If You've Got It, Haunt It: A ghost romance (The Peyton Clark Series Book 4)

by H. P. Mallory

  I’m fairly sure I’d spend all of my limitless free time scheming to possess someone who was still living. As far as Drake was concerned, truthfully I was searching for a way to convince Ryan to allow Drake back inside my body. I didn’t how to broach the subject. Ryan preferred that Drake would stop haunting my house, so he was even less excited about the prospect of Drake haunting my body.

  Chapter Nine

  Maggie texted me to say she asked the Uber driver to swing by McDonald’s and she’d be arriving in thirty more minutes. Feeling exhausted from the events of the morning, Ryan and I tried to take a catnap in the guest room while we awaited Maggie’s arrival.

  I slept fitfully; every few minutes the bang of a hammer against wood or the tooth-grinding whir of a power drill awoke me. And Drake was correct—the noise was no more muted in the other rooms: there wasn’t a single place in the house that the clamor couldn’t penetrate.

  “At least Greg can finish patching the roof before tonight,” said Ryan feebly.

  “Are you sure? It looked like there were quite a few leaks that needed patching.” Getting up, I fumbled in my purse for my noise-cancelling headphones until remembered that I left them in the room where the handyman was working.

  “My point is, he’s not staying all night,” Ryan said with a frustrated sigh. “If Maggie wasn’t on her way, I’d say we should take our nap at my house.”

  “And I would have totally agreed, even with your slobbering, hairy dogs.” I started for the door. “I’ll be right back. Getting my headphones.”

  “Okay.”

  Ryan rolled onto his side and covered his head with a pillow. I smiled at the visual as I walked down the hall. At the sound of a knock on the door, I walked to it, thinking it was probably Maggie.

  When I pulled it open, I noticed a young girl, maybe ten years old, standing there and looking at me serenely. She was clothed in a checkered dress with a white collar that ended above her knees. She wore Mary Jane’s with white socks and her hair was cut short and pulled up on one side. She didn’t appear to be from this era which probably meant...

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi,” she answered as she looked up at me.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Emily.”

  “Hi Emily, how can I help you?”

  “Can I come in?”

  I was taken aback at her question and frowned a bit. “Why do you want to come in?”

  “I heard you have a doll to play with,” she answered. Then she craned her neck to look inside the house.

  “A doll?”

  She nodded and looked up at me shyly. “I like to play with dolls.”

  “How did you find out I have a doll to play with?”

  “A lady told me,” she answered. “She told me to come play with it.”

  I frowned. “Who was the lady?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know much about her.” Then she took a deep breath. “And she told me not to talk about her.”

  “Hmm,” I said and watched her as she watched me. “Emily, what’s your last name?” I asked, thinking I might need to know this later.

  “Stewart,” she answered. “Can I come in?”

  “No!” the word came from inside the house but it was a voice I didn’t recognize. I turned my neck, trying to see who was in my house but all I could see was Lizzie, who was sitting on the couch, in the same place I’d left her. Only her head was turned so she was facing the front door. One of her arms was held up as though she were pointing at the front door. There was no one else in the room.

  Could it be possible that the voice had been Lizzie’s? I was reminded of Aunt Jessie saying Lizzie could talk so maybe it was possible…

  When I turned to face the little girl again, she was gone.

  I shut the door as I shook my head and tried to make sense of what had just happened. Just then, Drake materialized in front of me.

  “It’s just us in the house right?” I asked.

  “Of course, ma minette,” he answered. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because something weird just happened.”

  “What?”

  “There was a little girl outside who asked to come inside and I think that doll, Lizzie, said the word ‘no’.” I took a breath. “Is that even possible?”

  “There is a spirit who resides within the porcelain so I believe it possible but it would be no easy feat.”

  “I think she was warning me not to let the little girl inside. I’m not sure why though.”

  Drake shrugged. “What did the little girl want?”

  “To play with Lizzie, I’m assuming.”

