Page 61 of Real Fake Hauntings

Dru left to have lunch with the promise to never return again, and then it was me and Key dealing with the customers until the afternoon rush calmed down. After Key left to get ready for the tour’s rehearsal, it was just me and the evening crowd.

I had never been happier.

Demanding customers and murder investigation aside, this was what recharged my batteries—the satisfaction of watching a face lit up at being presented a great potion, a delicious cup of tea, or a tasty piece of baked goods.

Dru came back, because she was the bestest of best friends, and together we dealt with everything like a well-oiled machine until it was time to close at seven.

Early by my usual standards of eight or nine, but I had another commitment that evening—the seance.

After washing off my zombie makeup and drinking one of Brimstone and Destruction’s fake dark magic potion energy drinks, I drove Bee-Bee to the spot.

I still wasn’t sure why Veva had invited me—witches weren’t mediums—but I was all excitement. This would be my first real seance, and I couldn’t wait to add the experience to my short history of dealing with ghosts, especially since it was happening in someone else’s house.

My house already had enough ghosts as it was.

The address took me and Bee-Bee to a typical Old Olmeda creepy old mansion—a three story Victorian Gothic monstrosity with a tiny front yard squished between two more modern brick buildings.

I parked nearby and gaped at the front of the dark house, immediately recognizing it—this had been part of Vicky’s ghost tour.

According to legend, after marrying a wealthy widower and then becoming a widow herself, a woman had moved here and consigned her young stepdaughter to the attic with no one the wiser while taking charge of her inheritance. But when the greedy woman had died unexpectedly, the stepdaughter had slowly starved to death as all the servants left and the house sat empty for weeks while it sold.

I sent the universe a silent thank you for giving me a house filled with the evil deeds of witches outright killing each other and the occasional bystander, rather than the worst humanity had to offer.

As I was pulling on the cuff of my jacket to knock on the door without having to touch the block of old wood—no doubt dating back to the time of Cinderella horrors—it opened, and Veva appeared on the threshold, a warm expression lighting up her face.

“Hello, Hope. I’m so glad you came.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Veva liked to dress the part of tarot shop owner—a mixture of elegance and mystery. Today she wore an elegant dark gray turtleneck sweater tucked into jeans and her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun. Golden hoops dangled from her ears, and smoky eyeshadow highlighted her gleaming brown eyes.

Was there time to return home and trade my shop’s logo long T-shirt for something more appropriate? Ah, well, live by the free advertisement, die by the shame of free advertisement.

Veva ushered me into a room furnished like a tasteful funeral parlor with an antique twist. Dark wooden paneling covered the walls and equally dark wooden furniture peppered the space—a writing desk in a corner, a bookcase full of old tomes, a glass coffee table that looked suspiciously like a coffin, and a large sofa with plush deep-purple-striped cushioning. The carpet was another shade of deep-plum purple, and the heavy curtains drawn over the windows were straight black. I almost expected Morticia Addams to walk in and offer refreshments.

Two women sat on the sofa, perched on the edge as if they were scared of touching anything in the room. I couldn’t blame them. They sent me unsure smiles.

“Hope,” Veva said, “these are Leah and Miriam. Leah, Miriam, this is our local witch, Hope Avery.”

Veva had already told me everyone but the two of us and our medium were human, but to play up my witchy role, so I smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I only do good magic.”

They laughed nervously and answered in unison, “Nice to meet you.”

“Is this your first seance too?” I asked.

That seemed to surprise them. “You’ve never done one?” Leah asked.

“Oh, not at all. This is my first time.”

“Ours too,” Miriam said with relief.

The room filled with silence, but the couple relaxed visibly. Leah pointed at a bust on a pedestal and leaned in to whisper something into Miriam’s ear. Miriam nodded and whispered something back.

Using their distraction, I showed Veva the screenshot of my suspect.

“Do you recognize this person?” I asked in a low tone.

“No. Who is it?”

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