Ghost Magnet: A Haunting Urban Fantasy

by Lori Drake

  “Who are you? Where did you come from?” Chad’s spirit demanded.

  I ignored him, lifting a shaking, bloody hand to cup Trish’s cheek. Though I could feel her under my palm, the blood didn’t transfer to her insubstantial skin. “You have to cross over.”

  She covered my hand with hers. “Shhh, save your strength.”

  “No. Listen to me. I saw Leti. She’s waiting for you. For us. I’ll be—” A sudden surge of pain stole my breath, leaving me unable to complete the thought.

  “You saw Leti? When? How?”

  Movement out of the corner of my eye drew my attention away. Chad was trying to get back into his body, flinging himself at his still form again and again without success.

  Trish’s fingers caught my chin. “Dean!”

  I dragged my eyes back to her. “Sorry, beautiful.”

  She bent down at pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Now I know you’re cracked.”

  I laughed in spite of myself, but it was short-lived and ended in a groan. “I’m not gonna make it. Don’t know… what’ll happen… to you.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.” She took my face between her hands.

  Looking up into her frightened eyes, I almost believed her. I was so cold that her hands felt warm, and normally they didn’t feel any particular temperature at all. “Trish, please…”

  She grabbed my jacket by the lapels, eyes boring intently into mine as she all but lifted me off the floor. “Man up, Torres! Don’t you dare quit on me, or I’ll haunt your afterlife too.”

  “Promises, promises.” The room was spinning by then, and I blinked to try and merge the twin images of Trish in front of me.

  I’m not sure how long I drifted on the edge of consciousness, but I didn’t even hear the Seattle coven beat down the front door. The next thing I knew, warmth flooded me and the pain in my stomach eased and faded away. I blinked up at the unfamiliar face of a man with a neatly trimmed goatee and a nose piercing hovering over me. He had that unfocused look about him, the way witches look when they’re studying auras or performing complex magic. When he refocused on me and lifted his bloodied hands from my stomach, I no longer felt any hint of pain.

  “Thanks,” I said, pushing myself up gingerly and looking around. Chad’s body still lay on the floor, but his wrists and ankles had been bound. His spirit lingered nearby, head hung low. Trish was sitting beside me and offered a smug smile when I looked her way. “Yeah, yeah, no need to gloat.”

  “Huh?” The man with the goatee regarded me quizzically.

  I shook my head. “Nothing, sorry.”

  “Mindi crossed over,” Trish said.

  Relief flooded me and I nodded a little, but didn’t want to risk saying more in mixed company. Scanning the room, I found Amber sitting at the kitchen table with three others, one of whom noticed me looking their way and arched an inquisitive brow. I picked myself up off the floor and tugged self-consciously at my ruined T-shirt.

  Amber was on her feet in a flash. She ran over to me and flung her arms around my waist. I blinked and held my hands out at my sides, not quite daring to touch her.

  “It’s okay,” she said, as if reading my mind. “I got the full Dean Torres experience earlier.”

  Realization was slow to dawn, but when it did, I winced and gave her an awkward squeeze. “Sorry.”

  She pulled away to look at me. “I’ve seen worse.”

  I glanced in Chad’s direction and nodded, supposing that she had, at that.

  The man who’d healed me walked over to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. “We have a few questions for you, Mr. Torres.”

  “Dean’s fine,” I said as Amber caught my arm and led me to the table.

  The man gestured at a chair, which slid itself out from under the table. It was probably meant to be inviting, but I shied away and slid into the other empty chair, unaccustomed to such casual displays of power. Amber took the empty chair instead.

  The healer finished up at the sink and dried his hands, then joined us. “I’m Ethan. It’s nice to meet you.” He sat, ending up directly across from me.

  Amber leaned over and whispered, “He’s the High Priest of Seattle.”

  I swallowed. The High Priest himself had healed me? Wow. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you too. Sir. Thank you for the, uh…” I jerked a thumb toward where the action had taken place.

  He waved me off. “Amber’s told us what she remembers, but I was hoping you could fill in the”—he glanced in Chad’s body’s direction—“gaps.”

  I nodded. “Well, long story short, I came to get Amber but your rogue witch over there got back before we could escape. We fought. He damn near killed me, but I got the better of him.”

  “Hm. Yes, I can see that. What exactly did you do to him?”

  I felt the intense gazes of all five witches in the room on me. A chair creaked as one of them leaned forward in anticipation. I didn’t have much time to think about how much I should tell them. So I opted for the truth.

