by Paula Lester
Zoey screeched and threw herself to the side, not wanting to feel the disgusting, cool, slimy feeling that happened when a ghost brushed past live skin. Kelli and Steve jumped out of the way too, but Maria didn’t move fast enough. She tilted onto one foot and teetered there, eyes and mouth as big as fifty-cent pieces as the ghost touched her face and arm on its way past. Steve dove to help Maria, getting her steadied before she fell over. By the time everyone got their bearings, the ghost had catapulted past the others and down the stairs to the first floor.
“We have a ghost now? When did that happen?” Jerry’s long hair was matted on the right side of his head where it must have been resting on his pillow before the commotion woke him.
“Apparently, since just now.” Zoey groaned. They’d only had one other ghost in the retirement home, and though this one didn’t seem as dangerous as the first, she still didn’t really want to welcome it with open arms. It might be harmless, but it was loud. In the middle of the night.
“We need Bob,” Steve said, keeping an arm around Maria to make sure she remained steady.
“I’ll call her. You guys follow the ghost and keep an eye on it so we know where it is when she gets here.” Zoey ran back into her room and grabbed her cell phone off the end table. Scrolling through the contacts, she found the one she wanted and tapped it, bringing the phone up to her ear.
Bob didn’t sound sleepy at all when she answered. Zoey glanced at the digital clock on her bedside table. It was two in the morning. Why didn’t the reaper sound tired? “I’m sorry to bother you in the middle of the night, but we have a ghost. Can you come help us cross him over?”
“That’s my job, so yeah, I can totally come do that.” Bob always sounded sarcastic, and Zoey had never figured out whether she really meant it that way or if it just happened to be her normal tone of voice. She’d always let it slide because word on the street was Bob was the best reaper since the original version.
And, while it wasn’t a pleasant aspect of the job, being Head of Staff at a retirement home meant it was necessary to keep a reaper on retainer. Once in a while, a resident passed away, and the last thing the staff or the person’s family ever wanted was for the poor departed soul not to make it to the other side because there wasn’t a professional guide on hand.
Nope, there was no way Zoey would risk that. Bob made a pretty penny to be available at the drop of a hat, including at two in the morning. But that was fine because it meant Zoey would never have to frantically try to track down a reaper while a retiree’s soul floated around aimlessly, unable to pass over or worse, got lost and ended up spending decades, confused and bored, on the wrong plane.
“I’m on my way,” Bob said firmly. “It’ll take me about fifteen minutes to get there. In the meantime, keep an eye on the ghost. Try to contain it with a salt circle and some iron.” She paused. “Who is it?”
“I have no idea. It isn’t a resident. It . . . he, I think . . . just showed up a few minutes ago, banging on cymbals, and woke us all up. To my knowledge, he hasn’t been around here before.”
A tongue-clicking sound came over the phone and then Bob said, “That’s strange.” There was another short pause and when she spoke again, her tone was back to normal. “If you can’t contain the ghost for me, it’ll take a lot longer to get him crossed over.”
Zoey started to answer, but the screen light came on, letting her know Bob had ended the call. Zoey stuck her tongue out at the phone. Bob was lucky she was good at her job because Zoey didn’t like putting up with sassy employees.
If she was going to be chasing a ghost around, Zoey decided she’d be more comfortable in real clothes and shoes. She pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt along with some socks and sneakers before leaving her room again.
When she got downstairs, she found that someone had already thought of iron. Steve and Kelli each held a fireplace poker. “We need salt too!” Zoey raced past her two employees toward the kitchen where she pawed through cupboards until she found a container of salt. She bit back a curse—there wasn’t very much left. Turning on her heel, she jogged back to the common room. “There’s only a little salt. We’ll have to be careful with it. Where did the ghost go?”
Steve shrugged as he spun in a slow circle, holding the poker in front of himself. “We lost it.”
“Great. Okay, let’s spread out and look for it in different spots. If you find it, shout for the rest of us and try to contain it with your iron. I’ll take the salt. I didn’t see the ghost in the kitchen, so let’s check the other two common rooms. We’ll try not to wake the other residents, but we might have to check their suites if we can’t find it.”
