by Elle Adams
Her brow furrowed. “So what are you going to tell the detective?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “This is the police’s job, not mine. I have no idea why my Reaper senses reacted the way they did. They haven’t for years.”
With one exception: the time they’d reacted to Mrs Renner’s ghost the week I’d first come to town. I’d been fighting to save Carey’s life at the time, and I didn’t need a sixth sense to tell me a powerful ghost was on the horizon. The sense that reacted when someone died, though… that one had been dormant for much longer. If I’d been an active Reaper, the same sense would have dragged me to the body in order for me to escort the soul into the afterlife. With the scythe I didn’t have, because I hadn’t been an active Reaper for years. What had my senses expected me to do, really?
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because I quit using my Reaping skills,” I said. “Except in extreme circumstances.”
“Like the other week,” she said.
“Yeah.” I’d begun to regret bringing up the subject at all. This wasn’t my responsibility. I’d begun to settle into Hawkwood Hollow, ghosts and all, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be its Reaper. That road only led to trouble. Reapers stood on the edge of paranormal society, as a rule, and for most of them, nothing mattered more than their job. They didn’t have friends or families. They certainly didn’t go sneaking around old houses in the hope of getting decent footage of local ghosts for a teenager’s blog.
Even the local Reaper didn’t act like a typical one, come to that. Since he’d retired without an apprentice, nobody else in town was inclined to take his place. I’d spent my first couple of weeks in town on tenterhooks, expecting an ambassador from the Reaper Council to show up at any minute and send in someone to take on the role instead, but I’d got complacent. Maybe I shouldn’t have done. I mean, the place was swarming with ghosts. Someone aside from me was bound to notice the town had slipped through the cracks eventually, and I didn’t look forward to that day with any level of pleasure.
I’d never been good at settling down. The last few weeks in Hawkwood Hollow had been among the most settled I’d ever felt during my time living in the magical world, and the notion of my Reaper powers getting in the way wasn’t a pleasant one. At the very least, an inconvenient awareness whenever anyone passed away would dampen my attempts to blend in, to say the least.
Yet this situation might be a one-off. I hoped it was, anyway. For now, Carey and I walked towards the welcoming warmth of the Riverside Inn.
2
Carey and I entered the inn’s lobby, which connected to the restaurant via a set of glass doors. A few patrons occupied the bar, mostly witches and wizards, but given the number of abandoned tables with half-empty glasses sitting on them, I assumed the majority of them had gone to see what was going on over at the bridge.
Carey’s mother, Allie, waved at us from across the room. She shared her daughter’s curly dark hair, though hers was streaked with grey, and I suspected that if I looked under the hem of her deep green cloak, I’d see the same bright red socks that Carey wore. “What’s going on out there?”
“Someone died,” I said. “Drowned in the river.”
Her face fell. “Oh, no. Who?”
“Harriet Langley,” Carey said. “The detective was there on the bridge, talking to the people who found her.”
“A group of drunk wizards on their way home from the bar,” I added. “Hayley was there, too. I guess everyone went to check it out.”
“Oh, she must have been on her way home from her shift,” said Allie. “I wondered where everyone went, but I have to keep an eye on things in here now the local wizards have picked out this place as their meeting point.”
“Was she in here, too?” I asked. “Harriet, I mean.”
“No, she wasn’t,” said Allie. “Not today, anyway. I didn’t know her well, but she was a coven member as well as a nurse at the local hospital. I feel sorry for her family. I do hope the police can get answers.”
“Me too.” After Carey’s relentless questioning, the last thing I needed was to face another round from her mother, so I opted not to bring up my Reaper senses’ ill-timed warning. I’d assumed that part of my life was long behind me, and while I made use of my skills to help Carey hunt for ghosts, that wasn’t the same as embracing the half of me which always ended up getting me into trouble.
In a way, I’d always stand apart from others, what with being half Reaper and half witch. Didn’t mean I needed to encourage my outsider status, though. Being treated like a pariah got old fast. I hadn’t known Harriet, besides. I was better off leaving this one in the police’s hands. Or so I told myself.
I headed for the stairs up to the first floor, and the inn’s room which had become my new home. Despite my best efforts, though, the old sense of guilt and responsibility knocked on the back of my skull like my father’s disapproving voice muttering in my ear.
“Bloody Reaper skills,” I muttered. “You can’t switch on and off whenever you feel like it. That’s not how it’s supposed to work.”
Like it or not, though, if the switch had flipped, it might well be permanent. Which meant unless I found a way to turn it off, I’d get an alert every time someone died, no matter who or where. Talk about the worst alarm clock ever.
Mart flew past me down the carpeted corridor of the inn. “I don’t know why you’re complaining. I remember you were upset when your Reaper skills first switched off.”
“That’s because I thought I needed them to hunt ghosts,” I told him. “I know better now. Anyway, not everyone turns into a ghost when they die.”
“Here, there’s a good chance of it,” he said.
He had a point. There were more ghosts than living people here in Hawkwood Hollow, and I’d banished a grand total of two of them since my arrival. By now, I was getting used to seeing groups of spirits around and they mostly left me alone. But the more I embraced my Reaper side, the more attention I’d draw from both sides of the grave. Which really wasn’t ideal.
