Cursed Romance

by Raven Snow

  Rowen and the others stepped out into the hall. “You guys want some coffee?” Rose asked with a sigh. “I could use some coffee.”

  Everyone gathered in the kitchen, leaning on counters or sitting on them while they waited for the coffee to brew. It was there that Rose’s reasoning for inviting Margo and Jasper became clear. “Jasper,” she began, eyes on the coffee dripping rhythmically into the pot. “Has anything bad ever happened to the couples in your family?”

  Rowen knew what she was getting at immediately. Jasper on the other hand didn’t seem to follow. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, does a Stonewall ever marry someone and then they… die or get hurt or… I don’t know. Something along those lines.”

  Jasper looked around the room, like he was searching for a further explanation of what Rose was talking about from someone else. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pinstriped trousers. “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t think so. I mean, no more than regular people I would think. These things happen. Why?”

  “Because they happen to the Greensmith family with a slightly higher frequency than they do to most,” said Margo.

  “They think they’re cursed,” Eric said in way of explanation.

  “Think?” Rowen repeated, shooting her husband a dirty look. “We already talked about this, and you’ve been in this family long enough to know this doesn’t just come down to what we think. There’s some kind of curse on this family.”

  “A curse?” Jasper repeated, pushing off the counter and standing up straight. “What kind of curse?”

  “The kind that kills off spouses and boyfriends and stuff,” said Margo.

  Jasper turned to Margo, his eyes wide. “And you didn’t think to warn me about this?”

  Margo shrugged. “You’re a Stonewall. I figured you knew.”

  “Why would I know?” Jasper demanded.

  “I always figured it was the Stonewalls that cursed us,” Margo reasoned. It was a popular theory in her family. Granted, the Greensmiths and the Stonewalls tended to blame each other for a great deal of things.

  “I haven’t heard about any curse.” Jasper kept right on staring at Margo. “You didn’t think to maybe… I dunno… bring that up? The idea that I might be killed by a curse?”

  “I dunno. None of my boyfriends have ever been killed,” Margo reasoned. “I wasn’t too worried about it.”

  “The coffee is ready,” said Rose, trying to put an end to that awkward thread of conversation. She grabbed some mugs from a cabinet and the milk from the fridge. “So, I know you haven’t heard about it, but do you think you could ask your parents if they have?” she asked, looking to Jasper. “I’d really like to know.”

  “You don’t think your parents would have asked ages ago if the curse was a thing?” Eric still wasn’t totally buying into the whole curse business. “It seems like something they would have looked into, especially your aunts. They all got married recently. Why would they do that if they were worried about some curse?”

  Rose shook her head. “You’re right. I’m being stupid.”

  “I didn’t say you were stupid.”

  “No, it’s dumb. Forget I said anything. This was just an accident.” Rose went back to pouring coffee. She handed Eric the first mug.

  While Rose’s back was turned, Margo nudged Rowen, her fingers brushing her arm. “Huh?” Rowen looked to her cousin in time to see Margo incline her head toward the back door.

  “I need a cigarette more than I need coffee,” said Margo, heading for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  “That’s a terrible habit,” Rose said, watching Margo go with a frown.

  Jasper nodded in agreement. “I keep trying to tell her that.”

  Rowen took the coffee mug offered to her by Rose. She muttered a thank you while trying to think up her own excuse for following Margo outside. “I… need to make a quick phone call,” she finished rather lamely. “I’ll… be right back, too.” She felt suspicious eyes on her back as she headed out, leaving through the same door Margo had.

  Margo was sitting on the bottom steps of the back porch. True to her word, she had lit up a cigarette. Its smoke wafted up and into Rowen’s face on the breeze. “Ugh.” Rowen waved a hand to clear the smoke in front of her face. “When did you even start smoking?” She had been suspecting Margo did for a while, but she had never been able to pin down exactly when it happened.

  “Are you kidding? I’ve been smoking since high school. I used to steal cigarettes from Grammy.”

  “Grammy smoked?!”

