Page 77 of Real Fake Hauntings

“Ms. Bagley?”

TWENTY-THREE

Halloween.

No answer came.

“Ms. Bagley!” I exclaimed.

Nothing.

“You are the worst witch ever. Even worse than me.”

Nothing of nada.

“I give up, Ms. Bagley. I’ll do as you wish. I’ll help you gain corporeal form.”

A silence fit for a crypt descended upon the shop, cut only by a faint horn coming from the street.

Deep unease unfurled in my belly, and I gave it one more try. “Ms. Bagley, I’m sorry I put you in timeout,” I pleaded, having to fake none of it. “Please answer? I need your help.”

When nothing happened, the unease turned into pure dread.

Oh, Good Mother Earth.

I rushed out of the room to grab the bag of cemetery dirt and some crystals and herbs. Hands shaking, I knelt on the floor of the shop and made a small circle with the dirt on the hardwood planks. After arranging the crystals to give me as much of a boost as possible, I tried to calm my erratic heartbeat and focus on my intention.

Death is unavoidable.

Death leaves an imprint.

But life is never truly lost.

Magic tingled down my arms and through my fingertips into the dirt. Holding my focus, I waited for the spell to grasp onto any nearby spirit.

Instead, it dissipated, leaving nothing behind but a hole in my chest and a serious case of noodle legs.

I slumped against the counter. This couldn’t be happening.

But, oh, it made so much sense.

Bagley would know what the Council did with keys. She would’ve seen where Dru and I stored ours while we were in the shop. She would’ve seen us use the alarm.

She might’ve told this to anyone who had entered the shop since I awoke her spirit two months ago.

Son of a witch.

I put on my sneakers, scrambled up, and chugged down one of Brimstone’s extra-strength energy drinks. Once I was on steadier legs, I made my way out the back of the shop and pushed Bee-Bee into the street. Driving like the devil was on my heels, I made it to the cemetery in record time. It was still early morning, and I encountered little traffic. Not that it mattered. I had one goal in mind, and nothing, not even a truck filled with blocks of ham and cheese was going to stand in my way.

By the time I reached the cemetery gates, it occurred to me I should’ve called Ian first, but in my distress, I’d left my phone at the shop, so instead I pressed the call button by the smaller gate.

Several times.

The gate opened automatically, and I thanked Ian’s security-conscious mind for installing a camera somewhere. I pushed Bee-Bee in and left her to her own devices as I ran up the incline to his house.

He met me halfway, his black T-shirt untucked and his hair falling free around his face. Unhappy barks emanating from the house told me Rufus and Fluffy were sensing the mood.

“What is it, Hope?” Ian asked, holding onto my arms. “What happened?”

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