by Etta Faire
They both ignored me anyway. “And whatever it costs is fine,” Lila said. “I know this is a special order, and that I’m putting y’all out.”
Rosalie nodded as she swiped Lila’s credit card and picked up the jar from off the counter, handing it out to her. “Make sure Shelby is the only one who uses this special blend. It could cause side effects for anyone who doesn’t need the strong stuff,” she said, casually, like the side effect was “getting an upset tummy” and not “getting your eyes pecked out by angry crows.”
“Can you double-bag that?” Lila asked, stepping back and away from the jar, coughing. Her face turned a palish green.
I looked at her sideways.
Even though the Donovans were likely bird shifters and this was bird repellant, I thought the special blend bird repellant only stopped birds from attacking certain people while making them attack others.
Lila held the double-bagged item out at arm’s length with the tips of her fingers and left.
Rosalie rubbed her hands together as soon as the door closed. “We have work to do,” she said.
I knew that meant we were about to look through a pile of ancient paranormal recipe books to find something “relatively safe” that would get a guest house back for a rich person.
I wasn’t sure this was a level we should have been stooping to, but, like always, I rarely turned down a dollar either.
I sat in the parking lot of Justin’s apartment complex, staring at the faded, graying sign that simply read “The Complex.” I’d never noticed the sign before, but it didn’t surprise me that the name of the apartment complex was just as boring and generic as the apartment complex itself.
It was almost 7:30, and the sun was setting. The spindly gray trees of the Dead Forest stretched out toward the pink and purple sky like a bunch of bones trying to snatch the last bits of life from Landover.
I quickly texted Justin to let him know I was here. His apartment complex had strange rules. Guests were allowed, but only if a resident of the complex escorted them through the halls.
I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on in there, but I was pretty sure it had less to do with worries of theft and more to do with the fact the residents were all bear shapeshifters who went into the Dead Forest for reasons I may never know. Extra patrol duty? Secret meetings? Foraging? I liked to picture foraging for some reason.
I looked around. Something seemed different tonight, and it wasn’t long before I spotted it.
What looked like a large gray satellite dish sat on the top of the main building, slowly spinning on its stand, a red light blinking on top like a pulsating eye.
I turned my head to the side, trying to figure out just what it was and when it had been installed there.
I almost didn’t notice my boyfriend walking across the parking lot until he’d almost reached my car. I knocked myself out of my trance, waved, and got out.
Justin’s dark thick hair blew a little in the breeze, and he was wearing the gray button-down shirt he knew I couldn’t resist because it showed off every muscle he worked so hard to get.
It was the kind of look that made you forget all about weird satellite dishes or the fact you’re mad about unmentioned bird attacks.
I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips over his. His face was scratchy and warm and he smelled like garlic mixed with cologne.
We walked hand in hand over to the keypad that residents had to use to get into the place. And I noticed that had changed too. It was no longer just a keypad. They’d added a swipe card to it as well.
“Why the extra security?” I asked. “And what’s with the satellite dish?”
Justin just shrugged. “No clue. They just added them day before yesterday. There’s a meeting tomorrow night about them.”
“Maybe you’re getting free satellite TV,” I said, like the dish looked anything like a TV one.
Justin’s neighbor Knox was on his way out as we were swiping the card to get in. The pale blonde man who lived down the hall from my boyfriend looked me over and smiled when he saw us. He held the door open.
“Long time, no see,” he said, his voice dripping with sexuality, like always. There was something charmingly dangerous about the man.
Justin called him “black-market savvy.” And Knox and I had a bit of a strange past because of that assessment.
After I figured out that I could read the ancient-scroll book Justin left out once, I’d asked Knox to find it for me.
This was not my best idea. It had practically screamed “strange girl alert,” and that was not something you should scream in Landover.
I canceled my order, and I never received the book. But I could tell. The screaming had already happened. He knew I was strange.
“Are you still looking for books, Carly,” he asked as I passed, my sundress brushing against his all-black outfit. His voice was slow, his syllables drawn out. “I think you know by now that I can help you find whatever you’re looking for. Whatever book. Whatever ancient sign. Whatever prophecy.”
Ancient sign?
I tried not to let my eyes bug out on that one. He probably hadn’t meant the ancient sign I had hidden in my basement.
The birds and the bears both thought their prophecies were about to come true. Both predicted a war, but with much different outcomes. The bears’ prophecy included a sign to look for that would let them know when it was time to rid the town of the birds. The sign was a sparrow looking at its reflection. And that sign was sitting in my basement.
And Justin knew about it, but he promised not to tell anyone.
Justin didn’t even talk to his neighbor. He smiled politely, slipped his arm around my waist, and guided me to the elevator.
“That guy’s a real piece of work,” he said when the elevator doors closed around us.
“I’m sorry I asked him for that book in the first place,” I said.
“Me too,” he said, eyes straight ahead, staring at the elevator buttons.
I took a deep breath and crossed my arms, deciding to let his comment roll over me, even though he wasn’t allowed to regret the things I did in life. I was the only one with that privilege.
