

  A shrewd gleam entered her two-toned eyes, amber ringed in brightest green. They were probably her prettiest features, not that the girl was vain in the slightest.

  Flicking a glance over my shoulder, she said without batting a lash, “Get Carter to go out on a date with me.”

  “What?” I wrinkled my nose, standing upright. If Bianca had the slightest clue what Carter really was, I knew she wouldn’t be asking.

  She nodded, plowing on. “My cousin is having a bonding ceremony next week. I need a date. Make him go with me, and we have a deal.”

  Cringing, I glanced over my shoulder toward Carter’s desk. He sat there, head down, scratching out some notes on a report, looking completely consumed by his own thoughts, which he often was. Knowing what I did about him, I wasn’t surprised that Carter was obsessed with his work.

  From what little I knew of skinwalkers, they had no time for games or fun. They were all work, all the time. He’d been obsessed with tracking down and killing his sister, and he’d done that. His obsessions had then turned toward his case files. There’d been a brief moment when Carter and I had a fling—my stomach heaved when I thought about it—but I hadn’t known what he really was, and he’d merely used me as a convenient way to work off his frustrations, or at least I had myself convinced of that.

  Carter just wasn’t that interested in the opposite sex, or even the same sex. I was ninety-nine point nine percent convinced that he was asexual.

  “B, I dunno—”

  “Look,” she snapped, “it’s that or nothing. You need me. I need a date.”

  Biting on the corner of my lip, I shook my head. Clearly, she had no idea what he really was, and I wasn’t going to expose Carter’s secrets, not for anyone or anything since he’d earned my grudging loyalty. But—

  As if realizing I wasn’t going to budge, she huffed, leaned in, and whispered for my ears only, “If you think I don’t know, I do.”

  I frowned. “What?”

  Bianca had a refreshing innocence that had lulled even me into believing she was as docile as a newborn pup, but a bright gleam had entered B’s eyes as she turned her stare toward my ex-partner. Her sweet and innocent-looking features transformed suddenly, and for just a moment, I saw the power behind her mask.

  Her eyes turned sharper, her lips thinned, and a shrewdness scratched an indelible mark upon her features, instantly aging her from a slightly funny a
nd clueless youth to a woman who’d seen the brutal and stark realities of life.

  Eyes suddenly glimmering with a dark sheen raked over me. “Who do you think I am, Scar? You know me, and yet you don’t see me. Few of you do.”

  I shivered as I felt the beating of dark wings suddenly pulse against my back. I knew nothing was there. It was a show of Bianca’s prowess, one that no one else in the precinct was aware of as it was directed solely at me, for my own benefit.

  The air was thick with the crush of dark, whispering magick that breathed down my neck. Bianca was doing something few witches would ever allow unless they meant to kill you afterward. She was letting me taste the breadth and scope of her raw power.

  In that one brush, I felt an eternal yawning chasm of darkness so complete and absolute that I knew if I so much as moved, that magick would sink inside my soul and stop me flat.

  Witches were powerful. Every Veiler knew this, and yes, she was absolutely right because I’d never really understood it. She was the keeper of the runes. The diminutive, four-foot-six-inch female with choppy, frizzy hair, who had an unhealthy obsession with Hostess cakes, was showing me exactly what she was made of, and I had to clench down on the metal desk before me just to keep my footing.

  My heart, which rarely beat anymore, turned cold and squeezed to the point of pain, making me weak in the knees and dotting my forehead with droplets of blood-stained sweat.

  I swallowed hard, and she smirked.

  “Don’t worry that I don’t know what I ask. I can assure you that I do. Now...” She sat back, looking relaxed and youthful all over again as she eased the pressure of magick from against me. I sucked in a sharp, stinging breath, bringing my hand to my chest as I gazed upon the once-more bubbly witch with a newfound sense of respect and even a smidge of healthy fear.

  After slipping a nail file off her desk, Bianca worked on her thumbnail. “Well?”

  Wiping my mouth off with the back of my hand, I forced myself to take a steadying breath and shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll talk to him.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Good. Then here you go.”

  She opened her desk drawer and slipped out a torn sheet of cream-colored paper. Written on it was an address and a name: Jezebel.

  I lifted an eyebrow. She’d already known I was coming. Damn, she was good.

  “Tell her Twinkie sent you. Also, whatever you do, don’t look her in the eyes for long. Creepy as hell. Trust me. I look forward to my date with Carter.” She laughed, and I realized it wasn’t just about me getting Carter to consider the date, but that it was all or nothing for her.

  Fisting my tenuous lead, I shoved it into my pocket and clipped a hard nod at her. “Yeah. Thanks for this.”

  She snorted, busily filing her nails again. “No thanks needed. Just doing my job, vampire.”

  Hoping I hadn’t just gotten the short end of the deal, I turned and headed toward Carter’s desk.

  He glanced up with a question in his eyes the moment my shadow fell over him. “Found a little something of interest on the Clan. Forwarded it to your email. I’m following another lead, but I think—”

  I nodded. “Thanks. Look, call me tomorrow, will you? We need to talk.”

  His brow lowered. “Everything okay?”

  Fighting not to look back over my shoulder, I tensely said, “Yeah, sure. I mean, not like I’m getting ready to walk into a den of lions or nothin’.”

  He chuckled, leaned back on his seat, and steepled his fingers. “Course. But look, I was thinking maybe I could try and figure out some way to gain entry to the—”

  I held up my hand. “Look, this is non-negotiable. I’m not dragging you into this mess with me. Merc’s gonna be my plus one, and I’m gonna need a line to the outside in case shit hits the fan.”

