“No. No, not at all,” I say slowly. I’m actually not sure what I’m expecting. “Just erring on the side of caution.”
“Right.” Hartley grins. “Better safe than sorry. Especially this evening.”
I watch as he drifts off, steadily jaunting through the crowd with his great roll of material, in the direction I sent him at a little quicker clip than before. A cold chill sneaks up my spine as he turns the corner and out of sight.
What if the man in the bowler hat is trouble and I’ve just sent Hartley—a mild-mannered committee member—headlong into an altercation?
“Hey, boss.” Wayne and Donnie drop back in, materializing—poof! poof!—on either side of me.
“Would you please stop calling me that.” I look around, hoping no one has seen them transfer in.
“Sorry. We got them poppies you wanted.” Donnie holds out a giant handful, smiling
“Good work.” I touch one.
“Where did you want these?” Donnie asks.
“Oh, you can drop them back home, but first...” I dive forward, stealing one and rubbing it on the sides of my neck, behind my ears, and wrists, then put it back. “There.” I pat the bunch, feeling silly as Donnie and Wayne look on, confused. “You can take them now.” I push the bunch back toward them. “Oh, and make sure you put them in water, okay? Don’t want them to die on me,” I add, forcing a smile. They may be my only hope.
“Will, do, boss, I mean...”
“Never mind. Just go.” I wave a hand. “And get back here as fast as you can, okay? The fair’s about to launch.”
They smile and poof away, again, with no regard for human surroundings.
I’m gonna have to have a talk with them.
I walk on, hearing a noise behind the big magic tent and jerk back. Nervously, I throw back the exit flap to find a very startled-looking mouse blinking up at me, before it skedaddles.
Oh, for ghoulsakes, Violet. I clutch my chest and breathe. You really need to calm down.
I place a hand on my hip and take a deep breath.
After all—I look up into the bright night sky, filled with twinkling stars and a lovely half-moon, calming my breathing—it’s just a simple small-town country fall fair, right. What could go wrong? I gulp.
Chapter 11
“Oh, I don’t know. Tragedy’s been known to strike when you least expect it,” a familiar voice creeps up on me from behind. “At least that’s been my experience.”
I whirl around, slightly startled, then burst into a smile. “Sotherby.” I should have known that low teasing voice anywhere. “What are you doing here...dabbling in my thoughts.” I jut my head out toward him.
I shrink my gaze to teach him a lesson, then widen it, pleased to see him. Though I know that he has the talent to read my thoughts, we do have an agreement. He is never to do so without my permission, and I am not impressed with him at the moment.
“Sorry about that,” he says, reading my mind again. “It’s just—well...you looked so dismayed standing there. I thought a bit of fun might cheer you up.”
“And cheer me up you have, I admit. Though you know how I feel about you prying about in my thoughts,” I scold with an outstretched finger.
“Yes, yes, I know.” Sotherby drops his head. “And it shan’t happen again. I promise.”
“That’s what you say every time,” I tease. Though this time he looks genuinely remorseful. “Anyway, back to my question, what are you doing here?” I ask. “Not that I’m unhappy to see you, of course, I’m just surprised you came.”
“What, can’t a ghost enjoy a trip through the midway and a good candy apple?”
“Well, the first one yes, but the latter...not so much.” I shake my head.
“To be honest, I just came to support you. And to see what you’ve accomplished.” He looks around.
“Ah, how nice.” I link arms with him as we stroll through the midway.
“So, what do you think? How have I done?”
“Splendid,” he says. “It is all really rather amazing and pleasing to the eye.”
“Oh, why thank you, Sotherby.”
“Don’t thank me, you deserve the compliments. Everything is smashingly good. Except for maybe that ghost exhibit.” He looks down his nose at it.
“Ghost exhibit? You mean, the funhouse for the kids.”
“Is that what it is?” He grimaces.
“Why? What’s wrong with it?”
“Well, for one thing, the ghosts out front. They are ridiculous.”
“How so?” I laugh.