  “Grammy was a woman of many secrets. Like a smoking habit… and premeditated murder.”

  “Truer words.” Rowen went down the steps to stand in front of Margo. She pulled her phone out and made a show of putting it to her ear in case someone looked out the window. “So what’s up? Why did you want me to follow you out here?”

  Margo winced. She took a long drag before answering. “It’s Natalie.”

  “Natalie?” Rowen repeated the name. “Which Natalie?” she asked, even though she had a good guess. She had only ever known one Natalie, that being a ghost who had given her considerable difficulty ever since she had used her help on a case. She had promised to help Natalie with something she had never had any intention of doing. It had fallen on Margo to complete the task. Natalie was supposed to have moved on afterward. Rowen really thought she had after their last case. She certainly hadn’t seen or heard from her.

  “You know which Natalie,” Margo said with a frown. “She’s been hanging around me.”

  “And you didn’t think to mention that to me?”

  Margo shrugged. “Why would I? She’s not doing anyone any harm. She’s not asking me to do anything else for her. She just likes hanging out. We sit and watch television sometimes. Sometimes, she just comes to me with information she thinks I might find useful.”

  “Is she around now?” Rowen looked around, like she’d be able to see anything but air. She should have sensed her, though. She didn’t feel the presence of any ghosts nearby.

  “She’s back at the Greensmith house, I think,” said Margo. She hesitated then, like she wasn’t sure how to say what came next. “She just popped over here and gave me a message, though.”

  “What kind of message?”

  “There’s a new ghost hanging around back at the house.”

  Rowen felt her pulse speed up. This couldn’t possibly be good news. “Who is it? Does she know?”

  “She asked for his name, and he gave it to her.” Margo took another long drag on her cigarette, like she needed to do so in order to steel herself for the information that came next. “Rowen, he says his name is Rory.”

  Chapter Six

  There was something uniquely nerve wracking about the drive to the Greensmith household. Rowen had never particularly liked Rory, and now those feelings of dislike had shifted entirely to guilt. She had never wanted him dead! God, she hoped Natalie was wrong or that there was some different Rory who might have shown up at the Greensmith household. It was unlikely. Rowen swore as she drove. How was she going to break this to her mother?

  “You should probably slow down,” Eric warned, speaking to his wife carefully. He still didn’t fully understand what was going on. Rowen had rushed him out of the house and into the car when she had headed back inside. “Do you want to pull over and let me drive?”

  “No,” Rowen snapped. “We’re nearly there.”

  “All right, but if we get pulled over, I’m not sure Ben will thank us for it.”

  “We’re nearly there,” Rowen said again, leaving it at that. She wasn’t worried about getting pulled over, though maybe she should have been. It wasn’t like Rory would be getting any deader if she took an extra five minutes in getting there.

  There weren’t any cars out front when Rowen parked outside. At least she would have some privacy in confirming whether or not Rory was still among the living. She put the car in park and gripped the
steering wheel tight one last time before getting out of the car.

  “Can you tell me what we’re here for now?” asked Eric, his voice a little on edge. He was annoyed, yes, but there was concern there too. It was plain to see that something very distressing was going on.

  “Apparently, Margo has been in contact with Natalie.”

  “Natalie?” Eric repeated the name like Rowen had when she’d heard it. “Which Natalie? Not ghost Natalie.”

  “Ghost Natalie,” Rowen confirmed. “Apparently, she and Margo are buddies now.”

  “Did she do something?”

  “She didn’t do anything wrong.” Rowen headed toward the house. “Apparently, she just told Margo that Rory showed up at the house.”

  “So?”

  Rowen rephrased. “She told Margo that Rory showed up to the house and spoke to her… as a ghost.”

  “Oh.” Eric swore. “Are we sure it’s the same Rory?”

  “Not yet.” Of course, it was highly unlikely that it wasn’t. Rowen still had the keys for the house. She took them from her purse and unlocked the front door. “Natalie?” she called. “Natalie, are you here?”

