Page 60 of Real Fake Hauntings

It sounded like he had wanted to say something else, and I wondered what that could’ve been.

“Do you need Fluffy and Rufus?” he asked.

“No, not yet.” I lowered the phone to check the time. “I need to eat, check on Bosko, and then I have the seance later. I don’t have time to pick them up and sniff around.”

He laughed again. That made three times so far in this conversation. I was aiming for a record.

“Then I’ll see you later.”

“You sure will, handsome.”

I made kissy noises, eliciting yet another chuckle, and ended the call.

Mate. The word didn’t sound as scary during moments like this. Was there any difference between a mate and a boyfriend if even the shifters dropped the term with so much ease?

I’d always thought mate was something bigger than marriage, an unshakable bond that tied people together until the end of time. But wasn’t that simply the paranormal romance lover in me?

A mate was someone special, sure, but it didn’t have to go that deep.

As for why the notion of being called something that did go that deep made me break out in sweat and filled me with the urge to run away, I didn’t want to examine the answer too closely.

After stopping at a fast-food chain for a quick burger, I dropped by Bosko’s shop. It was already open, and he stood behind the counter.

“I’m not buying anything today,” I warned. “I’m here to talk.”

Bosko arched his brows.

Ten minutes later, I exited the shop with a keychain in the form of a ghost saying BOOlmeda and no answers to my questions other than, “I was at the shop, lady,” and, “Sure, I painted a pentagram on my own wall because I have nothing else to do, please arrest me, police witch woman.”

Judging from his tone and the sarcastic way he had offered his wrists, I deduced he was laughing at me with that last one.

As I walked back to Bee-Bee, one of the tour horse carriages pulled past me, the people inside looking at everything through their phones.

Vicky hadn’t liked that. She had told me it was annoying when people started looking up everything she said about the city on their phones while on the tour.

I sighed, a dull pang of hurt poking my chest. Halloween had probably been Vicky’s favorite holiday. Another thing we’d had in common.

If she hadn’t turned out to be an evil, murdering dark witch, she would’ve been helping us with the tour right now, adding all kinds of creepy stories to the ones we already had.

The thought gave me pause. Olmeda had a long and rich history with dark magic. According to Vicky, there had been a dark magic coven residing in Olmeda a while back, responsible for some of the most chilling stories.

What if a descendant had returned to mess with everyone?

Or worse, what if they’d come to continue their ancestors’ work?

NINETEEN

By the time I got back to the shop, the line outside had actually grown.

I stood there, taking in the sight for a couple of minutes before meeting the chaos inside.

Mark was gone, and Key and Dru were moving around serving drinks and muffins like someone was playing them at triple speed. Thank goodness I’d ordered extra muffins for today and tomorrow.

I put the candy bars in the storage room and snuck in a call to Montel’s Council librarian. Dave was a nice guy, and he’d do some deeper research into the history of dark magic covens in the area if I asked.

Unfortunately, it was Saturday, so nobody picked up.

The universe was telling me something here, but I wasn’t sure what it was. I wished I had the time to run upstairs and ask my spellbook for some guidance, but Dru needing a break trumped my inner child’s need for the closest thing I had to a hug from Grandma.

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