Page 7 of The Accidental Ghost

Ralph began to cough—until she realized four pairs of eyes were fixated on her.

She blinked. They could see her?

Nina was the first to react. She pushed everyone behind her in a protective stance. “Who the ever-lovin’ fuck are you?”

Ralph winced. “Um…boo?”

Chapter

Three

“You could see me the whole time?”

Shamus nodded, yanking off his knit cap and giving his thick thatch of silvery-gray hair a shake. “Yep. I just had to make you visible to everyone else.”

Ralph bristled, brushing the sand from her long hair, feeling out of sorts. “And you had to douse me with sand to prove it?”

He chuckled, ignoring her angry tone. “It’s not sand. It’s fairy dust, and it helps me reveal ghosts to people who can’t see or hear them.”

If looks could kill, hers would definitely kill him. “Fairy dust? Really? That can’t be real. Who has fairy dust just sitting around in their pocket? This is all absurd.”

Can’t it be real, Ralph? Is it absurd? You’re a ghost in a vampire’s castle. Why is fairy dust where you draw the crazy line?

“Said the fucking ghost,” Nina ever so eloquently confirmed her thoughts.

Shamus held up a bag of colorful dust with a devilishly handsome grin. “Elves have fairy dust just sitting around in their pockets. Elves who can see ghosts, anyway.”

Defeated, she let her shoulders sag. “So I really am a ghost?” Ralph said, her voice small even to her own ears.

Shamus nodded, his lean face showing a fleeting glimpse of sympathy before he straightened. “It looks that way.” His deep, aged-whiskey voice rumbled, stirring a shivering response from her body.

Instantly, fear took over. He was a ghost hunter. Nowhere in his title was there the mention of the word help. She backed away from him, but he held up a hand and gave her a reassuring smile.

“I won’t hurt you. I’m here to help you figure out what’s happening to you. It’s my job. I do it all the time.”

Even in her fear, she couldn’t help but notice how incredibly good-looking Shamus was, and that was kind of the last thing she should be thinking about when she couldn’t even keep her feet on the dagnab floor.

Floating to the grand stone fireplace to move away from Shamus’s charismatic pull, Ralph shook her head in confusion. “Okay, so why am I here? In this castle? With these people? Why didn’t I go…”

He pointed at the massive round ceiling. “Up?”

“Up,” she confirmed. God, how depressing. Where had she gone so wrong?

Wanda was the first to approach her, tentatively anyway, her tone gentle. “Before we get into the mechanics of where you are, how about we start from the beginning? For instance, what’s your name? Where do you…did you live?”

Inhaling, more due to habit than actually being able to perform the act, she answered, “My name is Raphaela Tucci. Er, Ralph. Everyone calls me Ralph. I’m fifty, and I live…lived in Brooklyn.”

“You’re fifty?” Marty cooed. “Wow. Fifty really is the new thirty. You look amazing, and I love your whole vibe. That boho chic with all the bracelets and the peasant blouse and skirt.” She gave a chef’s kiss. “Perfection on you.”

“I agree with Marty,” Wanda said with approval. “Fifty on you does look like the new thirty. You don’t even have any gray hair in that luscious mane.”

Was fifty the new thirty or was fifty just dead?

“Any idea how you ended up kicking the bucket?” Nina asked, one finely shaped eyebrow rising in question.

Marty nudged her in the ribs. “Nina! She just found out she’s passed. Don’t be so damn rude.”

The vampire flicked her fingers in Marty’s face. “She didn’t just find out, Ass-Sniffer. She’s been ghouling around here for at least a week, watching us and trashing a perfectly good fucking cupcake.”

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