by Erin Johnson
Jun shook his head. “They didn’t find evidence of much. The storm caused so much destruction, it was hard to tell. I think officially it was attributed to a lightning strike.”
Misaki narrowed her eyes. “But no one who lived through the storm remembers seeing lightning or hearing thunder.”
Yann folded his enormous arms, his napkin tucked into his collar like a bib that hung below his big, bushy red beard. “Maybe da storm got heem, den?”
“Maybe.” Misaki looked around. “But there was some suspicion cast on his young wife and son, who were home at the time. Some people say they killed him, and that’s why the hauntings started.”
“Hauntings?” I squeaked. More than one?
Jun tipped his head from side to side. “Again—rumors. But they did move out of the house shortly after Daichi disappeared. Some say it was because the house was haunted, others say it must’ve been the memories in the house.” He shrugged. “Either way, the house has stood abandoned for almost ten years.”
“Until we went in!” Iggy plastered on a falsely bright smile. “Lucky us!”
Hank groaned. “I should’ve looked into this more.” His eyes darted to me and he winced. “Sorry.”
I rubbed his back. “Hey. You didn’t know.” I mean, I’d been creeped out just looking at the house and would’ve guessed it was haunted… but he hadn’t know for sure. And sweet Hank—he’d been excited to give me a home where we could bake and I could live with my cobbled-together family of friends. I pulled my lips to the side and grinned at him.
“The house is a lovely dream—we just have to hold on to the idea of what it’s going to be.” Not the creepy murder shack that it’s been. I gulped. The only way I could go back into that place tomorrow was to remember that these were all rumors. And if the whole town was aware of the ghost stories, maybe it really had just been some teenagers pulling a prank on us.
“Ah, come on.” Misaki nudged my arm. “It was probably just a prank.”
I nodded and sighed, a little tightness in my chest releasing. “I hope so.” I lifted a brow. “You’re really not scared by all those stories?”
She chuckled. “I’m really not.” She downed the rest of her beer.
Jun’s brows pulled together, his expression earnest. “I’m busy with the guard and helping out at my parents’ tea shop, but I’ll come help as much as I can.” He looked to Ben and the downcast Kenta, then at Misaki. “I’m sure we all will.” The others nodded their agreement.
Misaki grinned and rolled her eyes. “Obviously, we’re not going to let you take on the haunted house by yourselves.”
I clicked my tongue. “Don’t even call it that then.” But I smiled, my shoulders relaxing. I did feel better, knowing Misaki and the others would come by when they could. If they could battle monsters on the daily, I was sure they could handle a transparent dead guy.
I found Hank’s hand and squeezed. I hoped.
10
Threats
The next morning we rose early, ate our hot soup and rice breakfast with orange slices at the guesthouse, and headed down the street. We passed Rhonda and Francis on their way back home after a night of drinking with the locals.
My stomach tightened with each step that took us closer, and as the house, with its dark tower, loomed into view, I had to force my legs to keep walking toward it. Having my friends around me, including Misaki and Jun today, gave me the courage to keep going.
But as we got to work, I gradually forgot my fear. Iggy and I stayed on the ground floor—I wasn’t quite ready to venture upstairs just yet. Misaki lent me a sledgehammer and let me take the first few swings to break down the wall between the kitchen and one of the smaller bedrooms. We were expanding it and opening up the floor plan.
I grinned as I blew a hole through the wall on my first swing, wooden boards splitting with a satisfying crack.
Misaki clapped. “Nice!”
It felt good to move and sweat—it helped me shake off my apprehensions—and the day passed quickly. Yann crawled across the roof, tethered to the steeply sloping peaks by a magical harness, and I thanked the sea goddess that it wasn’t me up there. I’d have passed out from the height and tumbled immediately to my death.
Jun acted as architect, chatting with each of us about what we hoped the house would be like, and then sketched everyone’s ideas in his drawing pad. I was disappointed that he wouldn’t let any of us see yet.
