Pumpkins & Poltergeists, Confessions of a Closet Medium, Book 1

by Nyx Halliwell

  Logan nods his agreement. “At least try this one event,” he prompts. “Like Ava said, we’ll handle the details. You won’t have to lift a finger.”

  “And,” I offer, lowering my voice to a confidential tone, “if we pull this off for Ty and Miranda, the Durhams and the Burnetts will be in your debt for generations to come.”

  Her curlered head tilts as she studies me. There’s a long pause as my words sink in. “I have your word this won’t interfere with the tour on Sunday?”

  As long as Calista doesn’t make an appearance. I smile big and send a silent wish up to the stars overhead. “I promise.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  There’s a man sitting on the front steps when Logan drops me at the house.

  “You’ve got company.” Logan eases to the curb and I squint at the figure waiting for me. “I’ll walk you up.”

  There’s a note of protectiveness in his voice. I didn’t leave the porch lights on, but their honey glow shines out anyway. I wonder who might have turned them on—is Aunt Willa inside waiting for me? Did Tabby turn into a woman again? At this stage, nothing would surprise me.

  My visitor is backlit, his face in shadows. “You don’t have to.” Yet, I stay planted in my seat. “It’s not really necessary. Is it?”

  He shrugs. “Ty’s probably here because he’s worried about Miranda, but if he’s upset I can convince him we have things covered.”

  Ah, Ty Durham, I’m not sure I would have recognized him even if he were standing directly under the light. “Are you two friends?”

  “Nope.” He puts the car in park and kills the lights. “But we’re both members of the athletic boosters. We’re…acquaintances.”

  There’s a part of me that wants to extract retribution from this guy for terrorizing Rhys. But that was so many years ago, and, hopefully, he grew out of that bully stage. Still, Logan’s protectiveness keeps the warning bells in my head ringing. “Do you know anything about the night Calista died?”

  The street light down past Mr. Uphill’s place gives the sidewalk a soft ambience and reflects in Logan’s eyes when he turns to me. “She and Ty were out partying, he was drunk, she took the wheel. I doubt she was more sober than he was, and unfortunately the accident happened. He always blamed himself because he survived.”

  I nod, studying Ty as he leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees, watching us back.

  “Two former football players, both from prestigious Thornhollow families, and you’re only acquaintances?”

  He ignores the question and asks one of his own—one that completely takes me off guard. “Want to go to the football game tomorrow night?”

  “What?”

  “Think you’ll have time? It doesn’t start until seven and we can leave early if you need to get back here to work on stuff.”

  Homecoming. Of course, the whole town will be at the game, cheering on the team.

  I’m baffled he would ask me, and I stammer for an answer. I’m not a football fan and I can’t imagine taking a few hours off to watch the game. Nor do I want to. “It’s sweet of you to ask…”

  He doesn’t let me finish, reaching for his door handle “Great. We’ll grab dinner in between the parade and the game.”

  Did he just ask me out on a…a date?

  Before I can beg off, he bails from the car. Head spinning, I climb out as well.

  “I think you misunderstood,” I tell him when we hit the sidewalk.

  Ty stands, hands sliding into his pockets. “Logan, Ava.” He nods at each of us as Logan opens the gate and ushers me through.

  I guess this isn’t the best time to correct Logan’s assumption, the event planner in me stepping forward. “Hi, Ty.” I offer my hand as I stride confidently up to him. “I’m glad you’re here. Would you like to come in? Have some tea?”

  His hair is a dishwater shade of blond, even in the warm glow of the porch light. Tight lines accentuate his mouth and full lips. “No ma’am, it’s late, I know, but I heard you were still out and about, scouting places for my wedding.”

  Nothing goes unnoticed in this town, apparently even my whereabouts. “We have two very strong candidates,” I tell him with a smile. “Either will work well, and I’d be happy to go over the details with you and Miranda tonight if you’d like. Your parents are welcome, too.”

  I assume the elder Burnetts and Durhams are paying for everything, so it’s imperative I get their buy-in.

  He kicks at a small rock on the sidewalk, head lowered. “You sure it’s even worth trying at this point?” His voice is quiet, his down-home, boy-next-door look sincere as he raises his gaze to mine.

