Page 69 of Bright Dark Curses

I wished Ian was here to talk it over with.

Bringing my phone out, I texted him that I missed him. When he didn’t reply after a couple of minutes, I assumed he was busy and got a little sad.

No time to delve into my misery, though—there was a shop to be run.

“Jeremy,” I said during a small lull. “Do you know of any paranormal working at the movie set?”

He gave me one of his imperious looks. “I know many people.”

“That’s why I’m asking you.” About that and not the whole vlog and possible boy band situation. What if he didn’t want anyone to know? I didn’t want to get set on fire, so it’d stay secret. “You know everyone in Olmeda…and beyond.” I made sure to intone those last words in a proper ominous tone.

He puffed out his chest. “Indeed.”

“I’m just curious about who works at these kinds of things. Does it attract some paranormals more than others?”

He was thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t think it attracts any specific kind of paranormal more than others. Shifters enjoy the manual labor of moving things around.”

“Have you visited the film set yet?”

His chin lifted in a haughty way. “I’m not interested in that.”

“More of a theater man, huh?”

“My rendition of Oberon was very well received in high school,” he said with pride.

“Do you still act?” I asked, curious now. I’d wondered about his acting abilities since watching him do the Halloween tour, but hadn’t thought to delve further until now.

He shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“I’d love to see you next time,” I said with genuine enthusiasm. I wondered if he did one of those one-man shows with self-made pyrotechnics. Maybe a reading of Poe’s poetry with thunder for crow cries?

Besides, the more friendly we became, the fewer chances he’d burn the shop down if he discovered the dark-magic potions I made for him were simply energy drinks on steroids.

He turned around as a new customer entered the shop. “We’ll see.”

I decided to take my lunch break while the shop was relatively empty. I made sure Fluffy and Rufus were still comfortable, heated Italian leftovers, and moved into the first-floor kitchen with Bagley.

“About time,” she complained. “Do you know how boring it is to watch the closed door of a locker?”

“About as boring as being in jail, I assume, which is where you should be.”

The evil spawn cackled. “They would’ve never caught me, child.”

“Too bad you didn’t catch yourself when your protégé”—that would be my ex-BFF, Vicky—“shoved you down the stairs.” I speared some cheesy macaroni and popped it in my mouth. Hmm, delicious.

“It isn’t polite to bring up our murders when talking to ghosts, young lady,” she chided.

“But it’s such a great example of karma.”

“Not everything is about a lesson, Hope Avery.”

I shuddered at her use of my full name. She had a way of saying it in a mix of grandmotherly chastisement and gleeful hopes for my horrible demise that induced nightmares.

“Have you found out anything new about the movie curse?” Bagley asked eagerly.

“That there’s a dark witch involved.” I narrowed my eyes at the locket, which I had placed on the counter rather than hanging from the faucet. Over at the sink, Tiny Kraken had popped its small head out and was staring longingly at it. Feeling like a horrible ghost-pet owner, I put a small spoon in the sink for it to play with.

Tiny Kraken immediately grew a long tentacle and began poking and moving the spoon around.

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