  “I forced his spirit out of his body.”

  Several of the witches gasped, including Amber. Ethan merely tilted his head and studied me. “I see. How long does that last?”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “Uh, not sure. I’ve never done it before. Not on someone alive, that is. Desperate times, desperate measures. What took you so long, anyway?”

  “Dean.” Amber’s cheeks flushed.

  “What? It’s a legitimate question…”

  “Damn right it is,” Trish said. Her hands settled on my shoulders.

  Ethan continued to study me like a bug under glass. “We arrived as quickly as we could. Amber said you’re a medium?”

  I glanced at Chad’s dejected spirit, sulking in a corner of the room. “Honestly, sir, I’m not sure what I am anymore.”

  26

  “Sandra Ellen Watkins, I summon you.”

  I glanced around warily while I waited for the ghost in question to put in an appearance. I hadn’t been in a boneyard since my power was dialed up to eleven, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. A few spirits had gathered while Amber and I took turns digging up Sandy’s casket, but they were keeping their distance thanks to Trish and Sadie running interference.

  Amber fidgeted with the matchbox, making its contents rattle. “Maybe she can’t hear you from here.”

  The air around us shifted, becoming charged with spirit energy. “She heard me,” I said quietly, bracing for the worst. There was a reason why Amber had the matches. I fully expected Ms. Watkins to come at me again, but having cheated death not once but twice that night… I was feeling confident. Cocky, even.

  Seconds ticked past, but still the ghost refused to manifest. I nodded to Amber. “Light her.”

  Amber struck a match and tossed it into the grave. The corpse in the open casket caught immediately, thanks to the lighter fluid we’d liberally sprayed over it, and flames soon licked their way along every inch of Sandra Ellen Watkins’s earthly remains. An inhuman shriek pierced my eardrums, seeming to come from all around me. I grimaced and glanced at Amber, but she gave no indication that she heard it.

  I sensed a presence gathering behind me and spun in time to dodge Sandra as she flew at me. However, I stumbled over the bag of rock salt we’d also doused the corpse with and landed hard in the springy grass between two headstones.

  Amber rushed over to help me up. I let her, because my bruised male ego was the least of my concerns at the moment. But once I was on my feet, I motioned for her to step aside and faced the angry shade. Her pale form glowed in the darkness with an unearthly light, and her eyes glinted red between the wet strands of her long, dark hair.

  Trish vanished and reappeared beside me. “I told you this was a bad idea. Just dispose of her remains and be done with it.”

  “I’ll banish her if it gets out of hand.” I assured her, then dusted off my jeans and addressed Sandra. “You ready to talk? Because I can’t help you if you damage the merchandise.”

  Trish rat
tled her tongue piercing against her teeth, making her annoyance clear.

  “Help?” Sandra said, tilting her head in a creepy, lizard-like fashion. “You’ve trespassed in my home. Desecrated my grave. You call that help?”

  I shrugged. “Just thought I’d give you one last chance to do this the easy way. I’ve been told the hard way is pretty shitty on your end, but I’ve got all night. Once the fire dies down, we’ll gather up your ashes and take care of the rest of the ritual.”

  Sandra’s eyes flicked toward the grave. Smoke poured out of it, and the smell… was not great, to be honest. I just hoped we could finish and be gone before the overnight security guard we’d bribed to ignore us got curious about what we were up to in the cemetery in the middle of the night.

  “I’m listening,” Sandra said.

  “Your death was ruled a suicide, but it wasn’t, was it? Someone drowned you in your bathtub. Do you remember who?”

  Anger flared in her eyes, but she shook her head.

  “Do you remember anything at all about your attacker?” It was dicey, and I knew it. She’d been dead over twenty years, but time passes differently for spirits.

  She closed her eyes. Pain flickered across her face, but her expression hardened a moment later. When she opened her eyes again, a fiery rage swallowed the light of lucidity. She screeched and flew at me again, but I tapped into that cold wellspring of power and flung a hand out.

  “Be gone.” I felt the power pulse from my hand, though there was nothing but a shimmer of the air in front of me as it rushed toward Sandra. It hit her square in the chest, and she vanished. My pulse throbbed in my ears as I waited a few seconds, but I was pretty sure the banishing had worked.

  “You’re getting better at that,” Trish said.

  “And a good thing, too. I forgot to warn you.” I caught her hand and lifted it to my lips, kissing a knuckle.

  “Is Trish here? Hi, Trish!” Amber said.

  I winced, having forgotten Amber was there. “Um, yeah. Let’s wrap this up and get something to eat. I’m starving.”