  Once more, I’m caught off guard. “Of course, it is! There’s no reason to postpone the wedding because of the country club flooding. Which I explained to Miranda earlier today. Your dream wedding is still viable.”

  He glances over at Mr. Uphill’s. “I mean, the whole thing. It just feels like…”

  At his hesitation, Logan moves closer. “Like what?”

  Ty’s gaze seems a million miles away. The cool night air turns frosty. “Like God, or the universe, or whatever, doesn’t want me to get married.”

  “Look out,” a croaky voice says.

  Great. The door knocker.

  “Here she comes,” one of the gargoyles adds.

  A gust of wind flips hair into my face. Neither of the men hears the voices, but I glance around, tensing in expectation. If only Ty knew the truth. I look for signs that Calista is with us, listen for her voice. “You and Miranda are meant to be together, I’m sure of it.”

  “No they’re not!” The ghost shouts right in my ear, making me jump and bump hard into Logan.

  He straightens me up, keeping a firm hand on my arm. “Hey, are you okay?”

  I’m grateful for the warmth of his hand and his strength. “Just tired. It’s been a long day—a long couple of days, in fact.”

  Ty visibly shudders, as if cold. “You know, when your aunt was here, I thought we might actually pull this off. But now, I’m not feeling it.”

  “Pull this off?” The phrase strikes me as odd. Does Ty know he’s being haunted by his ex? Did Aunt Willa tell him? “Is there anything you want me to know, anything odd that’s been happening to you or Miranda? What we might call bad luck? Do you feel like you’re…cursed?”

  He pales visibly under the porch light, nearly looking like a ghost himself. “How did you…?”

  That’s why Miranda’s had such a strong reaction to my claim that Prissy Barnes is jinxed. “I have a bit of my aunt’s gift.” I hope that if Aunt Willa told him about Calista, he’ll get my drift. I really am tired and it seems as if the only way to “pull this off” is to convince Ty I can take over where Aunt Willa left off— ghost or not.

  I only have to figure out how she planned to stop Calista from ruining the wedding. “I can help you and Miranda. I just need a little time.”

  Logan looks at me sharply. “Your aunt’s gift? You can see…ghosts?”

  My stomach falls. He knows?

  Well, the cat’s out of the bag.

  I bet he’s rethinking that date.

  Before I can answer him, the rocking chair on the porch starts to move back and forth and a woman materializes. She looks eerily like Belatrix LeStrange from the Harry Potter movies.

  The thing is, she also resembles my friend Winter on a bad hair day.

  I step closer to the porch, eyeing her and wondering if Winter has somehow teleported herself to my aunt’s house. “Winter?”

  The men look at the chair, back at me. The woman smiles. “She said not to scare you—that I should appear normal.” She makes air quotes around the word and rolls her eyes. “No imitating Endora from Bewitched or the gal from I Dream of Jeannie.”

  My heart sinks. It’s not Winter, but it is her new spirit guide—a snarky, angel-like being who has a thing for ’70s sitcoms. “Persephone?”

  “Who’s Winter?” Logan scans the porch and front yard. “Who’s
Persephone?”

  He and Ty can’t see her any more than they can see Calista. I’m not sure how I can, but her timing is the worst. “No one,” I tell him and then to Ty, I plead, “Don’t worry. I can handle this. Round up everyone you want and bring them here at nine tomorrow morning, okay? We’ll get things sorted out and everything will be fine.”

  Persephone snickers, and as she rocks back and forth, Calista’s voice rings out. “I will never let Ty go!”

  “Looks like you’ve got yourself a wild one there,” Persephone intones, and her gaze goes to a spot behind Ty’s shoulders.

  “You can see her?” I ask automatically, forgetting Logan and Ty are both still here. They look at me with a mix of concern and confusion, but I can tell Logan’s assuming I’m talking to ghosts.

  Persephone chuckles. “Can’t you?”

  I shake my head and notice how Ty is hunching his shoulders. He shudders again. “I’ll think about it.” He brushes by Logan, heading down the sidewalk. “Sorry about your aunt.”