  I shrugged and started for the hallway. As long as there wasn’t anyone else inside the house, that was all I cared about. Strange little girls and talking dolls aside.

  When I opened the bedroom door, I noticed Ryan had succeeded in drifting off. I walked up beside him and sat down as I pondered the last few minutes. Turning over on my side, I placed a pillow over my head, thinking it might help me get a few minutes of shuteye. But all the noise from Greg was only slightly muffled, and my neck ached from the strain of lying flat on the mattress. I tossed and turned a few times before my body finally surrendered to sleep.

  When I opened my eyes, I had to gasp but it was lodged in my throat. Someone was standing near the foot of the bed, regarding me with a look of studied indifference. She was wearing a blue beanie, a pair of over-sized glasses that were sometimes black, sometimes blue, depending on the lighting, a Phineas and Ferb T-shirt, and dark denim jeans with large pockets.

  “Oh, my God, Maggie!” I said as I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “You just scared the shit out of me.”

  Despite the uncaring pose, her eyes took in the room with a restless curiosity, as if she were trying to record and remember every detail.

  “Nice to see you too, Peyton, even though it looks like you totally forgot I was coming.”

  “I didn’t forget, I swear,” I said as I inhaled deeply and smiled while standing up. “Hey, Mags,” I said groggily. I reached for her and gave her a hug, which she didn’t return. “Did you have any trouble getting here?”

  “No,” she said, “except that my driver kept trying to make small talk the whole time. He wanted to know what my favorite band was, how long I would be in town… blah blah blah. I kept giving him one-word answers until he finally quit talking and cranked up the music and left me alone.”

  “Good girl.”

  “I’m guessing the mountain lying next to you is your dude?” she asked, pointing to Ryan who hadn’t woken up yet. He slept like the dead.

  I nodded and held my finger up to my lips as I motioned her out of the room. Noting she brought her bags with her, I picked them up and left them outside the door before I closed it.

  “You’re going to be sleeping in this room tonight. Hopefully, the handyman will be finished with the roof by then, otherwise we’ll crash at Ryan’s house.”

  “Cool.”

  “I’m going to get a cup of coffee,” I said as I started for the kitchen. “How was the flight?”

  She shrugged. “You know. Whatever.”

  I smiled. It was exactly what I would reply at her age. Ah, teenagers. “When was the last time I saw you?” I asked.

  “The family reunion in West Covina.”

  I nodded. “Almost a year ago.”

  “Yep.”

  As we went downstairs into the kitchen, I felt a peculiar rush of emotions. The kind that accompanies a reunion with a member of one’s own family—a shared excitement and hope that mutual frustrations won’t ruin what could prove to be a lovely time together. “Do you want anything to drink?” I hesitated for a second or two. “I should have prefaced that by saying I haven’t been to the grocery store yet so there’s not much in the fridge or the pantry.”

  I laughed. “I’m sorry! I was supposed to go shopping this morning but circumstances conspired against me.” I didn’t bother elaborating; I could sense now wasn’t the time t
o bring up Catherine, who kept dating ghosts, or the stolen sword, or Angharad, or the witch with the live snakes or the random little girl who wanted to play with my ghost doll. Opening one of the cabinets, I added, “We’ll go shopping tonight, okay?”

  “Sure,” she answered as she started glancing around, taking in the house for the first time. It was a big house and she had a lot to take in. I could only hope it continued to remain mine…

  “So is this house really haunted? My mom said it was.”

  I arched a brow at her. “Why? Are you scared of ghosts?”

  “No. I don’t even believe in them.”

  “Then why did you ask if it was haunted?”

  She shrugged. “Because I wanted to hear what you’d say.”

  Teenagers. I couldn’t remember if I’d been so difficult when I was her age but it was probably safe to say that I was. “Well, it’s a good thing you don’t believe in the spirits of the dead because then they can’t hurt you.”

  She eyed me narrowly. “What are you talking about?”