“Well, for one, I don’t think I’ve ever seen ghosts so happy to be dead in my life before. All that jaunting and jigging about to the music, what is that?” He frowns.
“Really? And just what should they be doing in your opinion? Standing at the front door dressed in their best, waiting to serve children tea?”
“Ha ha.” He glances down at me, then turns his face away.
“Besides, how do you know ghosts aren’t that happy on the other side—where you should be, instead of here with us in purgatory?”
He falls silent. I’ve hit a nerve.
“I’m sorry. I just meant, you know, perhaps it’s nicer on the other side. Where someday you will be,” I add, feeling stupid.
“Y-Yes.” He breathes out the word. “Perhaps,” he says and looks away, and I feel bad for even bringing it up. “You were terribly stressed the last time we spoke.” He changes the subject. “How is all that going?” He swirls a hand, asking, “Any progress in any area?”
“If you’re asking about the whereabout of ex- Supreme Leader, no, I haven’t found him. Much to my own chagrin.” I drop my chin. “My henchmen—I mean, my new personal security hounds—have searched essentially everywhere looking for him and come up with nothing. It’s as if the man has vanished from the face of the earth, undetected, and without the aid of magic,” I say.
“Hmmmm.” Sotherby’s graying brows rise. “No trace? No tracks? No lingering scents?”
“Not a one.” I frown. “It’s like he’s somehow rendered himself invisible.”
“Ah, but isn’t that a Druen trick?”
“What?”
“To render oneself invisible.”
I frown.
“I’m sure I read it somewhere,” Sotherby insists.
“Oh, I’m sure you did.”
“Wasn’t that a concern? That he might join the Druens?”
“Yes. It was...I mean is.” I stare off at nothing, then look quickly back at him. “Could you maybe find me where you read that?” I ask.
“Most certainly.” He nods and swings around the corner. “And as for the flash we saw,” he asks. “Any more on that?”
I lean closer to him, whispering in a low voice, “I have reason to believe that Jeremy has not been himself lately.” I dart my brows and tap my temple, indicating inside his head.
“Always making excuses for that dolt, aren’t you?” Sotherby tips back from me.
“It’s not funny, Sotherby. This is serious.” I clutch his arm and draw him nearer again. “If I’m not mistaken, which, I often am, lately, I think someone, or some thing, has been popping in and out of his body and controlling him at opportune times.” I keep my voice low.
“Some thing like?” Sotherby shivers.
I glance around and pull him even closer. “A warlock,” I whisper.
Sotherby almost laughs. “Oooh, so now the dolt’s a warlock.”
“Stop that, Sotherby,” I snap. “It could be dangerous.”
I don’t bother going into further detail about how I think the same trickster might be popping in and out of Sotherby’s body too, as he appears to think I’m joking.
“If I’m right, that means we have a warlock from a rival coven lose in Hex Falls. And quite possibly a bad one,” I add, keeping my voice low.
Sotherby’s silly expression sobers. “So you fear it might even be the work of a—”
“Right.” I nod. “We may v
ery well have a case of a Druen on our hands.”
“Are Druens commonly stupid?” He smiles down at me.
“Sotherby, please!” I swat him.
He moves his head and smiles as he stares out over the midway, changing the subject again. “You’ve really outdone yourself with the lights.”
I snuggle closer, checking over our shoulders to make sure no one’s watching me snuggle with a ghost—therefore with nothing. I’m already the talk of the town. I don’t need to add fuel to the gossip mill.
A child runs past, shrieking and blowing on a pinwheel—the complete picture of joy. Inadvertently, he brushes through the edge of Sotherby’s trousers, knocking him about, causing him to pull apart as steam and then regroup again. The boy has a full face, coated in freckles, with a mass of orange-red hair sticking out from beneath his cap.
“That’s a Cranston, isn’t it?” Sotherby asks, smiling after the child.
“You’re right,” I say, sounding astonished. “How on earth did you know that?”
