Page 7 of My Blind Date is a Ghost

"No," I say. "At least..." I don't think I am. I don't feel any pain. And considering how in tune I am with all my senses right now, I'm sure I would feel it if I were injured. But the last thing I remember when I was alive was being attacked by a werewolf. I look down and run my hands over my bodice. Thankfully, everything appears to be in order. "No, I'm fine."

"So, what were you doing out there?" Detective Dawson asks.

I shake my head. "I don't know." I look out the window and watch the trees going by. He turns onto another road and I see the cemetery. My whole body shakes and I break out into gooseflesh.

"You don't know?" he asks.

"No," is all I can say. It's the truth, after all. I don't know why I was there or how I got there.

"Who are you?" he asks.

I pause for a moment, wondering if there is any reason why I shouldn't tell him my name. After all, I'm supposed to be dead. Someone brought me back. Someone... Someone... Is someone looking for me?

"Are you sure you're all right?" Detective Dawsons asks again. "Did you hit your head? Maybe that is why you can't remember what you were doing in the woods." He picks up a receiver from the dashboard. "I'm going to take you to the hospital. Get you checked out."

"No!" I practically yell. "I mean... I don't need to go to the hospital. I just need to go home."

"Okay," he says, putting the receiver back. "Where is home."

I open my mouth to tell him to take me to The Book Coven. It has been my home for over two hundred years. But I stop myself. I wouldn't live there as a human. And I know that Detective Dawson has visited the bookshop many times. He will know that no one lives there. And I can't have him take me to the home I shared with my husband. It was torn down decades ago after a century of neglect. I think a school stands on the land now. I haven't visited it in ages, so I can't remember. So, where can I go?

"Do you know where Beverly Barnes lives?" I ask hopefully. I've been to her home before. I follow her home from the bookstore sometimes. But I don't know the actual address.

Detective Dawson chuckles. "Yes, I know. I should have known she was involved in this. It would explain why you are dressed that way."

"What do you mean?" I ask, intrigued.

"You know, old fashioned," he says. "I've seen some of the witches dress like that for different events. So, you are a witch?"

"Hmm, I might as well be. Everyone seems to think so."

"So, what are you then?" he asks.

"Just a plain old boring human, I'm afraid," I say.

"I highly doubt that you are boring," he says. I look over and we lock eyes for a moment. There is something...warm in his gaze. Affectionate. A look I haven't seen in a very long time. A look I long for.

"You look...so familiar," he says, breaking eye contact and looking back to the road. "What's your name?"

I shake my head and let out a sigh. "I wish I could tell you."

"Why can't you?" he asks.

"I don't know," I say. "I don't know what happened to me. I don't know who to trust. I'm sorry."

"Hmm," he says thoughtfully. "Are you sure you're all right? I'd feel a lot better if we got you checked out. At least make sure you don't have a concussion."

"Let me talk to Beverly," I say. "She will know what to do."

"Beverly Barnes," he says. "She is like the whole town's grandmother, isn't she? Everyone goes to her with their problems."

"She is very wise," I say. "Only the very foolish would underestimate her."

"I've enjoyed learning from her," he says.

"Are you a warlock?" I ask.

He laughs. "No, certainly not. Like you, I am just a plain old boring human."

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