  He walks away, disappearing into the shadows. Only the tap, tap, tap of his shoes echoes through the soft night stillness until that’s gone, too.

  “Are there ghosts here?” Logan asks quietly.

  I give him a look, words deserting me. How much does he really know? How much does he want to know?

  He seems to accept the silence as an affirmative. He takes my arm again. “Let’s get you inside. You’re right, it’s been a long day.”

  Yep, he’s definitely going to rescind his offer for the date. I just hope he keeps his word to help me set up the old speakeasy for the reception.

  We start up the steps. “Yes, it has. Thank you,” I tell him. “Like I said, it’s been a stressful week.” I rub the back of my head, hoping to play up the possibility my odd behavior could be due to the concussion. “I’m so grateful for all of your help today. I mean it. You may have single-handedly saved this wedding.”

  At the praise, I see the flash of that familiar grin. “You don’t have to butter me up, Ava.”

  We stand in front of the door and he moves closer, rubbing my arm. His eyes catch the light and glow as he looks down at me. “You’ve been through a lot and you’re trying to help everyone out with this when you don’t really have to. I’m here for you, okay?”

  Persephone snickers again, but I ignore her. I’m mesmerized by Logan’s eyes, a midnight blue under the light, and feeling pretty damn confident that I will, come heck or high water, get all of this figured out and save the day.

  Winter has sent Persephone, and I have my aunt’s book upstairs that must hold some tips and tricks to handle Calista. I’ll figure out a way to free Ty and Miranda from this poltergeist, get them married, and let them live their happily ever after.

  Then, I’ll cross Tim Shackleford over, figure out if my aunt was murdered and, if so, who did it.

  “It’s been a joint effort,” I tell Logan and kick myself for sounding so lame. “You, Rosie, Brax, Queenie… You’re the true heroes.”

  His lips come down on mine—soft, warm, and comforting. It stirs something deep inside of me, and white-hot heat shoots straight to my toes. “Humble like Willa Rae, too,” he says in a hushed tone.

  I sigh, kissing him back. Relishing the feel of him, my head spins in a happy way and my legs turn to jelly.

  Chapter Thirty

  Logan breaks the kiss after a bit, leaving me lightheaded. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow. Get some rest.”

  He leaves his car parked at the curb, closing the gate behind him and jogging across the street to his place.

  “That’s some nice eye candy,” Persephone snarks, startling me.

  “Forgot you were here,” I mutter, and then reluctantly face her. “Any chance you know how to chase off a poltergeist?”

  “I fought the big, bad Master last December with Winter. I think I can handle a pesky spirit.”

  “Technically, Winter and her sisters fought that demon, but”—I unlock and open the door—“I suppose you did help a little.”

  “I am completely unappreciated.”

  All three cats circle my feet, crying and whining. Persephone simply appears in the front room, rather than using the open door to enter. The cat knocker says, “She’s trouble.” The gargoyles agree, and I slam the door shut on them.

  Interestingly enough, Persephone doesn’t seem to pick up on the fact that inanimate objects are talking. I’m not sure if that’s reassuring or not.

  Lights magically come on as she half-walks, half-floats over to Rosie’s desk. Her hair and clothes morph from dark to light, the change in appearance now roughly resembling a Dolly Parton imitation—big hair, long nails, and an hourglass figure. “Winter said you’re seeing and hearing spirits more than you used to.” Even her voice is lighter, with a honeyed Southern accent.

  I hang up my coat. Chilled, I rub my arms, wishing I could think about the kiss and Logan rather than rehashing what’s happened since my aunt died.

  Turning up the heat on the furnace dial, I recite the bare facts. Then I head to the kitchen to feed the cats. “Possibly the knock on the head did it. I’m hoping it fades like my lump is doing.”

  “Doubtful. It’s the trip you took across the veil that ramped up your abilities. You’re a spirit walker now, not just a medium.”

  I lean against the kitchen door, feeling drained. “A what? You mean like Winter?”

  She touches a few of the tea cups and saucers my aunt collected, displayed on an intricate wooden shelf Uncle Saddler made for her. “You’re a spirit walker. Winter’s a shaman. You died and came back. You’ve seen the other side. My side.”

