Page 2 of Real Fake Hauntings

“Hope,” Dru said, eyeing me warily. “You’re thinking about sappy stuff again, aren’t you?”

“Never.” I blinked my suddenly wet eyes. “Just excited about Halloween.”

I wasn’t even half lying. Thinking about Halloween made me all giddy with joy. Olmeda was the perfect town to celebrate Halloween, full of gloomy old buildings and scary stories—the real-life Cinderella who actually died in the attic forgotten by everyone, the servant who ate her master and ex-lover’s heart, the loyal hound who prowls the streets at night looking for his owner’s murderers, not to mention the long history of murders in my own shop. Old Olmeda was rife with stories like these. Mix in the popular bar scene of Guiles and Romary, and it made for a great place to celebrate anything, especially spooky times.

And this year was extra special. For the first time in over two decades, Ian Cavalier was opening his family cemetery for special Halloween tours.

As usual, the thought of Ian made my belly all fluttery. His tall, wide shifter frame, the dark brown hair that fell to his shoulders and which he usually kept gathered back at the nape of his neck, and the deepest, most beautiful green eyes.

“Oh, Lord,” Dru said with disgust. “Now you’re thinking about Cavalier.”

“I would never. Here.” Wiping the silly grin off my face, I took out my phone. “Let’s take a selfie.”

I leaned over the counter, and Dru obliged grudgingly and did the same. We smiled at the camera—at least, one of us did—and I took the picture, then posted it on the shop’s social media with the caption “Almost Halloween! Come get your witchy tea fix!”

The shop’s followers had steadily increased during the last few weeks, and we even got real comments from time to time on the posts. We weren’t anywhere as popular as Fairy Circle Cakes, but considering they posted pictures of cute cupcakes and all I had was tea, I figured I couldn’t be too disappointed.

One day, though.

There was a knock on the door, and we turned our attention toward the front of the shop. My chest filled to bursting with excitement. Our first customer of the day?

“Is that the fire mage?” Dru asked, scowling.

It was. Jeremy the fire mage, aka Brimstone and Destruction, aka Key’s uncle, aka one of my dark magic clients, was standing outside our door.

Not that I was giving him real dark magic, of course. It was my second mission in life to convert all of Bagley’s dark magic clients into good magic users by the careful application of placebo potions.

Frowning, I went to the door, flipped the closed sign to open, and unbolted it. Brimstone and Destruction normally used the back door, as any paranormal criminal worth their salt would, so this was deeply suspicious. I still wasn’t sure what exactly it was he did for the paranormal underground community, but being a fire mage there were several arsonist options that popped into mind.

Brimstone and Destruction stepped inside, staring down at me with his usual intensity. He was tall and thin and blond and was wearing a black suit complete with a black shirt and vest. Very old-fashioned. Very vampire.

“I want to help with Halloween,” he intoned. A crack of thunder underscored his words, making me jump. I peeked through the window. It was slightly cloudy but nowhere near thunderstorm levels.

“You want to help with Halloween?” I repeated.

“Key told me about the cemetery tour.”

“You want to help with the cemetery tour?” I repeated again, to make sure I had things right.

His stare intensified, and I wondered if he really had vampire blood in him and was trying to mesmerize me. “Yes.”

“But Cavalier…” I lowered my voice, as if Dru and Bagley didn’t know what Ian was. “He’s a bounty hunter.”

“Key told me he isn’t involved. I would be an asset,” he said in his best funereal voice.

He wasn’t wrong. With his sense of drama, the way he acted, and his good looks, he would make for a great tour guide. Still, it was a risky move. I was pretty sure Ian knew that Key’s uncle was involved in unsavory paranormal stuff, but I didn’t want to parade him in front of a bounty hunter, even if said bounty hunter was known for ignoring anything that didn’t directly affect him.

“Do I need to talk to the Council, witch?” Brimstone intoned in an extra truculent tone.

“Seriously?” I threw up my hands. “You guys need to stop trying to blackmail me into doing what you want. What about what I want? Did I ever blackmail you into leaving me alone? No!”

“Uh…” Brimstone blinked, clearly taken aback.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought!”

Irritated, I spun on my heel to see Dru trying not to laugh. I sent her a don’t you dare glare. Her shoulders shook harder. Hmph.

“The job—” Brimstone began behind me.

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