Page 40 of Real Fake Hauntings

“What’s the plan?” he asked.

“We need to get Crane out of the shop.” I pondered the problem. We could bury him in the backyard, but I didn’t want to. My murder house’s backyard had somehow survived this long without a dead body in it, and I didn’t want to end the streak.

It was also creepy and really bad karma.

Oh, boy. I hoped Crane didn’t start haunting the shop too.

Ian, apparently deciding this was as far as my plan would ever get, placed a call.

“Bring the van to the Tea Cauldron,” he said into the phone. Probably talking to Shane. “Get tarps and some other stuff as if you’re out on a job.”

I plucked at a loose thread in my T-shirt’s hem. “Is it okay to involve the strays?”

Ian gave me a come now look. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too. If you don’t want the police, someone else needs to get involved.”

“You’re right.” I hung my head in defeat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry. Not the first body Shane has helped disappear.”

I hoped it would be the last.

But I had my doubts.

THIRTEEN

Ian went to the back gate to wait for Shane, and, I suspected, investigate the backyard and alley for any clues.

I followed, hovering right inside the back door. Not because I thought he’d do a bad job of waiting, but because I didn’t exactly relish being alone with Crane’s remains.

Ian took a long moment to study the two buildings sandwiching my shop, maybe checking if anyone was peering through the windows. Both places were currently closed up and unoccupied, but you could never be too careful when it came to covering up body disposal.

Shane arrived in record time, and I held open the back gate while he and Ian brought some rolled-up tarps inside. A few minutes later, they returned with a much bigger roll of tarp.

Shane closed the back doors of the van with a sharp thunk that made me jump, gave me a nod of goodbye, and got into the driver’s seat.

“Come to the cemetery in about twenty to thirty minutes, as usual. Use the deathtrap,” Ian said before giving me a fast kiss and getting into the van.

In the next moment, they were gone down the alleyway and into the street.

Twenty to thirty minutes, as usual. No problem. I had visited Ian plenty of times before opening the shop. Normal occurrence. Nothing to see here.

Feeling as stiff as if I’d run a marathon yesterday, I closed the gate and returned to the shop.

It looked…off. Empty. Cold. As if Ian had taken the warmth and coziness along with Crane’s body.

“Your shop is a reflection of your inner self. Cold shop, cold soul. Happy shop, happy heart. Cheer up, Hope. Nobody wants to stop at the Icy Cauldron.”

Not in the fall, anyway.

Slapping my cheeks lightly, I told myself to get my head back in the game. So what if someone had died on my floorboards? Not the first time that had happened. All the room needed was some cleansing, and it’d be as good as new.

With renewed determination, I brought a bucket with water and bleach and set out to give the floor a fast wipe. If they had bled Crane here, they had done a great job of not letting any drop of blood go to waste.

Definitely dark witches.

I scrubbed a bit harder, then returned the cleaning supplies to their place.

After turning on the ceiling fan to help dissipate some of the bleach stench, I sprayed some moon water on the floor and awakened my magic.

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