As the sun dipped below the distant mountain peaks and the last of the warm light faded into shadow, we stood outside the house and surveyed our progress. We’d removed nearly all the rotted wood siding from the exterior of the house—at least what we could get to. We’d need to clear the thorny brambles that grew around the base of the house and across most of the big lot to get to the rest of it.
Yann had patched the biggest holes in the roof, preventing further water damage if it rained, and Wiley and Hank had pulled out all five stained toilets. We had a rubbish pile going at the back of the house. We’d knocked down several ground floor walls, and to my great relief, the house hadn’t collapsed on us.
Hank slid an arm around my waist and hugged me to his side. “We got a lot done today.” He tipped his head and rested it atop mine.
I grinned. We actually had. Magic made home renovation way easier than I’d imagined. “And best of all—no ghost sightings.”
“Amen to that, sister.” Iggy, hanging in his lantern from my hand, warmed my leg.
Maple laced her hands together and beamed at Hank. “Are there more walls we can knock down?”
“Easy, slugger.” Wiley threw an arm around her shoulders.
I grinned. She’d been a veritable wrecking ball once she’d gotten her turn with the sledgehammer. She’d nearly taken a load-bearing wall down before Jun stopped her.
Yann threw his head back and laughed a deep belly laugh, his leather tool belt slung around his hips. Hammers and all kinds of tools dangled from it, his wand poking out of one of the pockets. “Dat reminds me. Did I tell you guys about da time Sara was renovating da spa and—”
“Yes,” we all chorused.
I grinned at Yann, his eyes unfocused, a grin on his lips. Man, he had it bad for Sara. I knew because he’d been yelling stories about her to us all day long through the chimneys.
We walked up the street back to the guesthouse, and I barely managed to clean up and finish my dinner before I threw myself into bed next to Hank and passed out. I slept well that night—no nightmares about glowing green specters.
* * *
The next morning I downed my breakfast and coffee quickly, eager to get back to the house. It had been fun yesterday—and satisfying to see the progress we made.
Misaki and Jun had guard duty today, so they wouldn’t be joining us, but I was sure we’d be okay without them. I’d come to the conclusion that what Iggy and I had seen in the tower must’ve just been someone casting that mirage spell to freak us out, and I was actually excited to get back to work.
As my friends and I walked down the street together, I had a bounce in my step. I grinned up at Hank. “I can’t wait to see it again. It looked so much better without all the faded, rotted siding, and I think once we—” I stopped at the look on Hank’s face.
He looked over my head toward the house. He’d gone ashen, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “What is this?”
I spun and gasped as I saw it. Maple let out a squeak, and Hank and Wiley took off at a run, sprinting the rest of the way down the street. I followed, gaping up at our house in the dim light, the mist from the cemetery pouring in over the fence and hanging low across the lot.
Scrawled in huge, red letters across the side of the house, a message read, Stay out! Leave—or die!
Sam stood beside me as Hank and Wiley, with his wand drawn, dashed inside. I bit my lip as I watched him, tensed for any sign of danger inside. Be careful, Hank.
My shifter friend whimpered. “Who would do that?” His throat bobbed and he said, qu
ietly, “Isss it becaussse of me?”
“No, Sam.” I threw an arm around his shoulders and hugged him. “Of course not.” I shook my head. But I had no idea who would write that. I gulped. Maybe, I should be asking… what would write that?
Annie, slower than the rest of us, caught up and stood on Sam’s other side. She pressed her hands to her mouth. “Oh dear.”
Goose bumps prickled my arms as I took in the whole sight. It wasn’t just the graffiti. All the rotten wooden siding we’d peeled off… was somehow back on the house. My stomach twisted as icy fear flooded through it. My gaze jerked upward. Giant holes—holes that Yann had patched yesterday—dotted the peaked roof.
The big bear of a man passed a thick hand down his face. “I am confused.”
Maple, mouth agape, nodded.
