A Wild Ghost Chase

by Elle Adams

  “Wow,” said the girl behind the counter. “I can see why Carey wanted to hire you. What did you do, put out an ad in the paper?”

  “She did an interview once,” Carey said. “It was on Hannah’s Hauntings.”

  “Oh, you’re famous?” Her eyes sharpened with interest.

  “No,” I said quickly. “It was a one-time thing, years ago, and… never mind. I think I should—”

  “Carey?” a voice said from behind me.

  She spun around, her eyes brightening. “Oh, hey, Mum. This is the Reaper Witch.”

  If everyone in the restaurant hadn’t already thought I was an oddity, they definitely did now. The woman in front of me looked like an older version of Carey, minus the school uniform. Her long brown hair was streaked with grey, while she wore a vibrant red cloak and a matching pair of spectacles balanced on the end of her nose. Her socks were also red, patterned with broomsticks like Carey’s.

  “Just call me Maura,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Allie Forbes.” She stuck out her hand for me to shake. “Carey told me everything about you. She showed me the interview, too.”

  “She did?” I’d honestly forgotten what I’d even said in that interview. It was years ago, back when I’d thought I might still be able to make a go of this ghost-hunting thing. Several near-miss situations with the Reaper Council had since crushed that notion. I shook her hand quickly and reached for an excuse to get out.

  “She said we have some ghosts here in the restaurant,” Carey told her mother.

  “We do?” Allie’s gaze flickered around the tables. “Not dangerous ones?”

  “Nah, they’re fine,” I said. “Ready to move on, I’d say. I’m surprised the Reaper hasn’t seen to their departure.”

  “Oh.” She gave a brief glance at the patrons, who’d gone back to their meals as though they weren’t listening in on our conversation. “There hasn’t really been an official Reaper here for a while… our last one retired without a replacement.”

  “Meaning he’s turned his back on us,” said a nearby wizard in a carrying whisper.

  So the Reaper was well-known, then? If not for the rain, I might have taken the opportunity to go looking for him. Granted, I was more tempted to take the detective’s advice and get out of here while I had the chance, but there was no way I’d let a rude stranger dictate my life choices. I needed the money, and whatever Carey’s mum said, this town seemed lacking in a Reaper to clean things up in the ghost department. I was kind of surprised the Reaper Council hadn’t already paid a visit, given the state of the place. The ghosts didn’t look like they were suffering in torment or badgering the residents, for the most part, but they also shouldn’t be hanging around a family restaurant. At least it seemed most of the guests couldn’t see their ghostly visitors.

  Some of the tension left me when a few people walked up to the bar to order drinks, taking some of the attention off us.

  “Is that true?” I asked Carey’s mother in a low voice. “Who is the Reaper, anyway?”

  “Old Harold isn’t known for being social,” she said. “Reclusive, you know… I haven’t seen him in years. Anyway, what happened with Mrs Renner? Did you see her ghost?”

  “No, but I did hear her.” I glanced around, but since everyone had returned to their own conversations, I didn’t think they were eavesdropping any longer. “She yelled at us to get out.”

  Her brows shot up. “That’s why you left?”

  “No,” I said. “Not because of her, anyway. Some guy calling himself Detective Drew Gardener booted us out because he said we were trespassing on a crime scene.”

  “What absolute nonsense,” she said. “There’s no open investigation—not an official one, anyway. Of course there’s gossip about the old woman’s death not being an accident… poor Carey had to deal with some nasty comments about that, but that’s more due to the unfortunate circumstances than anything else.”

  I frowned. “What does that mean?”

  Carey winced. “I found the body, so… some of the other kids at the academy started spreading rumours around.”

  “Right, the detective said you found Mrs Renner,” I recalled. “What happened?”

  “I heard a crash inside the house when I was walking past,” she mumbled. “So I knocked on the door, and it wasn’t locked or properly shut. I saw her lying in the hallway, and I called the police. I swear I had nothing to do with it.”