  I’m here, said Natalie, sounding just a little too cheerful given the situation. I take it Margo passed my message on.

  “She did,” said Rowen. “Why, though? I thought you had moved on.”

  I decided to stick around a little longer. Margo and I get along great. Better than you and I ever did. There was malice in the mass of energy hovering near Rowen. There was also a fair amount of fear. She was probably afraid to move on at this point. After a while, spirits grew used to being ghosts. They preferred it to change.

  “Where is he?” asked Rowen.

  Out back. I was watching TV in Margo’s trailer outside, and—I dunno. I sensed him coming or something. It was weird. I talked to him for a while before I told Margo. He’s kind of cute.

  “He’s married to my mother.”

  Not anymore…

  Rowen walked through the house, making a straight line for the back door. There were herbs and such out back. Rowen immediately sensed something lurking around them.

  Well, hey there! Didn’t expect to see you here. What’s up? Rory asked, like he was a flesh and blood person and not an invisible ghost.

  Rowen swore. It was definitely her mother’s Rory. This week just kept getting worse. “Natalie called me here,” Rowen said, miserably.

  Ah, yeah, I just met her. She seems nice. Not sure who she is, though. Is she a friend of the family or related to you guys or what? She wouldn’t say much.

  “She’s… a friend of Margo’s.” Rowen looked back at Eric. He was standing behind her. He couldn’t hear Rory’s side of the conversation, but from the expression on his face, Rowen could guess he knew what was going on.

  “Rory… Do you know how you got here?”

  What? There was a laugh as he asked that, or something approximating a laugh.

  Of course I know how I got here. I… He trailed off, like he couldn’t think of how he had arrived here after all.

  Well, I guess someone dropped me off. I must have partied a little too hard last night. He chuckled at that again.

  Do you know where your mom is? I hope she isn’t mad at me. We got separated last night, I know.

  “She’s not mad,” Rowen assured him. “She was worried about you actually.”

  Worried? Why?

  “Because you’ve been missing for a little while now.” Rowen really wasn’t sure how to say what needed to be said next. “Do… Do you remember what happened last night?”

  It’s kind of a blur, honestly. I know there was a party we crashed at some trailer park. That was a pretty good time.

  “Right. Was that where you spent all night?”

  No, I don’t think so.

  Rory didn’t sound quite so amused anymore. There was guilt in the air now. It was unmistakable.

  Your mom was pretty tired. The party was really winding down, but some of the people there were heading out to another party that was going on. God, your mom must be mad at me. I shouldn’t have left her there. I’ve never left her alone at a party before. The place seemed safe, though. I mean, Lainswich is a nice town, and plenty of folks were already crashed on the sofas and floors and stuff. I figured she’d be safe. She was, right?

  “She’s fine,” Rowen assured him. “And she’s not mad at you. Where did you go? Where was this second party?”

  I’m not sure exactly. I didn’t drive. It was way out there, though. I’m not sure we were even in Lainswich anymore. It was in the middle of nowhere. Rory fell silent for a few seconds, like he was thinking back.

  It was a real cool place though. I’m shocked Tiffany never mentioned it to me before. There’s a bunch of folks out there just chillin’. It’s clothing optional and all about love, you know? It’s really your mom’s kind of place.

  Rowen didn’t care to picture that, but she knew the place Rory was talking about. There was a guy named Jeff who owned a lot of land on the edge of Lainswich. He allowed people to come and go as they pleased there. They had a bonfire most nights. People partied, danced around naked, and occasionally did drugs. It was indeed Tiffany’s kind of place, though it hadn’t been after she had frequented the location with an ex. Rowen imagined that was why she hadn’t mentioned it to Rory. It probably brought back bad memories. Well, if it hadn’t dredged up bad memories before, it certainly would now that her husband had been murdered there. “What’s the last thing you remember from last night?”

  Oh, I don’t know, Rory was beginning to sound mildly annoyed, like he wasn’t sure why Rowen was talking in these conversational circles.