A cry came from inside the house. I froze. That was Hank’s voice! We all glanced at each other, then dashed inside. I led the way, barreling through the front door, but skidded to a halt just inside. “Hank?”
Maple stumbled into my back and I moved, to let everyone else in.
“Sea snakes,” Iggy hissed.
The walls we’d destroyed were still down, but more red writing covered the walls that still stood, paint dripping from the letters.
Get out!
You’re not wanted here!
Death is coming for you!
My heart hammered in my chest as I looked around, the scrawled red words loud, screaming, in my mind.
Hank stomped into the front parlor from the kitchen, Wiley on his heels. The two stood red-faced, chests heaving.
“There’s more in there,” Wiley fumed.
Hank’s dark brows were lowered over his stormy eyes, a murderous expression on his face.
Maple whimpered. “Is—is it the ghost?”
I sucked in a sharp breath of air. I’d felt so confident after yesterday that it’d been a prank… now, I had my doubts about that.
Hank gave a terse shake of his head and growled, “No ghost I’ve ever heard of does graffiti.”
I lifted a brow. He had a point.
His nostrils flared and he balled his hands into fists. “Someone’s trying to scare us out of here. They wrecked all the progress we made. I will not stand for someone threatening the people I love.” His eyes flitted to my face, then he stomped toward us and we parted to allow him through. “We’re getting to the bottom of this.”
My heart pounded for another reason as I turned with my friends and followed Hank out of the house and down the street toward town. He was pretty sexy when he was angry.
11
Business Hours
I followed along behind Hank, jogging now and then to keep up with his long strides. We wound through the streets of Kusuri, quiet in the gray, early morning light. Birds chirped in the cherry trees that lined the roads and our footsteps scuffed along the stone pavers. As we turned onto a narrow lane with upscale townhomes and well-kept front gardens, I realized where we were headed.
I slid past Yann and Wiley as Hank marched up a few stone steps and lifted his arm to knock on a dark wood door. I pressed my fingers lightly to his arm, and Hank paused to look down at me. A line creased the space between his brows.
“I’m not sure she’s going to like hearing from us so early.” I raised my brows.
Hank, though his expression remained dark, gave a little grin. “I know.” He rapped loudly at the door. Then knocked again. And again. The sound echoed, loud in the early morning quiet. I glanced around. At this rate we were going to wake up the whole street.
“She’s keeping something from us,” Hank growled. He’d lifted his fist to knock again when the door flew open.
The head councilor, Ms. Tomoko, stood in the doorway in a light blue robe. She blinked at us, her sleep-lined face scrunched up in confusion as she looked from one of us to the other. “What in the wilderness are you all doing here?” She tugged her belt tighter around her middle.
“We need to discuss the house.” Hank’s chest heaved as he stared her down, his voice a low growl.
She glared up at him, her usually neat hair in a disheveled bun. She shook her head. “It’s six in the morning, for fern’s sake! Come back during normal hours!” She stepped back and began to shut the door.
Hank shot his hand out and caught it. “It can’t wait.”
Her eyes widened. “What has come over you all? This is most irregular!”
Maple, who stood down the steps on the street, peeked around me. “The ghost vandalized the house!” she gasped.
Ms. Tomoko scoffed. “Oh please. Not more talk of ghosts. I’m going back to bed and you—”
“Someone vandalized the house and left us death threats scrawled across the walls,” Hank growled. “If not the ghost—maybe the twins?”
Ms. Tomoko frowned and clutched the neck of her robe.
That was right—she’d said something at the council meeting about talking to the twins. Whoever they were.
The older councilwoman rolled her eyes and stepped back, waving us inside. “Well, come in, then, before you wake all the neighbors.”
12
The Petition
We settled around a low, square table in the councilor’s office. She’d roused her husband, and he now bustled about, fetching us tea and coffee. A twinge of guilt pinched my stomach as a few clinks, probably tea cups, sounded from the kitchen, then a cupboard closed with a thunk. We had just barged in here, waking them from their sleep. I hoped Hank was right to suspect Ms. Tomoko knew more about the threats than she’d let on a couple of days ago.