“But let’s not talk about it. Nothing about any part of our oddities tonight, okay?” he said, his voice lower than normal.
“Sounds good to me,” I said, mostly because we always seemed to get in a fight right before dinner, and I told myself tonight was not going to be one of those nights. I was way too hungry.
Justin’s beige, boring apartment smelled like an Italian restaurant. Garlic, tomato sauce, and the sweet smell of toasting bread. The thick, good kind of bread where the butter melts into every pore. Not the cheap kind that was basically little more than toast.
The table was already set, with daffodils in a vase and a Zinfandel sitting in the middle of the table setting. He really knew how to fancy things up. This was much better than my new dinner: popcorn.
“It’s just about ready.” He grabbed the apron draped along the back of a dining chair and motioned for me to sit down. I sat, my stomach rumbling out a reminder that now was not a good time to ask him anything about Shelby.
The dining room was next to the kitchen and I could see him in there breaking the spaghetti noodles in half and tossing them into a pot of boiling water.
“Do you want help?” I asked.
“No. I’m almost finished,” he said. He stirred the noodles into the water then brought over a bowl of his famous garlic bread and a couple of wineglasses. He set them both on the table then put his hands on my shoulders, kneading his palms into my joints. I leaned into him and closed my eyes.
After a couple seconds, he stopped the massage and kissed my neck.
“You are an amazing man, Justin Fortworth,” I said as I kissed his cheek lightly.
“Your neck smells like some sort of cleaner,” he replied, wiping his lips off on the end of his apron, apparently oblivious to the rule about no fighting before food. “And now my lips tingle.
”
“It’s Rosalie’s bird repellant. She had to add tea tree oil, citronella, and peppermint so that it wouldn’t smell like dirty diapers.” I laughed awkwardly.
He nodded, but stepped away.
“It’s just what people, like me, have to wear so that we don’t get mauled by birds. It’s what Shelby Winehouse has to wear now too.”
He coughed and went back into the kitchen to check on the pasta. I could tell Rosalie was right. The police were supposed to pretend birds weren’t a problem. “Nothing weird to see in Landover” had become the town’s official motto.
I touched the back of my neck where a film of the repellant had pooled into my curls. Maybe there was a tad bit too much today.
“And yes, I heard Shelby got attacked by birds yesterday,” I said. “Rosalie said the police refused to come out to help her…” I stopped talking. There was no easy way to say this. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
I grabbed a piece of garlic bread and bit into it just in case I was going to need to make one of my famous dramatic exits soon. The first bite told me to shut up and quit complaining.
“Why didn’t I tell you about it?” he asked, blinking into the steam while draining the noodles. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”
“Just let me know next time,” I said.
He lowered his voice. “Dispatch isn’t sending us out unless someone is seriously hurt. I didn’t know I was supposed to be the one to call and tell you about Shelby’s bird attack, when she wasn’t even hurt.”
I gulped down the last bit of garlic bread, eyeing another piece.
He poured the spaghetti into a large bowl sitting on the counter and drizzled olive oil over it. “Why didn’t Shelby call you? She was fine, just a little shook up.”
It felt like a punch to my stomach, and I almost lost my appetite. But he was right. Shelby should have called. I was the one who had had two bird attacks before. Everyone knew about them. I could have told her what to do. We could have shared notes.
Instead, she’d called Lila.
I was being cut from my own horror movie when I thought I had a starring role. My shoulders slumped, and I stared at my empty wineglass.
He took off his apron, and bent down to kiss my head again, but stopped himself and stood back up. The changes in Landover were affecting us all, even when we tried to pretend our hair didn’t smell like cleaner.
He poured us both a glass of wine and sat down. “Let’s not talk about bird attacks or anything else strange that might… ruin the night,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
He didn’t give me time to agree. “Here’s to a peaceful dinner.” He raised his glass, and we clinked glasses. I gulped down a large sip, already feeling better about my night.
Justin leaned across the table. “I heard you went to see Caleb the other day. How’d that go?”
“Fine,” I said, because I wasn’t allowed to say much more than that. “It was nothing. Caleb has a scrapbook that I need to end the curse on the town, and he basically told me I was crazy.”
Justin’s strained smile told me his opinion on the matter. The curse was off limits to talk about too.
He chugged down half his wine, then started talking about the famous spaghetti sauce his mother taught him how to make.
The air seemed thick with steam and garlic, or maybe it was just tension.
I wondered if there was a reason, beyond the “peaceful dinner” one, why we weren’t talking about paranormal oddities at his place. Why he was whispering. Why there was a satellite dish outside.
Instead of asking, I just nodded along like I was mentally taking down his mother’s spaghetti recipe.
Chapter 9
Real Life Issues
Jackson was already waiting for me in the living room when I got home the next morning. Technically, I wasn’t supposed to spend the night anywhere other than Gate House without giving notice. It was part of the four-inch-thick agreement I’d signed when I inherited the place last year.
