Page 1 of Dead Heat

CHAPTER ONE

I sweptdebris off the front porch, my butt swishing and swaying to the beat of Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” as I worked. There was no way I could get through my list of chores without a distraction. I’d been leaning too heavily on my resident ghosts to take care of basic household tasks, so I woke up this morning determined to remedy the situation.

My swishing butt vibrated. I tucked the broomstick under my arm and wrestled the phone from my back pocket.

“What’s up, Paulie?”

“We need you at the crossroads.”

“Now? I’m cleaning.”

“Nice try. Everybody knows you get your ghosts to do your dirty work.”

I held the phone next to the broom as I made a sweeping motion across the floorboards. “Do you hear that? That’s the sound of me doing my own dirty work.”

“Hop on your broomstick and fly over. This is more important.”

“For your sake, I’m going to pretend you didn’t just confuse me with a witch.”

He released an exasperated sigh. “Just hurry up. There’s something here you need to see.”

“Because it’s so pretty that you can’t help but share its beauty with the world?”

“Because we don’t know what the hell they are, and they look too disgusting to touch.”

“Not much of a guard, are you?”

“I’m calling you, aren’t I? My job is to report; your job is to protect.”

I cursed the day I ever agreed to become the liminal deity of the Fairhaven crossroads. What had I been thinking?

“I’ll be there in a few minutes. Keep them contained if you can.”

“They don’t seem interested in going anywhere at the moment. I can’t decide if they think we’re friends or food.”

Shit. That sounded dangerous. “Longsword or katana?”

“How should I know? I’m strictly a claws and fangs guy.”

Spoken like a true werewolf.

I dropped the broom and ran upstairs to my bedroom where I stored my weapons. I pushed up the lid of the trunk and selected two throwing knives and a longsword.

“Lorelei, I need you to come out to the cemetery this instant,” Nana Pratt said.

I spun to face the elderly ghost. “I’m kind of in the middle of a crisis.”

Her gaze dropped to the blades on the floor. “Gee, must be Tuesday.”

“I could say the same to you. What’s the problem now?” With each passing day, I was beginning to regret my decision to appoint Nana Pratt as the property manager. She left no stone unturned, and my yard hada lotof stones.

“I guess I’ll show you on your way out, since you’re clearly in such a hurry.”

“Fine.” I sheathed the knives and hooked the longsword tomy hip, then rushed downstairs to meet her at the adjacent cemetery.

Nana Pratt stood in the middle of the headstones and pointed. “Look at the state of my grave. The weeds are sprouting.”

“How disrespectful of them.”

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