by Ani Gonzalez
He should be taking care of his girl. Why was he fetching videos for a teenage ghost?
"Put it in the DVD player," Luanne shouted. "Hurry."
"Roger." He hung up his jacket slowly. The meds numbed the pain in his arm, but he still had to be careful with his latest gunshot wound. One careless movement would keep him in the injured list for weeks.
At this rate, he was going to beat the N.Y.P.D.'s record for most bullet holes in a year.
So much for his peaceful retirement in the country. Banshee Creek was hazardous to your health.
He took off his shoes and walked to the living room, which was a mess with sofa pillows and lampshades on the floor.
He took the DVDs out of the bag and put one in the machine. He didn't even blink when the television automatically turned on. This was routine by now. Honoria was practicing her powers.
The show's theme song rang out. Only five—or was it six?—seasons to go. What would they do then to keep the resident poltergeist happy? John Hughes movies?
"Thank goodness," Luanne exclaimed.
He ignored the mess in the living room and headed for the kitchen. "How are you feeling?" he called out.
"Better, now that Honoria's not trashing my house."
He chuckled. The kitchen was full of "Get Well" baskets with fruit, candy, and assorted goodies. The Banshee Creek Bakery had delivered enough frosted cookies to feed an army. Sarah, Poltergeist Pizza's manager, had sent two huge pans of pasta. The Chinese restaurant had given them boxes of noodles and two containers of Luanne's favorite dish, Kung Pao chicken. They had enough food to survive a zombie apocalypse.
"It's almost time for your medicine," he shouted.
Actually, medicines plural. The smallish kitchen counters were covered with pill vials. There were painkillers, antibiotics, muscle relaxants, and who knew what else. His wound was just a scratch. Luanne, however, had gone through the wringer.
And, yet, she'd told him to be careful. She hadn't even considered the risk to herself.
This fortune-telling business could use some improvement.
He checked her pill schedule, checked off the boxes and grabbed two vials and a bottle of water from the fridge. The AASC had given them two cases of their "guaranteed pure" water.
And speaking of the AASC...
He made his way to the bedroom, thinking about the latest info from Special Agent Morelli. Luanne would want to know about it, but it was...weird. As he made his way through the house, he noticed that the pillows and lampshades were back in the place. The living room was immaculate.
Luanne was propped up on the bed, her back against a veritable mountain of pillows, including a bright red one that stated "Venus in Scorpio Made Me Do It." Her laptop was on her lap and she was grinning from ear to ear. The room was chock full of flower arrangements and balloons, including a particularly horrid purple and green arrangement that looked like it was made of carnivorous plants. That one was, of course, from Caine and the rest of the guys at PRoVE. The Banshee Creek Botánica had sent a tray of healing candles and crystals, and the room smelled of lavender and chamomile.
"You, my friend, are looking at a girl who," she pumped her fist in the air, "overcame alien conspiracies, ominous visions, and an assassination attempt, and still got all her horoscopes out on the first of the month."
He laughed, relieved. Despite her ordeal, Luanne was positively beaming.
"And," she pointed to her computer screen, "my subscriber list quadrupled. I guess there really is no such thing as bad publicity."
He put the bottles on her nightstand. "Not when the sheriff makes sure everyone knows that you helped solve a murder case. Or when the local paranormal investigations group makes the alleged 'alien landing' video go viral."
"I can't believe I missed that." She glanced down at her screen. "The video looks fantastic."
You missed it because the crazy lady was using you for target practice. But he didn't say that out loud.
"You're not the only one who liked it," he replied. "It was so popular that NASA felt compelled to debunk it. They say it was a localized lighting storm."
Luanne snorted. "There wasn't a cloud in the sky."
"That's their story, and they're sticking to it." He pushed a pile of copies of Astrology Today out of the way and sat next to her on the bed. "How about dinner tonight? We could try that spicy meatball dish Sara sent us."
Her eyes narrowed. "Don't change the subject. What about Larry? Did they find him?"
Sean sighed. "No, the van was in a ditch near the orchard, but there was no Larry. He's disappeared."
Leaving no trace. Larry had closed all his accounts and left instructions as to how his worldly possessions were to be distributed, including leaving his prized collection of denied FOIA requests to the Library of Congress.
He hadn't expected to come back. That was clear.
"They took him," Luanne said firmly. "Just like he said they would."