  Amber looked from me to the grave and back again. “You’re weird.”

  I glanced at Trish, who smirked. “Never claimed to be otherwise.”

  We ended up at an all-night diner, where I set about consuming a stack of pancakes and sausage almost as big as my head.

  “So, what’s next for you?” Amber asked. She’d opted, more conscientiously, for a veggie omelet. “Are you going to go to Mexico?”

  I eyed her over a sip of coffee. It was unsettling how much she’d learned about me while giving me the kiss of life. “Yeah. As soon as I can, anyway. I have to at least try to put Chad back in his body before I go.”

  “You don’t think he’ll be able to get back in on his own, eventually?”

  “I don’t know. I feel like I’m playing a game where no one knows the rules. I’m having a hard time feeling shitty about what I did to him—he was trying to kill me, after all. But I do hope I can put him back. So justice can be done, if nothing else.”

  Trish huffed from her position in the booth beside me. “Justice has been done, if you ask me.”

  I glanced her way discreetly. “It’s not like he’s completely harmless. What if he figures out how to possess people? Or starts following me around town?”

  Amber cleared her throat softly.

  “Er, sorry. Trish says Chad got what he deserved.”

  The waitress came by to freshen our cups. Amber waited for her to leave before answering. “Having been one of his intended victims, I agree with Trish. But you’re right, too. A spirit as malevolent as his may find another way to inflict pain on others. If you can put his spirit back in his body, he can face the council and be turned over to the police.”

  “Won’t he just magic his way out of jail?”

  “Nah. They’ll bind him first. So he can’t use magic.”

  “Ah, that’s a relief.” I dragged a piece of sausage through the syrup on my plate and bit a chunk off, enjoying the mix of sweet and savory flavors on my tongue.

  “I both love and hate watching you eat,” Trish muttered.

  I didn’t bother trying to answer her in front of Amber that time. It wasn’t relevant to the conversation. Also, my mom taught me not to talk with my mouth full.

  “So, once all that business with the council is done… Mexico. Then what?” Amber asked.

  “I guess that depends on how things go in Mexico. I don’t know if Harper can help me or not, but he’s the best chance I’ve got. He was—”

  “Your mentor, yeah. I remember.” A smile ghosted her lips, and I again experienced the awkwardness of her uncanny knowledge.

  “I’d like to meet him, sometime. But assuming all goes well, and he can help you control your new power… then what?”

  “If you know me so well, you should know I don’t usually think that far ahead.”

  Trish snorted. “That’s the truth.”

  “Will you go back to helping spirits?” Amber asked.

  I shrugged. “Probably.”

  Amber pushed her plate aside and leaned forward, cupping her hands around her coffee cup. “I can help.”

  “You can?”

  “Yeah. I mean… you’ve been barely scraping by. The spirit-helping business hasn’t been very lucrative. I can help with that. I’m in marketing, remember? I can help you build your brand.”

  I paused with my fork halfway to my mouth. “My brand?”

  “Yeah. I’ll set you up proper. Get you a website. Advertising. You don’t have to spend your time chasing clients if they come to you.”

  I exchanged a glance with Trish, who arched a brow in a meaningful fashion.

  Amber kept talking. “But we have to ditch the medium thing. It makes you sound like a gypsy gazing into a crystal ball. No one takes that shit seriously. We can brand you as more of a paranormal investigator. Torres Investigations, something like that. Oh! What do you think of this: Dean Torres, Spectromancer.” She gestured with both hands, flaring her fingers as if imagining my name in lights.

  Trish burst out laughing. I grimaced and shoved another forkful of pancakes into my mouth.

  “Mexico,” I muttered. If there’s one thing I’ve learned since my first brush with death changed my life forever, it’s to take things one disaster at a time.

  Want More?

  Find out how Dean met his landlord (and the rest of his werewolf friends) in…

  Early Grave

  Grant Wolves Book 1

  About the Author

  Disenchanted with her mundane human existence, Lori loves spinning tales of magic and creatures of myth & legend existing in the modern world. When not indulging in these flights of fancy, she enjoys cooking, crafting, gaming, and (of course) reading. She’s also a bit of a weather geek and would like to go storm chasing one day.

  Lori lives in Austin, Texas with her husband and three adorable kitties that don’t understand why mommy doesn’t like them climbing on her laptop and batting at the screen.

  The kitties, that is. It’d be really strange if her husband did that.

  www.loridrakeauthor.com

  lori@loridrakeauthor.com