“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I need to start keeping tabs on them.” I dug in my pocket and pulled out the key to my room, which was down the corridor from the suite Carey shared with her mother. It was a nice room, one of the many perks of working here at the inn, and it came with zero ghosts, except the one who followed me everywhere I went. No complaints from me.
I unlocked the door and entered my room. Set out like a typical hotel room with a double bed and pale wooden furniture, it was neat and fairly bare. I kept one suitcase of clothes, along with my broomstick and some other essentials, and that was all I needed. I was more than ready to flop onto the bed and sleep, but there was one slight issue.
There was already a ghost in the room, and it wasn’t my brother. She was a young woman, maybe in her twenties, with expressive dark eyes and a mournful expression on her face. Her faded cloak spread across my bed as she sprawled out as though the room belonged to her.
“Hey,” I said. “Um, who are you?”
She leapt to her feet. “You can see me?”
“Yes…” I closed the door behind me. “I don’t mean to be rude, but this room’s taken.”
“By both of us,” added Mart.
She looked between the two of us, her brow furrowing. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” I said. “I work here at the inn, and I’m staying in this room. I’m Maura, and this is Mart, my brother. Who are you?”
“Mandy,” she said. “Sorry, but I have to stay here.”
“Why?” Past experience had taught me the hard way that ticking off the ghost would only make things harder for all of us, so I’d prefer to tread carefully if possible. I still didn’t know how much power she possessed, after all. Usually there was no way to tell from outside appearances if a ghost could hardly lift a piece of paper—or if they could knock out the electricity in the whole building. Unless I wanted everyone else in the inn to find out about my new visitor, I�
��d better not risk it.
“It’s safe in here,” she said.
“There are a dozen or more empty rooms on this floor alone,” I pointed out. “I’m a light sleeper, and Mart likes his space. If you want to ask for an empty room, I can speak to Allie.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to be a bother. I’ll just… stay here. In this corner.”
Mart scoffed. “You most certainly will not. How long have you been a ghost, anyway? I got here first.”
“I don’t know.” She floated into the corner and hovered warily on the spot as though she was afraid that Mart would chase her off if she got too close to him. “I don’t know.”
“Just bloody wonderful, that,” said Mart. “How’d you die?”
“I don’t know.” She burst into loud, gulping sobs, and sank into a sitting position in the corner of the room.
“Wait.” I approached her, and she flinched away from me. “Ignore my brother. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Don’t ignore me,” said Mart. “Everyone knows I’m really in charge here. Anyway, if you’re going to let her camp out in here, then it’s worth finding out how she died. I’m not the one who’ll be in trouble if an axe murderer shows up at the door.”
“Mart, quiet.” I turned back to the ghost. “How long have you been dead?”
“A while,” she said between sobs. “I don’t… remember.”
Oh, boy. It wasn’t unheard of for ghosts who’d stuck around for a long time to forget how long they’d been dead, but a hysterical ghost was not what I needed to deal with at the moment.
Thanks for that, Mart.
After a sleepless night, it was something of a relief to go downstairs to the restaurant to find the place heaving with gossip about the body found in the river the previous evening. Compared to the hours I’d spent calming the ghost and listening to Mart bemoan her presence in my room, I’d gladly take the distraction. When my brother’s loud singing hadn’t convinced the newcomer to leave, he’d resorted to levitating things around and turning the lights on and off, until I’d yelled at him and caused the guests in the room above mine to hammer on the floor in annoyance.
And to think I’d assumed my reawakening Reaper senses would be the most irritating event of the night.
I picked up a plate and took it to the buffet tables at the back of the restaurant, loading it with breakfast before joining Carey and Casper at a nearby table. Carey had her ghost goggles plugged into my old laptop with the video of our visit to Healey House playing out on the screen, and she smiled as I sat down opposite her.
“I can’t get anything good out of this footage,” she said. “Maybe next time you can ask Mart to levitate something.”
I yawned. “He won’t do something like that without payment.”
Her brow wrinkled. “How do you pay a ghost?”
“Usually in hot showers,” I said. “He claims he can feel the warmth of the water. Don’t ask me how.”
“Wow,” she said. “Guess I don’t know as much about ghosts as I thought I did.”
“Believe it or not, I don’t know everything about ghosts,” I said. “All of them are different, which typically depends on what they were like when they were alive. Mart is a special case, anyway.”
For several reasons. One was that he’d been a Reaper himself when he was alive. Another was that in the process of using my magic to bind him to me, I’d made him stronger than a regular ghost. While I sometimes wondered if he’d always want that, he’d already had a chance to leave and had chosen to stay, for what it was worth.
Mandy, on the other hand, was going to be a problem if she didn’t get out of my room.
Carey cast a glance around the restaurant. “I wonder if Harriet will come back as a ghost?”
“Hard to say at this point.” I lowered my voice, knowing Harriet’s death was the number one topic of conversation at the moment. “Since our local Reaper is on strike, though, I’d say the odds are higher here than most places. Let me see the video?”
