Page 69 of Real Fake Hauntings

“I doubt it. Why bother with pentagrams?”

“Some sort of Machiavellian plan to promote Madame Mystique? Maybe she hoped to go viral.”

“She doesn’t need to. She’s booked solid.”

My shoulders slumped with defeat. “You’re right. I just don’t like her.”

“It seems the feeling is mutual,” she said with clear amusement.

“She started it!”

“Sure.”

I paused on the threshold. Night had fallen, and the street was empty and creepy. “Do you know anything about that old dark magic coven?”

“Only that it existed. There’s a house over at Clove Street where the leader supposedly lived.”

A memory of Vicky pointing at a house during her creepy tour of horrors unlocked. She’d told me they had discovered all sorts of potion paraphernalia and blood stuff there. Excitement blossomed in my chest. It was too late to go now, but I’d check it first thing in the morning. If any descendant of the coven was here to cause trouble, they might’ve left clues there.

I thanked Veva and made my way to the cemetery. The suspect’s screenshot might be a bust, but things were looking up again.

TWENTY-ONE

Instead of going to the private entrance of the cemetery, I made my way to the fancy Gothic wrought iron gates. One side stood open, and a small group had gathered right inside. The strays had placed a table covered by black fabric by the entrance with a sign that read “BUY YOUR TICKETS HERE.”

I nodded with approval. We had opted to sell half the tickets in advance, and make the rest available for walk-ins. Tomorrow they’d hang another sign on the gates with the tours’ starting times.

“You made it,” Ian said from behind me.

I turned to see him leaning against the brick column supporting the closed gate, and a familiar fluttering filled my belly. Goodness, but he was a balm for my sore eyes from staring at Dorsey’s conniving, wrinkled face. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Stepping closer, I examined him under the light attached to the fence. He was wearing black slacks, a crisp white shirt, and a blazer instead of his usual jeans and sweaters, and the theme fit him very, very well. He should definitely dress up more often. Perhaps I’d introduce a “suit only” clause to our dates. Yes, I thought, licking my lips. I should definitely do that.

Leaning in, I whispered dramatically, “Are you aware you’re wearing…white?”

He arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I placed my hand on the center of his white shirt, the heat of his body producing a distracting sensation against my hand. Magic tingled in my veins, daring me to do something silly like pour my being into his heat and see what came out of it. Tapping my fingers against the fabric, I said, “This right here.”

He covered my hand with his. “This, huh?”

I stood on my tiptoes. “Indeed.”

“Let’s never mention it again.” He snuck a hand around the back of my neck and pressed his lips against mine, soft for a moment, then hard and insistent. I opened up, allowing him inside, my hand making a mess of his ironed shirt before drifting around his waist. For a few seconds, the world fell away, and it was only him and me and the feel of his body under my hands and of his mouth against mine.

Someone coughed nearby.

“No PDA allowed during the tours,” Alex said with fake seriousness.

We broke apart, and I was a little startled to find everyone watching us with varying levels of grins and snickering. I had completely forgotten where we were. To my surprise, Brimstone and Destruction was part of the group, and…Natalia?

I gaped at the older teen shifter who’d come with her friend to buy a dark magic love potion from me a couple of weeks back.

Alex intercepted my look and threw an arm around the girl like she was his best buddy.

“This is Natalia,” he announced. “She’s here to help.”

Natalia scowled. “I’m here to help.”

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