  I had to admit it was very unlikely that she’d done anything to hurt the old woman. Besides, who was I to blame her for keeping that little piece of information a secret? I had enough skeletons in my closet to throw a party in there.

  “I believe you,” I said, “but if her death wasn’t an accident and there is an investigation going on, I don’t want to step on any toes.”

  Especially if they belonged to an annoying so-called paranormal investigator.

  “I’ll tell the detective we hired you, and that should take care of the problem,” said Allie. “Carey, dear, will you go and tell Hayley to get Maura a drink? What would you like?”

  I glanced over my shoulder. The rain wasn’t clearing up, and besides, it wouldn’t hurt to stick around here and hope Careys mother could shed more light on the town’s history. I’d already made a mental note to pay a visit to the Reaper.

  “I’ll have a coke, please.” I’d save the heavy drinking until later. If I was going to visit a reclusive Reaper who’d been neglecting his duty for years, I’d need it.

  4

  I hadn’t intended to stay in the restaurant all afternoon, but the rain didn’t let up until early evening. Carey still seemed to be under the impression I’d be staying more than a day, which I’d really prefer to avoid—even if the idea of flying on a broomstick in the dark was as unappealing as the idea of flying in a heavy thunderstorm.

  Allie was a talker, it turned out, and within two hours, I knew everything there was to know about the hotel and the restaurant, not to mention the tourism issues the town had been having over the last few years. While she didn’t directly blame the ghosts, I was pretty sure they had something to do with the high levels of mist hanging over the rooftops and the general atmosphere of gloominess. The inn and restaurant had few permanent staff, which meant Carey helped out most weekends and after school. Allie insisted she head off to do her homework in the early evening, while I went to look out the window and found the rain had finally stopped.

  I headed over to Carey’s mother. “Allie, whereabouts did you say the local Reaper lived?”

  “He lives in a small cottage next to the graveyard,” she said. “That’s down the road from the local witch academy. You can’t miss it. Are you sure you want to visit him, though? He doesn’t like strangers.”

  “I’ll be honest with you,” I said. “This town has a rampant ghost problem. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s not just about Mrs Renner—though I can ask him about her, too, and see if I can get any answers on why she stuck around.”

  “It’s up to you,” said Allie. “I wouldn’t advise you to bother him unless there’s no other choice, but who knows, maybe he’ll be willing to talk to you.”

  That didn’t sound promising, but the Reaper ought to have the authority over Drew the paranormal investigator who didn’t believe in ghosts. It was about time I found out how a Reaper had let the town become completely overrun by spirits. This wasn’t the result of a few weeks of neglect, but a few years at least. Pretty much unheard of in a magical community.

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll be back later.”

  When I left the restaurant, I saw ghostly figures drifting up and down the streets, mingling with the living people crossing the bridge over the river and heading home from school or work. Some of them might as well have been dead for longer than I’d been alive. Allie had already told me she’d raised Carey more or less single-handedly after the death of her husband a decade ago, as well as running the hotel, but I hadn’t asked if
his ghost was among the town’s inhabitants.

  Frankly, I didn’t even know where to begin with the ghosts, so my best bet was to check in with the person whose job revolved around them. More than a job. Reaping is a life calling, and one did not turn one’s back on it without consequences. Even someone like me, half witch and half Reaper, with no ties to the Council.

  I crossed the bridge and turned down the street, following Allie’s directions.

  “Hey!” Mart caught me up, huffing indignantly. “You never asked if I was okay after my frightening experience in old Mrs Renner’s house.”

  I slowed down to let him catch up. “Did you see her ghost? Is that why you yelled?”

  “No, of course not,” he said. “I heard that detective stomping around and thought I was done for.”

  I snorted. “I doubt it was that traumatising for you. He doesn’t even believe you exist.”

  “How dare he?” His arms folded across his chest. “Thanks for the existential crisis. It’s going to keep me up all night, that is.”

  “You don’t sleep anyway.” I walked on, hands in my pockets. “Anyway, you’re going to have to hide when I see the Reaper.”