"You mean the aliens? You sound like Caine. Larry's a mentally unstable young man who probably got scared when he saw all the police. He ditched the van and caught a ride somewhere. We issued an APB, and we're contacting the various UFOlogy groups. He'll turn up."
"Really? Did you find the gold?"
He shook his head. "No. It wasn't in the van."
"So you're saying this guy hitchhiked halfway across the country with two gold bricks? That's your theory?"
He rolled his eyes. "Sure, it's not as well-thought out as your 'abducted by aliens' alternative, but I think I'll stick by it anyway."
Luanne laughed. "Trust me. He's gone where you won't find him."
He raised a brow. "Did your star charts tell you that?"
Her lips curved into a smile. "Kind of."
"Sadly, the rest of the world seems to agree with you. As if my job wasn't hard enough, now I'm in charge of protecting the country's second-most-popular site for alien abductions. Roswell beats us, but just by a hair."
"I, for one, am happy about it. Imagine, if my business keeps improving, I may be able to move to a house that is," she gave a fake gasp, "not haunted."
"In Banshee Creek? Fat chance."
"Okay, maybe one with an elderly ghost who likes listening to Mozart and doesn't write 'Mrs. Sam Winchester' fifty times on the bathroom mirror."
"I don't know. I'm starting to grow fond of Honoria. Her life may not have been fun, but she's having a blast in her afterlife. I've gotten kind of used to her."
"Sure you have. You don't have to live with her."
They looked at each other. Luanne's comment hung in the air. A long silence stretched between them.
Oh, hell, might as well get it over it.
He cleared his throat. "I could, er, you know..."
His voice trailed off. He was actually nervous.
Luanne glanced at him warily. "Could what?"
"You know," he mumbled, avoiding her eyes. "I could help you out while you're bedridden. Keep an eye out. If, you know, we decided..."
Her forehead creased. "Decided what?"
He threw up his hands. "If I moved in. That's what I'm talking about."
She stared at him, eyes wide. "You want to move in? With us?"
"I don't particularly want to live with a lovesick spectral teenager, but she seems to come with the territory..." He dragged a hand through his hair, wishing this moment were over. She didn't seem upset by the idea and it really did make a lot of sense. She was going to have a tough time moving around for the next couple of months.
She pursed her lips, considering his suggestion. She didn't dismiss it right away, but she seemed nervous about it.
He decided to play his trump card. "I could buy you your own Supernatural DVD set. That way you wouldn't have to rely on the library."
That made her smile. "Honoria would like that."
"Holly suggested that we try Vampire Diaries next. She said Honoria would probably enjoy that."
Luanne giggled. "Holly is giving out TV
recommendations to ghosts? That's a new one."
He looked at her face, still pale from her ordeal, but cheerful and strong. "What do you say?"
She gave him a mischievous glance. "I don't know. Let's check your horoscope."
She tapped the laptop's keyboard. "Hmm, this month's horoscope says that changes will come your way, you will overcome obstacles, and you'll achieve your objectives." She grinned. "I guess I can't argue with that, roomie."
"Of course you can't." He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her.
"Hey," she wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes twinkling, "it's written in the stars."
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
HONORIA DELACOURT sat on the sofa, legs crossed, staring at the flickering screen. This was one of her favorite episodes.
She gasped as the handsome, dark-haired demon hunter drove the battered Impala through the haunted bridge. She covered her eyes as the Lady in White appeared in the car and reached for his face.
"Don't worry," her companion said. "Nothing happens to the car."
"I'm not worried about the car," she growled at the ghostly young man sitting next to her, dressed in semi-transparent military fatigues.
"You should be," Cole Hunt said, laughing as he passed her a translucent bowl of popcorn. "It's the best part of the show."
"Ha, ha. Very funny." She grabbed a handful of buttery puffs and put them in her mouth. The sharp, salty crunch hit her spectral tongue, making her moan in pleasure.
It had been a long time since she'd tasted food. She couldn't, not in her ghostly form.
Until now.
The young man next to her could make popcorn you could taste. That was simply amazing. Thanks to his tutelage, she could now watch any episode she wanted, as long as it was in the shiny disc. Pretty soon, she'd be able to change the discs by herself.
It was fantastic.
But it had its dark side.
"You don't get it, do you?" she said. "We're getting stronger and that's great. But, if we're getting stronger," she pointed to the homicidal specter on the screen, "so are they."
"I know," Cole grumbled. "I know. I already took care of the Hagen sister."
Honoria raised her brows. "That's a good start, but there will be others. The hole in the ground attracts them."