“Because—” Sotherby pauses. “He looks exactly like his ancestor Robert Cranston. A boy I grew up with in school.” He looks longingly after the child, as if revisiting his youth in his mind. “Rather eerie seeing him again like that, though, I must admit.” The smile turns upside down. “Then again, Robert always was a strange lad,” he recalls. “Spent most of his life chasing after the macabre, that one. Puzzling over the idea that there could be life after death,” he pronounces, raising his chin. “And in a way, I guess when I see him again, I’ll have to tell him he was right.” He smiles, still watching the child.
“Are you ever going to tell me what you did to deserve this punishment?” I ask, carefully broaching the delicate subject of Sotherby’s current situation again. “Being held back from the ever after, I mean.”
“Never,” he says coldly, then looks off over my head, staring again at the ghosts dancing jigs.
“But, why not?” I touch my chest. “I tell you everything.”
“That is your choice,” he says flatly. “But it is not mine.” He glances down at me, then lifts his chin higher.
“You don’t trust me.”
“I didn’t say that,” he snaps. “It’s not a matter of trust. It’s just not a matter of your concern.” His brows flick up again, as he glances at me sideways.
A moment of awkward silence passes between us, during which I regret having asked him again. I’ve just put a sour mood on the very nice time we were having.
I sigh. “You know, never is a very long time,” I say softly.
“So is purgatory, apparently.” He whisks off up the midway.
“Where are you going now?” I chase after him.
“Why, to have a word with your ghosts. They’re acting absolutely preposterous.”
“No, wait, Sotherby.” I reach out, grabbing his arm. “They’re not real.” He scowls. “The ghosts, I mean. They’re just holograms. Animations of ghosts played in a loop. Projected onto the house, from a projector there.” I point to the device in the bushes. “You didn’t actually think they were real, did you?” I stifle a laugh.
Sotherby’s ghostly cheeks flush dark gray. “Of course not,” he snaps. “I was just pulling your leg.” He tosses up his chin and adjusts his suitcoat downward.
“I was told I might find you here.” Another familiar voice ripples up behind us.
Sotherby instantly disappears.
Chapter 12
“Uncle Harold?” I say as I swing around, looking somewhat astonished to see him. The second person I’m surprised to see tonight.
He hasn’t been home since...well, forever it seems. As usual, Uncle Harold has been off galivanting all over the world, ever since my powers came in, and I was officially appointed Supreme Leader. “It’s you!” I throw myself at him and am quickly swallowed up in his great winged hug. There is nothing better in the world than an Uncle Harold hug.
Or, at least not to me.
“Of course, it’s me. Who else were you expecting, a ghost?” He frowns, pulling back from me.
“No, of course not,” I say nervously, afraid he might have seen who I was talking to.
Though I’m not sure vampires can see ghosts. Can they? “Anyway, you came.” I fall into his arms again. “How very nice.”
“Of course, I did.” He folds his winged arms around me and draws me tight to his cool, muscular chest. “Would I miss the biggest event of my niece’s lifetime?” He kisses the top of my head.
“Biggest event of my lifetime?” I scowl, looking up.
“Well, at least in the mortal sense.” He smiles down at me. “How are you anyway?”
“Much better now that you’re here.” I snuggle closer to him.
“Oh, stop.” He shoos the compliment away.
“Don’t be so silly. I love when you’re around.”
“And I, you.” He hugs me tighter, grinning big.
But there’s more to the reason he’s really here, I know it. I push back, patting his chest.
“You’re looking awfully dapper these days,” I say, smoothing down the lapels of his velvet cape. “Don’t tell me you’re back on the market, yet again.”
“Good plasma, news travels fast in this part of the country. Who told you? Viv?”
“No, I just guessed. What was it this time? Was she too good for you again?”
“Well, I hardly think so.” He rolls his eyes. “But if you ask her, you might be right.”
I laugh. “Poor woman. What was her name again? Wasn’t it Cynthia?”
“Yes, and I’m afraid she was quite the doozey.”
“What do you mean?” I scowl at him.