The others nodded, and all three of them took off toward the rooms Zoey had assigned. Three of the retirees each chose a staff member to follow. Travis sat on a chair and crossed an ankle over his knee, muttering about gold and silver. Internally, Zoey rolled her eyes. The miserly man was always prattling on about his vault full of treasures, but somehow, he and his children could never pay the monthly bill for the retirement home on time. She was constantly phoning the adult kids to ask for the money they owed.
As Steve and Kelli headed toward the other common areas, Zoey checked the laundry room and two bathrooms but didn’t see the ghost. Then she heard Steve’s shout followed by clanging cymbals. She followed the noise to one of the common rooms, which held a ping-pong table, two reading nooks with overstuffed chairs, and a huge bay window overlooking the tree-lined side street where Zoey’s old Chevy sat parked. Kelli raced into the room behind Zoey, and they both stopped short to survey the situation. Steve stood facing the ghost, holding his iron poker up like a sword, and the spirit hung close to the ceiling, banging the cymbals and laughing maniacally. Little Maria stood directly behind Steve, peeking out from around his broad back to snatch glimpses of the spirit.
Zoey shot forward, intending to make a salt circle on the floor in the area the ghost hovered above, but before she could sprinkle any, the thing floated to another section of the room.
Zoey felt a sudden wave of fatigue, like giant weights pulled her muscles toward the floor. She wanted nothing so much as to go back upstairs, put earplugs in, and crawl into bed. But she was in charge, and there was no way she could leave the others to take care of this problem without her. She’d just have to push the tired feelings aside and get it done. Still, by the time she made it across the room with the salt, the spirit was elsewhere again.
“I’ll get my lasso!” Snores Pickett’s voice shouted from the room’s doorway, surprising Zoey. He could sleep through anything—she was truly surprised the ghost’s noises had managed to wake him. But she liked the idea of him getting his magical lasso to grab the ghost and hold it steady. Before he’d retired, John “Snores” Pickett had been in magical law enforcement. Of course, since then, Sunnyside had closed down that department and outlawed the tool he was talking about. He’d managed to keep the fact that he still had one under wraps for years but revealed it to use against an invading poltergeist a few months earlier.
“You don’t have it anymore, remember? Luke confiscated it.” Luke Kellen, Sunnyside’s chief homicide detective, hadn’t particularly liked being caught in the lasso and almost having the life squeezed out of him. Go figure.
Snores swore a few times. “Well,” he finally said. “I can at least bring more salt. I have a shaker in my room.”
“Snores!” Maria put her hands on her hips. “You’re not supposed to have salt. The doctor said your heart can’t take it.”
“I know, I know. And I won’t have it in my room anymore after tonight, will I?” He disappeared, and Maria shook her head.
The ghost managed to dart past Kelli’s iron rod and out the door, almost like it wanted to chase Snores and somehow keep him from retrieving the salt. But instead of following the old cop, the spirit coursed back toward the big common room near the complex’s front door.
“Why do we need iron? This thing isn’t a fairy.” Jerry s
huffled along behind the others as they tore after the ghost, arms crossed and a disgruntled look on his face.
“Bob says iron stops them, so we’re using iron. We do what Bob says—she’s the boss when it comes to ghosts,” Zoey said, sounding much brighter than she felt.
Jerry grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue more.
The ghost had disappeared again, and everyone stood in the common room turning in slow circles, their heads swinging back and forth as they tried to spot it.
A crash came from Kelli’s office, and they all spun in that direction. Kelli charged forward, and Zoey couldn’t help but grin. A friendly donkey put the lady on top of her desk, huddled in fear, but a crazy, cymbal-clanging ghost didn’t make the receptionist cower at all. “Why, you!” she shouted. “That’s mine. Have some respect!”