My housekeeper (who was also a ghost and a bird shifter) used to count my demerits, send me a nasty formal letter about how I was doing, then shake the house as punishment if I didn’t follow the rules. A surprisingly effective disciplinary measure.
But Mrs. Harpton and I had bonded a little since the beginning. So I was guessing I wasn’t going to get too much of a reprimand. Probably no house shaking this time.
Plus, I had way too many things to worry about right now to worry about demerits. Justin’s apartment had been very weird last night, and not the usual kind where I just didn’t feel comfortable.
First, the elders from Justin’s bear clan came to Landover. Then, his mother came to visit, and now, there was weird security and satellite dishes at his apartment complex.
I went into the kitchen and Jackson followed me.
“Look, I know I spent the night away from Gate House without making out a formal request, but I’m sure it’s fine,” I said before he could lecture me. “I’m here in time to feed Rex.”
Rex moseyed over to me when I said his name and sadly nuzzled his face into the sweatpants I’d borrowed from Justin because I hadn’t meant to spend the night. I could tell my dog was disappointed in me too.
“C’mon, stop giving me a hard time.” I squatted down in front of him and hugged him. “I’m only a little late for breakfast.”
I opened the cabinet and brought down his food. Jackson stared at me the whole time, tapping his ghostly watch.
“I think you’re forgetting something,” he finally said.
Mandy appeared by the cabinet beside me, and I jumped. She had a lot of 80s color for a surprise appearance. Bright pink shirt, matching lip gloss.
She looked good, like she’d calmed down. Her eyes were no longer bulging and her nostrils weren’t flaring.
“You seem like you’re ready to channel,” I said.
“I was ready last night too,” she replied, with a nervous chuckle that faded out.
It hit me. I had stood her up. “Ohmygoodness. I’m so sorry. We were supposed to channel last night. My boyfriend invited me over for dinner, and dinner turned into spending the night, and I completely forgot.”
Jackson’s perfectly combed beard seemed to stiffen in the sunlight. “I hate to say it, but I think you’re letting your living life get in the way of what’s really important,” he said.
The bird repellant on the back of my neck oozed into my hair line as my face heated up. I twisted my curls into a makeshift bun, catching a whiff of tea tree oil mixed with citronella. “You are not seriously lecturing me about how my real life is getting in the way of my paranormal one.”
“If you say you’re going to do something, regardless of whether that’s in your ‘real life’ or your paranormal one, you should do it.” He put air-quotes around real life. To him, there was no longer a distinction. There wasn’t much of one for me either, but I would never admit that.
“I am human, therefore, I mess up, okay? And I apologized.” I turned to Mandy, then back to Jackson. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t feel like Justin and I have a place to be together anymore, so I have to jump at the opportunities when they come up. I don’t…” I almost said trust, but I caught myself. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to come here because not everyone trusts him. I do, though.” I quickly added at the end.
Rex looked up from the empty bowl he was licking and nodded like I had correctly assessed his opinion of my boyfriend.
I checked my cell phone. It was just after 9:30. “I don’t have to be to work until one today. Mandy, if you’re still up for it, we can channel here, right now. Let me just look over a couple of articles I didn’t have time to look over at the library.”
Mandy nodded and followed me to the dining room.
“Are you sure you’ll be able to wake up in time for your real-life job?” Jackson asked. “We’d hate to get in the way.”
I swiped my phone on. “I will set an alar
m,” I said.
I’d tried this trick before, and I’d always channeled through it, but that was back when I wasn’t fully in control of my channeling yet. It would be interesting to see if it worked now.
But, just to be sure, I selected the most annoying alarm sound on the planet. Chimes. And I set it for 11:30, a full hour before I needed to leave.
I plopped my sack purse onto the dining room table and sat down. I still felt a little behind on the research part of my investigation. I knew it was because Caleb was making me do things with one hand tied behind my back. I couldn’t conduct interviews or let anyone know I was working with the police department.
I fished through my purse, pulled out my notebook, and made a quick list:
Look up everyone’s alibis
Possibly check the surveillance footage from Friday night that shows alibis
Find out who Crazy Hank is
I thought about the business card still sitting in my wallet. I was going to have to call Caleb to see the footage, someday.
The printouts of the articles were still folded in my purse, and I brought out the one about Ned Reinhart. It was just a gushing review of his life that the author of the article was clearly impressed with.
Reinhart didn’t even discover theater until his senior year of high school. He was captain of the football team, and his teammates dared him to join the theater club on a lark, so he did. It wasn’t long before the golden boy had mastered that one too, becoming president of the theater club.
His directing career began shortly after, in the early 1960s when he dropped out of college to make Hippo, his first and most well-received horror movie to date.
Reinhart has directed and produced more than fifteen feature films, most commercial successes…
Mandy and Jackson were right behind me, looking over my shoulder. I was getting way too used to my paranormal life mixing with my real one. I hated people reading over my shoulder, but I no longer bothered to stop ghosts from doing it.