Page 29 of My Blind Date is a Ghost

“Yeah, I asked Rachel about it recently,” she says. “If you want to know more, you should talk to her.”

“Rachel?”

“She owns and runs The Eat,” she says. “Apparently, the feud goes back to her ancestor.”

“What’s her surname?”

“Holland. Rachel Holland.”

“Oh…” My voice quivers and my hand shakes so much I have to put my coffee down before I spill it.

“Yeah. I guess her ancestor was accused of killing a witch and was hanged for it.” She shakes her head. “Nasty business. Rachel said he was innocent. But how can they know when it happened so long ago?”

I shrug, afraid to speak lest I give something away.

“Anyway, I guess a lot of people were afraid that Mystic Cove would become another Salem, so a lot of wolf families left. They formed their own packs in other areas not far from here. But that’s why the pack here has to be so protective of their territory. Some wolves from the other clans think of Mystic Cove as their ancestral homeland and try to take it back sometimes. Adrian has to constantly be wary of other clans trying to move into our territory.”

“Our…” I smile and shake my head. “You are thinking like a wolf already.”

Olivia laughs. “Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, I don’t really know why the wolves and witches let stuff from the past bother them so much. Time to move on, right?”

“Indeed.” After all, I was the woman Jeremiah Holland murdered. I got over it a very, very long time ago. It was a terrible tragedy for all who were touched by my death and Jeremiah’s execution. But that’s all it was—a tragedy. If I can get over it, so can everyone else. I wonder if I should tell everyone who I am. Maybe I can help bridge this gap between the werewolves and the witches.

I open my mouth to say something, but then I stop. I am practically a stranger here. I have spent the last two hundred years watching everyone, but mostly people related to my family or who had connections to The Book Coven. I haven’t followed many wolves. I didn’t even know who Rachel was. I don’t actually know the personal connections between many of the people of the town. The strain between the wolves and witches might date back to my death, but my death might have been only one incident in a line of many over the centuries. Plus, I have no way of knowing how the werewolves might respond to finding out I’m alive. What if they blame me for Jeremiah’s death? They might hold me responsible and… I shudder to think about being killed by a werewolf again.

“So, tell me about your wedding plans,” I say instead.

Olivia starts talking about her dress and how she wants to decorate the reception venue. But after only a minute, Beverly comes in.

“There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Come on, I have something to tell you.”

“You better hurry,” Oliva says as she starts putting our dishes on the tray.

“Thanks for the coffee break,” I say. “I needed it.”

“Anytime.”

For a quick moment, I wonder if there are ways other than admitting who I am that could help heal the rift between the witches and the werewolves.

CHAPTER 13

I walk back into The Book Coven, following Beverly like a cowed dog with her tail between her legs. Everyone else has gone, and the broom and dustpan and cleaning up the last of the shattered glass. Beverly flips and switch and the lights turn back on.

Beverly lets out a sigh. “Better. It gets dark much too late this time of year.”

“I’m sorry—” I start to say, but Beverly holds up a hand.

“My dear, I can’t begin to understand what you are going through. It is only expected that you might blow your top once in a while.”

“It doesn’t excuse what I did,” I say.

Beverly shrugs. “Let’s not make it a habit. Florescent lightbulbs are expensive.”

“Speaking of expensive,” I say, “Olivia put my coffee on your account.”

“That’s no big deal,” Beverly says.

“But what about the clothes Sophia bought for me?” I ask. “My room and board at your house. What if I need a car?”

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