  “Lucky me,” I murmur sarcastically.

  She smiles. “Pretty cool there, huh?”

  “Honestly, I don’t remember anything about it. I mean, I know Logan said I stopped breathing and he had to resuscitate me, but maybe he was wrong, or maybe it happened so fast I didn’t even know it.”

  “Time runs differently when crossing the veil. Space, too. What may have seemed instantaneous to you may have been hours or days in this dimension.” She fiddles with a sequin on her elaborate pantsuit. “Logan? Is that the guy who kissed you?”

  “Yeah, him. If he hadn’t found me, I might not be here.”

  The cats, having finished their meals, wander over to me. All three watch Persephone from a distance. Arthur and Lancelot stay close to my ankles, while Tabitha flicks her marmalade tail at Persephone before exiting the kitchen and disappearing up the stairs.

  “Better keep a close eye on that one.” The angel cocks her head at the spot where Tabby walked out. “There’s some bad juju around her.”

  I’m not sure of Persephone’s definition of bad juju but I get the general drift and take offense. “I think she’s my ancestor, Tabitha Holloway. She’s some kind of shapeshifter, I guess. She was one of the original founders of our town.”

  “Never trust shapeshifters, and that one has some B.I.G. secrets,”

  I think about Winter’s boyfriend, Ronan. Her sister Spring’s boyfriend, too. They’re both shapeshifters. In fact, the sisters’ handyman and his mother are as well. I like them all and find them to be more trustworthy and honorable than many “normal” human beings. “I happen to like shapeshifters, although I’m still having trouble wrapping my mind around the idea.”

  Persephone crosses her arms over her buxom chest and gives me a look that suggests I’m being stubborn. Reminds me of Mama.

  “Forget the shapeshifting,” I tell her. “How do you know there’s bad juju around Tabby?”

  She eyes me with a bit of peevishness. “Because I’m a spirit guide…?”

  Her tone implies I’m a dunce.

  Maybe I am. “Well, Miss High and Mighty, if you know so much, then have a seat and fill me in. We can start with who murdered my aunt? What does it have to do with my family’s curse? And is my dad exempt from the curse as long as he stays away from this town? Also, I really need to know how to get rid of this gif
t, and”—I nearly ask what should I do about Logan—“how to get rid of Calista.”

  A laugh issues from her mouth, her peevishness gone. “I couldn’t give you those answers even if I knew them—which I don’t, for the most part. I’m still a peon in the spirit guide realm. Still have my training wheels on, so to speak. I can offer suggestions, and pass on hints from the Big Guy.” She points heavenward. “But those are few and far between, thanks to you having free will and the fact you have to learn life lessons. You know, all that jazz.”

  She pushes off from the desk and begins to wander. I follow her, trying to think of an argument or a persuasion. She takes in Uncle Saddler’s bookshelves, running her hands along the spines, then examines an antique clock on the fireplace mantel. With a sigh and flourish, she turns back to me. “So let’s start with the most pressing item on your list and see what I can help with, shall we?”

  “Everything on my list is pressing. I’m not sure how to pick only one.”

  “Then it’s the perfect time to meditate.”

  My mouth falls open. I’d forgotten just how challenging—and bonkers—this spirit guide is. I barely met her when I visited Winter and her sisters to help with the demon last winter, and thank goodness for that. “I don’t have time to meditate, Persephone. Get real.”

  “The first lesson of spirit walking and controlling the veil is stilling the mind. You need to practice handling ghosts, and you can’t do that until you know how to control your gift.”

  “Oh puuleaze,” I whine. “Just tell me how to get rid of Calista.”

  Ignoring me, she wiggles her fingers and sends two pillows from the couch to the floor. Plunking down on one of them and arranging herself in a cross-legged position, she assumes a meditation posture with eyes closed and thumbs and forefingers touching as her hands rest on her knees. “If you want my help, we do things my way.”

  Arthur and Lancelot glide over to her, cautiously, sniffing the air and her clothes. Lancelot’s big green eyes turn to me and then he sits, not right next to her but close.