  Like I said, I’m not proud of it. I can’t say it’s the first time I had… a little too much fun.

  “Please just answer the question,” Rowen urged. “What’s the very last thing you remember before you ended up here?”

  You aren’t going to let this go, are you? Rory fell silent for a few seconds, like he was considering the question.

  Honestly? I think I was taking a leak in the woods. It’s not pretty, but that’s the last thing I remember. Why?

  Rowen was torn on whether or not to tell him the truth. Probably better it come from her than Natalie, she decided. Someone needed to tell him at any rate. “Rory, there’s not really a good way to say this. You’re… Well, you’re dead.”

  There was a silence again. For a moment there, Rowen was afraid that Rory had gone.

  What? he asked finally, laughing like she was telling him a joke.

  What are you talking about? I’m right here.

  “Yes,” Rowen agreed. “But you’re not in a physical body.”

  What?

  “Eric and I can’t see you. Eric here can’t even hear you.”

  “It’s true,” Eric said, looking around at the empty air like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his gaze when he spoke. “I can’t hear or see you.”

  That’s… That’s ridiculous. I’m right here.

  “You are,” Rowen confirmed again. “But… you’re dead. You’re a ghost. I’m sorry.”

  No, he insisted, giving another laugh, this one a bit more nervous.

  That’s ridiculous. This is ridiculous.

  “Try flying,” said Rowen.

  What?

  “Try flying,” she repeated.

  It was a few more seconds before Rory spoke again.

  Oh my God.

  “I’m sorry.”

  What if I’m not dead? What if I’m just having an out of body experience? The energy conveying Rory’s otherworldly voice to Rowen had become frenzied, desperate.

  Rowen couldn’t say with certainty that that wasn’t the case, but it was extremely unlikely. “It’s been a long time since the last thing you remember,” she pointed out. “Unless you fell into a coma while you were out peeing in the woods, I’d say the odds are pretty good that you’re dead. I’m sorry.”

  But there’s a chance, right? I m
ight be in a coma. You have to get down there! You have to get me to a hospital or something!

  Rowen was, at least, in some agreement with him there. She did indeed need to get down to the spot where he last remembered being, if only to find his body.

  “I’ll go,” she assured him. She just needed to figure out precisely how she would go about this. With Ben out of commission, she didn’t much like the idea of calling the police first. Without Ben calling the shots, they would be quick to try and exclude any Greensmiths from this case. They would be doubly quick to do so because it was personal. After all, someone had just potentially murdered Rowen’s stepfather.

  Chapter Seven

  The ride to the edge of Lainswich was an awkward one. It had started with Eric sitting down on Rory—or, at the very least, through him. Rory’s presence moved into the backseat afterward and didn’t stop rambling. He was certain this was all a misunderstanding. Something strange was going on and, as soon as they got to the bottom of things, everything would be fine. Rory would be reunited with his body and all would be right with the world.

  Rowen had her doubts—or, rather, she had a lack of doubt that Rory was anything but dead. Her thoughts were more on how she was going to break this to her mother than anything else. She probably should have been more concerned with catching whoever it was who had murdered Rory. He may not have been murdered at all, though. There was always the chance that he’d gotten alcohol poisoning or overdosed on something. Rowen didn’t know much about his history with illicit substances, but it was certainly a possibility. It was a possibility that was much preferable to the idea that there was a killer on the loose in Lainswich again. Thoughts of Andrea Halifax weren’t lost on Rowen. If there was a killer traveling in the party-going circles of Lainswich, there was a very real chance she had been murdered by the same guy who had done Rory in. Why, though? What was the motive?

  ***

  Rowen found the place they were heading for easily enough. It was hard to miss the collection of cars out in the middle of stretches of a largely uninhabited area. Rowen had to park on the side of a dirt road, behind a collection of cars and big vans covered in tie-dye bumper stickers. She made a point to lock the car door after they got out. The first plan of action was to have a chat with Jeff. He oversaw this place after all—or owned it rather. It was hard to believe he was aware of everything that went down on his land.