  “Oh, you’re finally doing something useful?” Mart said. “I thought you were going to sit around chatting all day.”

  “It was raining, and that detective kicked us out the house,” I reminded him. “Besides, you don’t need to ride a broomstick in the rain to get home.”

  “I’m tied to wherever you are, in case you’ve forgotten,” he said in sullen tones. “I’m stuck in this town as long as you are.”

  “But you can still explore,” I pointed out. “Which I’m assuming is what you were doing while I was talking to Carey and her mum. Find any interesting ghosts?”

  He shrugged. “None as interesting as I am. Say, is that your new friend?”

  I spotted Detective Drew ahead of me and took a sharp turn to the right to avoid him. “He’d better not be visiting the Reaper, too.”

  “Not if he doesn’t believe in ghosts.”

  “Weirdo.” I buried my hands in my pockets. While I’d got a few more ideas of how the town had come to be in this state—most regions had at least one permanent Reaper assigned, if not more—I was no closer to understanding why Detective Drew had claimed to be running an official investigation into Mrs Renner’s death. Not that I wanted another conversation with him, so I carried on my way.

  My detour added a good ten minutes to my walk, but I was glad of it when I reached the local cemetery and found it blissfully detective-free. A small brick cottage at the foot of the hill was numbered 42. There were no other houses on the road at all, so I assumed the numbering was just another local quirk. That, or a joke.

  “Is that a Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy reference?” Mart peered at the number on the door.

  “Ask the Reaper.” I walked up to the cottage door and knocked.

  “Go away!” yelled a voice from inside.

  I squinted through the blurred glass window, but I couldn’t see who spoke to me. “I’m here to talk to the Reaper.”

  “The Reaper is retired,” he responded.

  “Not if there’s no replacement.”

  The door flew open. A scowling grey-haired man stood in the doorway, his eyes startlingly blue. Reapers might look human, but most regular people would describe our eyes as otherworldly. Or terrifying. No wonder some people called us the Angels of Death. Luckily, I got most of my genes from my mother’s side, and not every Reaper would recognise me as one of them right off. From his scowl, he hadn’t figured it out yet.

  “What’s it to you?” he said. “Why’ve you come to disturb me?”

  “I’m here to talk to you,” I told him. “I’m Maura, and I’m visiting Hawkwood Hollow to help deal with a troublesome spirit.”

  “Visiting, are you?” He halted beside a tall coat rack from which a long dark cloak hung. Wait, that wasn’t a coat rack… that was a scythe he’d hung his coat from. If ever I’d needed proof that he’d hung up his Reaper coat, that was it.

  “May I come in?” I pressed.

  “Fine, fine.” He backed into the doorway, affording me a closer view of the menacing curved tool he’d hung his coat and hat on. I’d never seen a Reaper use their most powerful Reaping tool as a piece of furniture before. Then again, this guy called the shots in the area.

  The inside of the cottage left a lot to be desired, too. Dirty carpets held years of grime and a thick layer of dust covered the furniture, as though it hadn’t been cleaned in a very long time, if ever. I wondered how long ago he’d retired and left the town to end up mired in ghosts. If there’d been no major disasters in recent times, then it must have been at least a decade. No wonder the place was overrun. No ghosts lurked inside his house, though it would be simple for him to get rid of them.

  I cleared my throat. “So, you may have noticed there’s a lot of ghosts around here.”

  He grunted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Right. It seemed he was well aware of the problem. Which he would be, if he was one of the few residents who could actually see them. “Did you hear about old Mrs Renner? She died recently, and her ghost is being disruptive to everyone who tries to go into her house and renovate the place.”

  He backed into a cluttered living room, sat down in an armchair with half the stuffing spilling out, and lit up a cigarette. The smell of smoke infiltrated the hall and I stifled a cough.

  “So, I’m looking for an explanation as to why she won’t leave,” I added, in case he hadn’t got my meaning.

  “Ask her, not me,” he said. “I haven’t been near the place.”