  “A wire?” He ran his hand over his head. “They’ll know, Smith. They’ll hear the chatter over the li—”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Not a wire. But I can’t say what right now, not with so many ears all around. Just call me tomorrow. And, um...” I made of show of flicking a piece of imaginary lint off my shoulders while really taking the time to glance back at Bianca’s desk.

  The witch was thoroughly immersed in a wedding magazine. Oh jeez, had my life really come to this? Playing matchmaker for a boogeyman and a black witch? I would have laughed if I had even the slightest sense of humor at the moment.

  “Scar?” Carter asked in confusion.

  Sighing, I shook my head. “Got any plans next week?”

  “Huh? Why would—”

  Wetting my lips, I stuck my hands into my pockets. “Bianca’s got this thing and needs a—”

  “Yeah,” he said without skipping a beat.

  It was my turn to look confused. “What?”

  “Yes.” He nodded again. “I’ll go.”

  “But I didn’t even get a chance to finish saying—”

  An excited gleam, the likes of which I never could have imagined a Sharp Elbows feeling, burned briefly through his golden-eyed gaze before quickly vanishing, making me suddenly question what I’d thought I’d known about the world in general.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  I shook my head, feeling stupid all of sudden. I wondered how I continually failed to see Carter as anything capable of emotion. He’d raised a human daughter, and he’d cried honest-to-God tears when she’d died. I didn’t like the train of my thoughts, didn’t like considering the fact that I could be prejudiced in any way, yet the sick knot in the pit of my stomach attested to that fact.

  “All right, then I’ll call you later.”

  “Yeah,” I murmured, watching as he stood and walked directly toward Bianca’s desk. “Yeah,” I whispered again before sighing and heading out the door.

  It really sucked knowing that sometimes I was just as dumb in death as I’d been in life.

  Chapter 15

  Scarlett

  I pulled up to the nondescript brick-faced building in downtown Silver Creek. We were firmly in witch territory, but that part of the Creek was a neutral zone for all.

  Silver Creek was a giant labyrinth of many different cultures, religions, and Veilers that called the small Appalachian community home. Considering the fact that many oath-sworn enemies lived and worked within a fifty-mile radius of one another was a minor miracle and a testament to the fact that Clarence’s rule in the Creek had been strong overall.

  True, in recent years his mental health had taken a nosedive, but I’d known him before the madness of moon fever had warped his mind, and for the most part, he’d been a pretty fair Alpha with an uncommonly progressive view of the Veiler world.

  As long as one agreed to live by the rules of this land, anyone could call the Creek home. For a backwoods town in Tennessee, the idea had been radical but also surprisingly effective.

  That was why there were witches, vampires, shifters, fae, and a plethora of other minor Veilers that called the place home. Opening my door, I hopped out onto the sidewalk and stared at the nearly identical row houses lining the street.

  The bricks were varying shades of red, the doors all painted a cheery blue. Flowerboxes lined the windowsills, and even in the cool of night, the fragrant scents of roses and sweet peas saturated my olfactory senses.

  A buttery-golden glow of lights flickered on in some of the homes. A few couples were even taking a romantic midnight stroll. An undeniable Norman Rockewellian vibe permeated the neighborhood. Everything was pedantic, normal, and boringly mundane.

  However, what’s seen often isn’t what’s really there, especially with inherently magickal entities like spell casters.

  I brushed a hand down my shirt; relieved I’d taken a quick second to stop off at a gas station on the way here to change. I always kept a spare set in Betsey. There was no way in hell I wanted to head into the witches’ world wearing a cocktail dress. I had a feeling tonight I’d never every advantage I could get, even if it was just swapping boots for heels.

  Glancing toward M
ercer, I waited till he stepped beside me before I asked, “You ready?”

  “Don’t fucking like messing around with the mages,” he grumbled.

  I elbowed him good-naturedly. “Who does?”

  Gripping his hand, I held tight. Unless the incantation was uttered at the same time and we were joined, what Mercer and I wound up seeing would be two completely different worlds. We’d be flung apart toward different regions of the witches’ world, and the likelihood of ever finding each other again would be slim to none.

  In that place, spatial relations—or “scientific realities,” as we knew and understood them to be in our world—held little to no merit in theirs. Think of the witches’ world as a vast M.C. Escher alternate dimension full of twists and turns that could sometimes lead nowhere. The only ways to safely navigate that realm came in two forms: be a witch or be given access by one.

  The scribbled note that Bianca had written for me was our golden ticket inside, so it was imperative that Mercer and I stick to each other like glue until we stepped through the veil.

  Gripping his fingers tightly, I held up the sheet and murmured, “One. Two. Three.”

  Together Mercer and I chanted, “Veritas revelatur,” Latin for “truth revealed.”

  Immediately, the world around us swirled into a kaleidoscopic whirl of shifting colors, sounds, and smells.

  The cool and balmy night was suddenly cloyingly hot and muggy, bringing an instant sheen of sweat to my back and brow. The clean sidewalks became grimy and riddled with potholes full of brackish water that glimmered with the colors of neon.

  Witches were everywhere, walking into buildings that were warped and decaying, seeming to defy gravity in their continued unwillingness to topple as they should.

  The smell of greasy meats and fried foodstuffs offended my nostrils and caused my nose to curl.

  A young male, maybe in his late teens or early twenties turned to eye us. He immediately stood out as a revenant dressed in varying shades of black, with thick swaths of eyeliner rimming his vibrant purple eyes.

  Revenants were basically zombies but with unshakeable allegiances to their witch puppet masters. Revenants could drink, eat, and boink whatever the heck they wanted to and, in many ways, appeared practically human, but the eyes were a dead giveaway, which was why they weren’t permitted to walk freely outside of Oz—a term I’d coined for that place a few years back.