Page 39 of The Cursed Fae

As soon as I retreated to the attic bedroom in my grandmother's house for the night, I called Lena. Not only did I owe her a call, I really wanted to talk to her after everything that had happened since my arrival in Arcane Landing. I dialed Lena's number and then waited. And waited. And waited. Her phone rang fifteen times before I hung up and called again. Her voicemail never came over the line.

Weird.

I glanced at the clock on my phone and did the time zone math. It was still early evening on the West coast. On a Saturday, Lena was probably at work. She would see the missed call the next time she looked at her phone and get back to me.

My next phone call was trickier. Nana said Laz was fine, but I wanted to hear his voice. I needed to hear his voice. Needed to make sure he truly was okay. Unfortunately, I didn't have his phone number. I had Morgan's number, as well as Astrid's and Belle's. Any of my new friends would have Laz's cellphone information, but I just couldn't muster the energy or the enthusiasm to talk to the girls.

So, I did the only thing I could think of in the moment.

“Hey, Missy. Can you hear me?” I whispered to the empty bedroom.

My friendly neighborhood spirit didn't appear.

I closed my eyes and conjured her face in mind's eye. “Missy? Can you hear me?”

Naturally, I envisioned her rolling her eyes. It was Missy's everyday look. The spirit still didn't materialize in the bedroom.

Frustrated and desperate, I hissed, “Melissa Derringer, if you want my help to catch your killer, you will get your skinny, transparent ass here right now.”

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees in the blink of an eye. My eyes popped open to find Missy glaring down at me.

“What in Gaia's name do you want?” she demanded. “I'm not at your beck and call—this is bullshit.”

For a second, she stunned me into silence. Partially because the summoning had worked. Mostly because Missy wore lacy crimson lingerie, including a garter belt that held up black thigh-highs.

“I'm sorry.” I tried and failed to suppress a smile. “Did I interrupt something? I wasn't aware sexy spirit time was a thing.”

Hands on her hips, Missy rolled her eyes. “It's not, Spirit Virgin.” She sighed, and her voice held considerably less attitude when she spoke again. “It's date night. Morgan and I always spent Saturday nights together in her dorm room.”

My amusement dried up. “I'm so sorry, Missy.”

She shook her head of long, dark hair and came to perch on the edge of the bed. This time, I didn't move to make room. Where I should’ve felt her touch, there was only a cold essence. Could she feel me? I reached out and poked her arm.

Missy swatted at my hand but her fingers passed right through it. “What are you doing?”

“Can you feel that?” I asked.

Her expression clearly stated that I was an idiot. “I'm dead, Winter. What do you think?”

Honestly, I didn't know what I thought.

“You can change your clothes,” I pointed out, my tone more defensive than I meant. “Is that normal spirit behavior?”

Missy leaned back, resting her weight on her palms as she admired her own body. “How should I know? This is my first time being dead. I bought this set for Morgan's birthday next weekend. When I saw her huddled in her bed watching our favorite movie, I thought about the lingerie and it appeared on me. I didn't expect that.”

Guilt mixed with the potpie sitting heavy in my stomach, and I wanted to throw up. My selfishness astounded me. I'd summoned Missy to ask for Laz's number without considering that he wasn't the only one deserving of my concern. Morgan had saved all our lives. Her timely arrival and incredible magical prowess had given us a chance to fight, a chance to run. A chance to live. So soon after losing Missy, the vampire attack must've been hard on Morgan.

“How is she?” I asked softly.

Missy shrugged. “Astrid is with her. At least she's not alone. Morgan's a caretaker, so looking after Astrid is helping her cope.”

I frowned. “Is Astrid okay?”

“She will be. She twisted her ankle when she fell down the embankment. The rocks scratched her face, nothing major.”

“What about Morgan? Is she hurt?”

Missy beamed, pride radiating from her essence. “No, not at all. I know it might not seem like it, but Morgan is extraordinarily powerful. And a great fighter. Those fanged nightmares never stood a chance against her.”

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