Inching forward, Zoey tried to see what Kelli was upset about. On the floor of the office was a shattered picture of the receptionist standing next to two older people who must be her parents. Rushing forward, the receptionist shoved the iron at the ghost savagely, appearing as though she was trying to impale him. As fast as she could, Zoey poured salt from one doorframe to the other, creating a line of it across the doorway. It was a sparse line, though, and she was out of salt.
Once she’d picked up the picture, Kelli held it to her chest and crossed over the salt line, careful not to disturb it. Zoey could see the woman’s eyes were misty. Steve put an arm around Kelli and squeezed.
The ghost surged forward, but when it got to the salt, it stopped, looking down. Then its facial features twisted into a grin. “Is this all you have? It’ll only cause a slight burn. I can get through it.”
Someone brushed past Zoey, and she realized Snores was back. He hastily dumped more salt over the thin line Zoey had already deposited across the doorway. The ghost frowned and backed up.
“Okay, where are we?” The strong, projected, female voice made Zoey heave a sigh of relief. Bob, the reaper, had arrived.
The dark-skinned woman was strikingly beautiful, with short black ringlets around her head and full, red-painted lips. She usually wore bright gold, glittery eyeshadow, but it looked like she’d forgone it due to the late hour.
“He’s over here,” Zoey said. “Gave us quite a chase. I think we have enough salt in the doorway now.”
Bob approached the office door and leaned against the doorjamb, crossing one ankle over the other and putting a hand on her hip. “Why are you causing trouble here tonight?” she asked. “And how did you get here?”
The ghost banged his cymbals together and laughed. “I’ve outrun you and your reaper buddies for ten years.”
Bob smiled slightly and nodded. “I see. Where have you been?”
“Where the reapers can’t go. In the in-between.”
That made Bob’s eyebrows raise a centimeter. It was the most surprised Zoey had ever seen her look. The reaper whistled softly. “What made you risk coming back within our reach?”
“I was called.” More cymbals. Zoey wished Bob would just cross the ghost over and be done with it so they could stop hearing the horrible sound.
“Who called you?”
That made Zoey stop and pay attention. Bob thought someone had actively summoned the spirit to the retirement home?
“I don’t know that, reaper. I only know I was pulled here to make noise and cause a ruckus.” He paused and frowned. “I didn’t know these folks would be able to catch me so fast.”
“Or that they had a reaper on the payroll, I’ll wager.” Bob stepped over the salt and held a hand out gracefully toward the spirit. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll help you.” Her voice had taken on a melodious, fluid sound. It was almost hypnotizing.
The ghost shook its head and floated backward.
“Don’t you want to go home? Where it’s warm and full of light?” Bob’s voice was soft, almost like a purr, and the ghost stopped moving to study her. “You can play there—your cymbals and any other instruments you want. You can even join the choir. Do you like to sing?” Bob was moving incrementally closer, and the ghost seemed to be captivated by her gaze. “I’ll take you the whole way. Just you and me. You’ll tell me everything you want remembered about your life, and I promise to never forget any of it. I’ll pass it on so your memory is eternal. And then we’ll be there, and I’ll take you inside. It’s so much warmer than the in-between. And as beautiful as anything you could ever imagine.” With the last word, Bob touched the ghost. Her fingers didn’t move through his ethereal body like Zoey’s would—instead they stopped just as if he were solid. Then, slowly, they both began to fade from view. As they did, Bob continued to talk softly and smile angelically, speaking about the beauty and awe of the place she was going to escort the ghost.
Then they were gone. Zoey took a deep breath and felt her legs begin to give way beneath her. She was so exhausted. Steve shot to her side, holding her up with one arm while still keeping Kelli close with the other. “Let’s get some sleep, friends,” he said softly. As they crossed to the stairs, Zoey smiled at the residents she passed, all of whom had sleepy faces and shuffling feet as they started back toward their rooms. Except Travis and Snopes, who both slept in chairs already.
The job of Head of Staff at the Sunnyside Retired Witches Community might be exhausting some days, but her residents were worth it. Still, as Zoey leaned heavily on the railing and climbed the stairs, she couldn’t help but think that the day she’d just experienced had been more over-the-top than usual. Something strange was going on.