"It's called a geomagnetic fault," Cole corrected. "And, yes, it pulls them in. The town has protections, though. We'll be safe."
"Oh, I know about the protections," Honoria said, her lips curving into an unhappy smile. "I put some of them up, you know."
"Yes," Cole said, a sad look in his eyes. "I heard about that."
"Sometimes they don't work," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Sometimes they still get through."
Cole nodded. "Caine and his guys have already found some stuff. That thing in Pennsylvania, for example, and the sightings up in Wisconsin." He sighed. "They're out there."
Honoria examined him as she talked, wondering if he was the kind of person who'd stay holed up in Banshee Creek, safe from harm, while evil wandered the earth.
Her parents hadn't been like that. They'd gone out and fought the bad things, just like Sam and Dean.
And she didn't think Cole was like that either.
"That's not all," he continued. "The devil monkeys are riled up, and the visitors are dropping by with increasing regularity. It's all connected. The fortune teller was talking about some weird convergence event that's going to hit us soon. I'm not sure what it is, but it doesn't sound good."
"It's not," Honoria said, remembering the last convergence.
She'd lost her parents when it hit. The stars made the evil stronger and they hadn't been able to destroy it. Then it had come here, to Banshee Creek, tearing through all the carefully engineered charms and protections, and killed her too.
It was out there, she could feel it in her ghostly bones. That's why she hadn't been able to cross over with her family. It was still around.
But she'd been too weak. She had no memories, no abilities, nothing. She'd just floated around her old house, barely conscious.
Until the show. Until she'd seen the jean-clad boys with their salt shakers and pistols, and she'd remembered who she was. Until Cole had shown up and taught her how to manipulate objects.
Now she remembered. She was Honoria Delacourt. She'd been killed on her sixteenth birthday.
And the evil who'd killed her was still out there.
The last scene flickered on the screen. Dean shot the murderous ghost with rock salt and AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" blared through the speakers.
Honoria looked into Cole's dark eyes.
"So the question is," she drawled, "What are we going to do about it?"
***
Available For Rent: Attractive, spacious (kind of) retail space with an advantageous Main Street address (lots of foot traffic) and plenty of shelving (perfect for, say, selling candles). Back room kitchen has a professional range with industrial sink and can easily be turned into a small manufacturing space (for candle making, for example). Reasonable rent with a (smallish) paint allowance. Living space above the shop can also be rented (minor paranormal phenomena has been documented, you won't even know it's there). Businesses with supernatural/mystical/spiritual/natural themes preferred (for instance, magical candles and votives). Banshee Creek Fire & Rescue inspection and certification required (sorry, can't waive that). If interested please contact Elizabeth Hunt at Banshee Creek Realty. Email: [email protected] Phone: (703) 662-GHOST.
***
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this story. If you did, I'd love it if you took a moment and left a review. A full list of books is available on my website, www.AniGonzalez.com. If you join my mailing list you'll get updates on when the next Banshee Creek stories are published and the first PRoVE novelettes, A Night with the Golden Goddess and One Night in the Mummy's Lair, FREE.
Turn the page to check out the next book in the Main Street Witches series, Some Like it Witchy.
Thank you for reading - Ani.
Some Like it Witchy (Main Street Witches #3)
Candlemaking witch Fiona Hart knows that Banshee Creek is the perfect place for her new store. Unfortunately, handsome firefighter Gavin MacKay doesn't agree. When a visiting tourist dies using her top-of-line Sorceress' Best candles, Fiona must find the culprit before the dreaded Banshee Creek Fire & Rescue Department closes down her shop forever.
***
HERE Comes the Witch (Main Street Witches #1)
Jewelry designer Kat Ramos comes to Banshee Creek to break the famous Hagen House curse. In order to do that, she must marry Liam Hagen. Love isn't part of the deal, and neither is a vengeful ghost. Will Kat be able to handle both?
Copyright and Disclaimer
Copyright © April 2016, Ani Gonzalez
Cover Art by Ani Gonzalez © April 2016
Copy Edited by Ebook Editing Pro
Produced in U.S.A.
Published by Ani Gonzalez
25883 N Park Ave
Suite 520608
Elkhart, Indiana 46514
http://www.AniGonzalez.com
Fortune Favors the Witch is a work of fiction and the characters, events and dialogue found within the story are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is completely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any from or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email and printing without permission in writing from the author.
moz-filter: grayscale(100%); -o-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share