  I shrugged again. “As I understand it from Lovie, a voodoo priestess who also happens to be a friend of mine, if you don’t believe in demons, they can’t hurt you.”

  “Wait,” Maggie started as she held her hands out in front of her dramatically. I was fairly sure Drake did exactly the same thing on more than one occasion. The expression on her face turned to one of concern. “Are you saying…?”

  “There’s a demon in this house, yes,” I answered nonchalantly with a big smile as if that would make things better. As if a demon was about as alarming as a fieldmouse. “But as long as you don’t believe in the demon, it can’t hurt you.”

  Maggie swallowed. Hard. I tried not to lose my composure and turned to face the cabinets as I smothered a laugh.

  “I’m hardly a demon,” Drake said as he materialized right next to her, regarding me with a complete lack of amusement.

  “Potato… po-tah-to,” I said with a shrug as I turned around to face them both.

  “Who are you talking to?” Maggie asked as she eyed me with suspicion.

  “Oh, the demon.”

  “Um, what?” Maggie darted a nervous glance around the kitchen. “Are you mental?”

  “No, I’m not mental, Maggie,” I said with a “duh” undertone. “But rule number one when dealing with unsettled spirits is that if a demon addresses you, you better answer him.”

  “Or what?” Maggie asked.

  “Or he’s liable to get super pissed off and that’s something you really don’t want to see.”

  “So the demon is here in the room with us?” Maggie asked as she looked around herself and swallowed audibly.

  “Yeah,” I answered. “He’s standing right next to you and asking me if you believe in him.” I paused for dramatic effect. “What should I tell him?”

  “Tell him no!” she answered immediately.

  “Very funny, mon chaton,” Drake said as he crossed his arms against his chest and regarded Maggie with keener interest. “And who is this pretty, little morsel?”

  “She’s my cousin so don’t get any ideas,” I answered as Maggie’s eyebrows reached for the ceiling. I added. “And she doesn’t believe in you anyway.”

  “Does she really think I’m a demon?” Drake asked as he studied her and then me. “Hmm, perhaps I like the title of demon.”

  “Half the time I think you’re a demon so would it really come as any surprise to learn that other people did too?” I answered with a yawn. Sometimes it was just too easy to mess with Drake.

  “Can you stop talking to the demon please? You’re freaking me out,” Maggie said.

  I faced her with a smile. “I thought you didn’t believe in demons?”

  “I’m not a demon!” Drake railed at both of us.

  “Well, I don’t but…” She swallowed her words as soon as Drake floated through the counter and opened all of the doors to the kitchen cabinets at exactly the same time before slamming them shut. Maggie let out a yelp, jumping about two feet into the air and facing me with wide eyes. All the hairs on her arms were standing up straight. Clearly, she was petrified.

  “Okay, Drake, that’s enough. Stop being so dramatic,” I said, raising my hands and bowing in the universal sign of supplication. Then I faced Maggie. “Drake isn’t a demon but he is a pain in the ass.”

  “Did he just do that?” Maggie asked, her fear still very much evident in her huge eyes.

  “Yes. He’s mad that I called him a demon.”

  “Then he’s not… a demon?” Maggie asked, swallowing hard.

  “No, he’s not.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. His name is Drake Montague. He was a French policeman during the 1900s, and he’s actually a good friend of mine. He won’t hurt you,” I added. “So before you start worrying, stop. The most he’ll do is talk your ear off so long that he won’t allow you to get any sleep.”

  “Very funny, mon chaton,” Drake said with a pronounced frown.

  “A policeman from the 1900s?” Maggie repeated, taking a few breaths and appeared to calm her down. “Is he hot?”

  I couldn’t stifle my laugh as I faced Drake. My smile broadened when he stood up straight and pranced in a strange preening sort of trot.

  “Tell her how handsome I am, mon ami.”

  “Hot?” I asked as I glanced over at Maggie and she nodded at me encouragingly. Clearly, she was hoping the answer was yes. “Um… not really. He’s actually pretty overweight and has maybe three… no, make that four chins; a badly receding hairline and a nose so big, he could probably smell whatever Maude is cooking down the street.”

