Page 37 of My Blind Date is a Ghost

“They were, perhaps, trying to bind you, trap you,” Jacob says.

“Why?” I ask.

“I can’t say for sure,” Jacob says. “There are magical spells and rituals that can be done with certain types of souls. Of course, we don’t allow this kind of magic in Mystic Cove. Summoning and trapping souls is a banned art.”

“What kind of rituals?” Beckett asks. I feel a little nauseous. I don’t know if I want to know.

“It varies greatly,” Jacob says. “But a powerful soul could even double a witch’s or warlock’s power. Or the soul of a werewolf could give the person shifter powers. Or the soul of a child could give a person powerful intuition. Things like that.”

“But I wasn’t any of those things,” I say. “So why me?”

Beckett shifts uncomfortably.

“What?” I ask him.

“Well, it seems that whoever brought you back must have known something about your life or death that made you a target.”

“No,” I say, crossing my arms.

“Cora…” he says.

“No! I don’t want you looking into my death. We talked about this.”

“I’m just certain that your death and reanimation are connected,” Beckett insists.

I take in a deep breath, getting ready to yell, when I see the lights around us flickering. I close my eyes and let the breath out slowly, counting to ten. When I open my eyes, everyone is staring at me, holding their own breaths.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Look, it doesn’t matter what happened to me in the past. But whoever tried to bind me is using banned magic. That’s what’s important. We just need to find the witches or warlocks who are using banned magic. Can we just agree on that?”

Beckett, Jacob, Sophia, and Beverly all exchange glances. I know they don’t want to agree with me, but they don’t want to upset me either.

“Fine,” Beckett says. “We will see what we can find out without looking into your past.”

“Thank you,” I say, my stomach calming down enough for me to take a drink of my café mocha. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Jacob, Sophia, do you think you can learn more about the ritual if I take you out to see what’s left of it?” Beckett asks.

“Sure,” Jacob says. “Where did you find it.”

“It’s out by the cemetery. It was actually Veronica Robbins who found it.”

“Veronica Robbins?” I ask. “Never mind. It can’t be her. She must just be named after the woman I knew.”

“No, it’s her,” Beckett says. “She told me she was there when you died. She was the mortician who prepared your body.”

I put my hand to my chest as my heart thumps hard. “She…she knew…knows me?” Veronica and I weren’t close. She rarely ventured into town. But the idea of seeing a familiar face, of talking to someone who has been around as long as I have, is too tempting for words.

“Can I go with you?” I ask.

“Are you sure?” Beckett asks. “She might remember things you don’t want to talk about.”

I understand his meaning. “Well, I don’t want to talk to her about my death. I just want to…to talk to someone who understands what I’m going through.”

Beckett nods. “Fine. We will all drive out together as soon as we are done eating.”

“In the meantime,” Sophia says slyly, “you can tell us about your date last night.”

I choke on my coffee and Beckett nearly spits out his bite of pastry.

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