The older woman folded her hand on the gleaming table surface and narrowed her eyes. “Now what is all this talk of death threats?” She lifted a brow.
I wiggled a little further under the table. We sat on the floor on flat cushions, and the table had a skirt of sorts, a blue-and-black quilt that folded over our laps and trapped the heat of the magical flame that burned underneath. I felt some of my tension melt away. This was downright cozy, and the councilor’s minimalist office, with its sliding paper walls and lack of furniture, helped calm my mind.
Hank cleared his throat. “If, as you maintain, the specter Imogen and Iggy saw in the tower was not a real ghost, but a mirage spell, then that’s the first time someone has tried to scare us away from the house.”
Ms. Tomoko pressed her lips tightly together.
Hank continued. “Yesterday, we made a lot of progress on the house, but when we returned today, much of that had been undone.”
Yann whimpered. “All dose roofing holes I patched—ruined.”
Wiley nodded. “And this time, they left us little love notes.”
The councilor frowned at him.
“He means threats.” Annie, sitting close on my left side, shook her head. “Cowards.”
Ms. Tomoko lifted a brow. “What kinds of threats exactly?”
“Scrawled in red paint on the walls of the house, inside and out, they basically told us to leave, or die.” Hank leaned forward, his eyes intent on the councilor.
She took a deep breath and let it out in a huff, dropping her eyes to her folded hands.
Hank pressed on. “The other day when we told the council about the ghost in the tower—you said something about twins? Is there someone you suspect of doing this?”
She shook her head, another dark tendril falling loose from her bun. “I admit that there has been some… resistance, to you all refurbishing that house.”
Maple and I exchanged surprised glances.
“Sssomeone doesssn’t like usss?” Sam’s face fell.
The councilor gave him a soft look. “It’s not about liking you or not. And believe me, you have the council’s full support. I meant it when I offered to help you.” She narrowed her eyes at Hank. “Though when I said that, I didn’t expect you to come barging through my door at all hours.”
Hank let out a breath and his cheeks flushed. “I apologize for being brusque earlier… but someone is threatening me
and the people I care about, and I can’t stand by while that happens.” He leaned back and found my hand under the toasty table blanket. “Who do you think is behind this?”
The councilor leaned her head into her hand and rubbed the space between her brows. “I honestly don’t know.” She looked up. “I mentioned the twins the other day, Yoshi and Yori, because they filed a petition to block the redevelopment of the old house.”
I sat up, surprised. “Who? Why?”
“Hmph.” Annie shifted on her cushion. “Are these the neighbors, or something?”
I hadn’t even thought of neighbors. Because the lot was so big and bordered by the street on two sides, being a corner house, and the cemetery on the third, I couldn’t imagine anyone would be bothered by us. Besides, wouldn’t the neighbors want that eyesore fixed up as badly as the council did?
A kettle screamed in the kitchen, its pitch rising and rising, and then was suddenly cut off as, I assumed, the councilor’s husband pulled it from the stove. I gave Hank’s warm hand a squeeze. Some caffeine sounded great right about now.
Ms. Tomoko shook her head. “Yoshi and Yori own the Oishi Bakery.”
That rang a bell. I’d walked by it before. It was a cute little place just off the main street.
Hank frowned. “On what grounds did they file the petition?”
She sighed. “None, really. Which is why we of course denied it. But it basically boiled down to them not liking the idea of competition from another bakery in town.”
I frowned. “But that’s silly. We probably will make completely different things. We all do Earth- and Water-style pastries and bread, while I’m sure they make traditional island treats.”
Ms. Tomoko rolled her eyes. “Which is precisely what I told them. A few years back they had a clothing business. It didn’t do well. Between us, they’re not the most fashionable men and I have no clue what made them think they were experts enough to run a business.”