  “Insufferable!” Drake railed at me and I started laughing. I noticed the lights started to flicker off and on as Maggie’s eyes went wide again. She glanced around furtively, half expecting a demon to emerge out of nowhere.

  Then she faced me. “He’s mad at you for saying that, isn’t he?”

  “Oui! I am quite angered with you!” Drake yelled. He faced Maggie and inhaled as deeply as he could. Then he simply blinked in and out of view a few times. Once he reappeared for good, I wasn’t sure, but it looked like Maggie was staring right at him.

  “Oh... my... God,” she said, and her mouth dropped open.

  Yep, she could definitely see him. Interesting.

  “How did you do that?” I asked Drake as I studied him.

  He shrugged. “I wanted your little friend here…”

  “My cousin,” I corrected him.

  “Your cousin,” he continued. “To see me in my true state which is quite a contrast to the ignoble way in which you described me!”

  “Wow, he’s really a ghost?” Maggie said as she pulled her eyes away from Drake and looked at me. She stared at Drake again. “Because he looks so real. Like I can’t really see through him at all.” Then she looked down at his feet. “Well, maybe a little.”

  “I am quite real!” Drake insisted and glared at her before he returned his full glare at me. “And I am no demon!”

  “Drake, this is Maggie. Maggie, this is Drake.”

  They both said hello, although Maggie never quite lost her expression of shock. At least she no longer looked afraid. Actually, the more she looked at Drake, the more her expression blanched into one of admiration? I shook my head as I realized Maggie definitely thought Drake was hot. Not that I could blame her.

  “So why haven’t you allowed other people to see you?” I asked while frowning again at Drake and wondering what other tricks he had up his sleeve that he neglected to inform me about. “Like Ryan, for example.”

  He shrugged. “I think the answer is quite apparent,” he said with a pout. “If I wish for someone to see me, they shall see me.”

  “Do they have to possess some sort of psychic ability to see you?” Maggie asked him.

  Drake nodded. “In order to see or interact with me, you must be sensitive to the spirit realm. And I must allow you to see and hear me.”

  �
�Does that mean I’m sensitive?” Maggie asked as she faced me and seemed pleased with that fact.

  “I guess so.” I shrugged. “And maybe this means you do believe in spirits now, right?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I guess I’m a believer now.”

  “Come, Cousin Maggie,” Drake started as he brushed past me and took her hand in his—which proved pointless because his hand just floated right through hers. “Let us retire to the drawing room where you can regale me with tall stories of your travels.”

  “You feel so cold,” she said as she pulled her hand back into her body and shivered. Then she looked back at me. “Are you coming, Peyton?” Clearly, she was hoping my answer would be yes. Relieved and happy Drake wasn’t a demon, I could tell she didn’t exactly trust him. Smart girl.

  “I guess so,” I answered although I was more interested in finding a cup of coffee than listening to her tales of travel. I was more than sure a long-winded story about Drake’s trials and tribulations when he was alive was about to be recounted. That and other stories, which I’d already heard at least a hundred times.

  Chapter Ten

  After thirty minutes of Drake’s stories, Maggie decided she wanted to get out of the house, so I offered to take her into town. Ryan was still sound asleep, so I figured I’d leave him be. Once we parked, Maggie decided she was hungry again so we found ourselves at Dat Dog on Freret Street.

  I wasn’t especially hungry, so I ordered a basket of seasoned fries for us to share, while Maggie—who recently became a vegan—bought a spicy vegan chipotle dog laced with garlic and oregano.

  “This place is awesome,” she said as we sat outside on the patio, “they have so many vegan options.”

  “You don’t have vegan options in Solvang?” I asked.

  Yes, Maggie was one of the lucky few who actually lived in the reproduction Danish town of Solvang, California. The majority of the population was comprised of tourists and more tourists.