“I mean, she didn’t go down without a fight. This one was quite the live wire, if you know what I mean? Right until the end.” He nods, then christens it with a wink.
I know exactly what that means. Uncle Harold’s lead yet another woman astray, over his non-commitment issues. “You know, Uncle Harold, as much as I love you, you can’t go around breaking hearts forever. It could get dangerous. Especially with the kind of women you date. One of these days, one of them might not take no for an answer and come seeking revenge on your head.” I tap it.
“Ack.” He steers away from my hand. “She’ll be fine. There’s plenty more vampires in the sea. Or should I say, Transylvania.”
I smile. “You know it’s a darned good thing you’re charming, Uncle Harold.”
“That I am. And it’s taken me a long way.” His brows wink wryly up then down. “Now, enough about me. How about you? How has my favorite girl been doing?”
“Not bad.” I link arms with him and we begin to stroll. “Much better now since my powers have come in—in some respects.” In others, not so much.
“I agree. Now I can finally stop worrying about you.” He plunks a cool finger down on the end of my nose.
“Ah, I hate the idea of you worrying about me. You’re far too old for that.” I frown.
“Age is nothing when you’re a vampire, dear, you know that.” He grips my one shoulder and hugs me tight to his ribs. “Besides, if I didn’t have you to worry about, I’d have nothing else in the world to do now.”
“Oh, I’m sure there’ll be another girl along soon.” I smile, feeling cheeky. “With you, they’re like buses. They’ll be another one along in ten minutes.”
“Very funny.”
“Oh, I wasn’t trying to be.”
He pauses to plant another cold kiss on my forehead.
“Why haven’t you ever tried marriage?” I ask.
“Because some people are designed to marry, and some people are me. I’ve never played well with others, for long.” He shrugs.
“Well, at least you know your limitations.”
“Speaking of.” He looks down his long aquiline nose at me. “I hear you haven’t quite gotten used to the waters yet. Regarding your new position, that is,” he adds quickly.
“Who told you that?” I pull to a stop.
“I heard the news from Viv.”
“So, that’s why you came?
“No. Not exactly.” He tugs on my shoulder again. “I originally came to see what you did with the fair. The news from Viv is just a sidebar. But apparently, it also doesn’t hurt for me to be here.”
“You know that I can look after myself now, right?” I straighten my non-existent, somewhat ruffled feathers. “I assure you, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t. I just said, it doesn’t hurt for me to be here.” He pats my shoulder, as I scowl up at him. “You know, just in case.” He shrugs off my frustration. “Goodness knows, you can handle yourself under attack. The question is, can the mortals of Hex Falls handle an attack by the Druens?” He raises an arched eyebrow.
“Wow, she really did tell you everything, didn’t she?” I say, sounding a little bit miffed.
“Just a little bit.” He raises his fingers, pinching them together, to show me. “Oh, don’t worry about it, dear. We’re family.” He pulls me to his ribs again. “You really think Jeremy is a Druen, do you?” He shoots me a look, concerned.
“One can’t be sure, yet. But things do seem to be adding up that way, sadly.” I frown, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on me hard now. “Do you smell that?” I ask, sniffing the air.
“Smell what?” Uncle Harold sniffs.
“That strange smell of magic that’s in the air.” I break away from him, following it.
He sniffs again. “No, I can’t say that I do.”
“Really?” I turn back, staring. “It’s very faint, but it’s there. You’re sure you can’t smell it?”
He tries again. “Nope. Not a thing.”
“That’s weird. Don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps that’s why you’re the queen Supreme.”
“Funny.”
Another waft of it drifts past, and a flash of something like fear rolls over me.
How can he not smell it? I frantically sniff the air. What could it be?
I think back to my sighting of the man in black bowler hat, and my blood stirs. I look in that direction. “How long have you been here?” I ask, clutching my uncle’s arm.
Abracastabra (Hex Falls Paranormal Cozy Mystery # 4) (Hex Falls Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series) Page 7