Chapter 5
“I need coffee. Black. As fast as possible,” Zoey croaked to the young woman she found in the kitchen. Once the mug was in her hand, she sat on a bar stool and leaned her elbows on the counter. She put her head on one fist and groaned.
“Rough day yesterday?” The other woman bustled around the kitchen with a washcloth, wiping down surfaces. She picked a piece of chocolate cake out of a crevice and tossed it in the trash.
“The roughest. Plus, we had an issue involving cymbals, chasing, and being on high alert at two in the morning. Then I couldn’t fall back to sleep for a while. I feel like a zombie.” Forcing herself to lift her head, she studied the woman. “Your name’s Ashley, right?”
Nodding, the new chef crossed over and held a hand out for Zoey to shake. “Ashley Briggs. It’s nice to meet you.”
Zoey nodded. “You too. Thanks for jumping in like you did yesterday. It made a tough day easier. And dinner was super yummy.”
Ashley grinned. She had shoulder-length, medium-brown hair and wispy bangs. “I love cooking for people.”
“And it shows.” Steve had entered the kitchen and sat next to Zoey. Ashley brought him a cup of coffee, a tiny pitcher of cream, and a jar of sugar with a spoon. “See? She already knows what I put in my coffee. She’s great.”
“What can I make you both for breakfast?”
Zoey’s stomach grumbled at the thought of food. “I could use something substantial, like eggs and bacon.”
“Coming up. What kind of toast do you like?”
“Surprise me.” The coffee had hit her bloodstream, and she felt strong enough to allow her neck to do its own work holding her head up without her arm’s assistance. It had been nice of Steve to handle the issue of hiring a new chef, but Zoey knew she really needed to perform at least a cursory interview before trusting the newcomer around the residents. The buck stopped with her, after all. “Where are you from?”
Ashley refilled Zoey’s mug before she could get up to grab the carafe herself. Then the chef immediately got to work starting another pot of coffee. “Connecticut.”
Zoey’s eyebrows shot up. “What brings you to Sunnyside?” It wasn’t the kind of town people ended up in by chance.
Ashley shrugged and poured water into the coffee maker. “I was tired of winter. I decided California might be nice. I’ve just been driving, taking my time, and doing odd jobs in small towns as I went to get by. I like Sunnyside—it’s quaint.”
Zoey gave Steve a pointed look. Ashley sounded like a non-supernatural person, but she couldn’t work at the retirement home if she wasn’t aware of the existence of magic. Steve nodded. “She figured Sunnyside out. Saw some town natives using magic to paint a fence over near the library. After that, she paid attention and, of course, saw a lot more of it.”
Zoey cast her gaze back toward the new chef, who had narrow-set brown eyes and a medium complexion. “And it doesn’t freak you out? The whole ‘paranormal world alongside your normal one that you never knew anything about before’ thing?”
Ashley pulled her hair on top of her head and stuck a hairnet over it and then crossed the floor to wash her hands at the big stainless steel sink. “It’s exciting. I wish I’d been born special like you.”
There were days Zoey wished she’d gotten her dad’s non-magical genes instead of her mom’s super-powerful witchy ones. But she could understand how being magical would seem cool to a normal human young person. As she watched Ashley get eggs and bacon out of the refrigerator, something niggled at the edges of Zoey’s mind. Something didn’t seem one hundred percent right about the woman and her story. But there was no doubt she could handle herself in the kitchen. And Steve obviously totally loved her.
“So you’re thinking about settling down here? Staying in Sunnyside indefinitely?” If she was just passing through, they’d need to put an ad out for a new chef.
But Ashley nodded. “I like it here,” she repeated. “I don’t know if I’ll want to stay forever, but, at least for now, I’m staying put. It will be nice to stop traveling for a while.” She stopped whipping eggs and looked at Zoey, her eyebrows drawn together. “Is that okay?”
Zoey bit her lower lip. “Have you had a job like this before? Cooking three meals a day plus assorted snacks for a large crowd?”