She turned the laptop around so I could see the screen, and I watched the blurry footage of our visit to Healey House while we ate. At this rate, we’d get more ghost footage if I stuck a camera in my room to record the drama between Mart and our unwelcome visitor, but I wasn’t about to tempt either of them to cause even more trouble than they already were. Carey knew more about ghosts than the average person, but that didn’t mean she had the years of experience in dealing with ticked-off spirits that I brought to the table.
The next time I looked up, it was to see Detective Drew Gardener enter the restaurant. I waved him over to where we sat, and he strode across the room, mutters following him as he did so.
“Hey, Maura,” he said. “Sorry I blew you off yesterday. I didn’t expect to run into you out there.”
“I know you were working,” I said. “I wouldn’t have been out if I hadn’t been looking for ghosts. The older kind, I mean, not the recent ones.”
His serious expression made me aware it probably wasn’t the time to joke about that. Dark humour was part and parcel of being around ghosts, though in my experience, most Reapers had no sense of humour whatsoever, dark or otherwise. Yet another reason I had zero desire to join their ranks once again.
Allie approached our table and gave Drew a friendly smile. “Oh, hello, detective. Carey, I need your help with something at the inn. Maura’s not working until this afternoon, are you?”
“No,” I said, confused as to why she felt the need to point that out. The detective clearly was working, and it didn’t escape me that everyone else in the restaurant appeared to have noticed him approach our table.
Carey rose to her feet. “Sure. Maura, do you want to take your laptop back?”
“Take it with you.” I didn’t mind loaning it to her, as she didn’t have a computer of her own aside from an ancient desktop Allie had in her office.
Beaming, she packed it back into its case and went out of the restaurant with Casper padding along at her side.
As Allie followed after them, I took the opportunity to step out of the spotlight and headed towards the door leading outside.
Drew fell into step with me. “You’re working today, then?”
“Yeah, I’ll be on the afternoon shift,” I said. “Were you here for a reason?”
“Does there have to be one?”
My heart gave a skip, and I suddenly felt self-conscious of the number of eyes on me. “I wondered if you were here to speak to the people who were at the inn when Harriet drowned. Also, on that note, I have something I need to tell you.”
“Oh, sure.” He walked with me out of the inn, away from the gossiping witches and wizards, and faced me with a hint of worry in his expression. “What is it? You know something about Harriet’s death?”
“No, but I know she died when I was in the old house with Carey.” I drew in a breath. “I sensed it, thanks to my Reaper abilities. Maybe half an hour before I saw you on the bridge.”
He arched a brow. “You know for certain she died at that moment?”
“It hasn’t happened for years, but my senses can’t be tricked,” I said. “To regular Reapers, it’s kind of an automatic compass which tells us where to collect a soul from. My senses aren’t as intense as they used to be, but I couldn’t have mistaken it for anything else. How long passed between when you were called to the crime scene and when I found you on the bridge?”
“Less than five minutes,” he said. “I came as soon as I got the call.”
“From one of the wizards?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “I sent them home after I questioned them about the chain of events which led up to them finding her body. They weren’t very coherent, but they clearly didn’t know her well, nor did they expect to find a body in the river. They only found her because one of them almost went for a swim himself.”
“I gathered, when I saw them talking to you,” I said. “I wonder… was she on her way here to the inn? Harriet? I c
an’t think of another reason she might have been on the bridge. There aren’t many places open on this side of town that late at night.”
“Precisely my thinking,” he said. “Which house did you say you were visiting? Was it right next to the river?”
“Healey House.” I pointed in the general direction of the sunken old house, nestled between its even more dilapidated neighbours. “There were rumours that ghostly activity picked up over there in the last week or so, but we didn’t find anything inside the house. I should have come out as soon as I sensed Harriet’s death, but I didn’t know it was that close to where I was standing.”
“You couldn’t tell?” Curiosity underlaid his voice. I hadn’t told him everything about being a Reaper, though he’d seen me in action more than once. If I had to admit it, I went out of my way to avoid mentioning it any more than I had to. If there was a time and place to have a long chat about the joys of being tailed by dead people on a daily basis, I had yet to find it.
“No,” I said. “For most Reapers, they have a designated area. An entire town or village is generally within reach of their senses, so they have to focus pretty hard to find the right location. It’s even worse for me, since my powers have been dormant for… a while. Not much use without a scythe, besides.”
It was possible for me to banish a ghost without access to a Reaping tool, but I was way out of practise, and I preferred to keep those situations to a minimum. I could tell when I met Drew’s eyes that he was remembering the incident with Mrs Renner, which had seen me go head to head with her ghost and almost lose. Only true Reapers were allowed to wield their tools, and I’d given mine up along with my apprenticeship.
“Sounds like that skill would come in handy when working in homicide,” he remarked.
“Not really.” I looked down. “I mean, my senses only react when someone is already dead, so it’s still too late either way.”
“I didn’t mean to imply you were in any way responsible for what happened to Harriet,” he said. “If anything, I should have been keeping an eye out, since she would have walked straight through pack territory on her way over to the inn.”