  “I’ve heard her death might not have been an accident,” I went on. “Is there a procedure for removing angry ghosts? Or do you always hire people from outside?”

  Like Detective Drew, for instance?

  “As I told you—” He exhaled in a puff of smoke, making my eyes water—“I haven’t been near the place. If you’ve seen her ghost, then ask her what she’s sticking around for. Not me.”

  His attitude was starting to grate on my nerves. “I haven’t seen her ghost. I have heard her yelling, and our esteemed paranormal investigator refuses to believe she’s there. I came to you because of all the people in town, I assume you can see and deal with stubborn spirits who won’t leave after death. Given the scythe in your hallway, it’s clear I came to the right place. Why haven’t you offered to help out?”

  “I’m retired,” he grunted. “No more Reaping for me.”

  “Didn’t you have an apprentice to take over from you?” I asked.

  “No!” He removed his cigarette from his mouth and threw it at me. I ducked on instinct, and it hit the door frame, fizzling out on contact.

  “Hey!” I backed into the hallway. “I’m not here to usurp your position, but this town will end up on the list of the regional Reaper Council if you don’t deal with some of those ghosts. It’s your job, and your duty.”

  Oh, great. Now I sounded exactly like my father.

  “Who are you to lecture me about duty, you posh little witchling?” He picked up another cigarette. “Get out of my house.”

  Shadows flooded the room, spreading outward from his feet. His eyes glowed brighter, while the room darkened by the second. While he wasn’t a tall or imposing man, there was something forbidding about him which hadn’t been there before, despite the lack of a scythe in his hand.

  I summoned up my own shadows in retaliation. I didn’t even have to think about it. Darkness flew to my hands, and anyone who looked at me would see nothing behind me but an endless black hole. No scythe on my side, either, but I didn’t need one.

  The Reaper stopped mid-motion, the shadows receding. Even he wouldn’t attack another Reaper, even an unconventional one like me.

  “Get out,” he said. “Now.”

  I turned away and left the cottage in case he changed his mind about attacking me. So much for getting the local Reaper
on my side. I closed the door behind me and marched downhill away from the cottage. My anger levels spiked, and I muttered some choice curses under my breath.

  “Wow,” said Mart. “That guy was scary. I hid outside in case he banished me.”

  “Depends what he can do without a scythe,” I commented. “He was using it to hang his coat on, would you believe it? If I told the Reaper Council that, they’d confiscate it and probably put him on probation.”

  “Are you going to contact the Reaper Council?” he said.

  “I don’t know.” On the one hand, the Reaper’s incompetence had clearly caused a lot of hassle for the town’s residents. On the other, I wasn’t a snitch.

  Besides, I’d rather do almost anything else rather than speak to the Reaper Council again.

  “Well?” Mart flew alongside me. “Make your mind up. You’ll have to decide soon if you’re going to stay overnight or fly home with me.”

  “We can’t all fly without a broomstick.” My mind was stuck on the Reaper. If there’s one thing I hated, it was loose ends. I didn’t want to leave the town behind, and aside from the detective and the Reaper, everyone had been perfectly friendly so far… but the fact remained that this was not a good place to stay if one had a tendency to attract ghostly attention.

  Then again, I’d already shown them—and the Reaper—what I was capable of. And I wasn’t a quitter.

  I retraced my steps to the restaurant, which had filled up with more people since I’d been gone. Carey waved me over from a table in the corner where she sat doing her homework with a small black cat perched on the chair opposite her.

  “Hey.” I pulled up a vacant seat, the smell of the food making me realise I was ravenous. “Who’s he?”

  “Casper is my familiar,” she said. “He can see ghosts, but he’s frightened of them, so he doesn’t come ghost-hunting with me.”

  “Oh.” I decided not to mention that a cat who was afraid of ghosts and a blogger who couldn’t actually see them weren’t a winning combination for a ghost-themed blog. She’d experienced enough disappointment today already. “My meeting with the Reaper didn’t go well. He didn’t care about Mrs Renner’s ghost and wouldn’t help. Threw a cigarette at me, too.”