Page 24 of Memento Mori

“Lark and I have different abilities when it comes to the departed. She’s a psychic medium and can sense and hear them and get impressions of people, places, and things, but she can’t see spirits beyond mists and shadow figures. I am sensitive to some of the things that she is, but I can summon ghosts and spirits and see and talk to them like I can see and chat with you sitting here.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. This was all beyond my comprehension and experiences. Yet a small part of me wanted to grab him and demand that he reach Reagan. That he get her to tell him what happened to her. For now, all I did was nod.

“But there’s a catch,” he continued.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“They have towantto be seen. However, when they do, it’s almost like having a child with no boundaries. They refuse to be ignored. You asked me what was wrong a few times now. Nothing’swrong. It’s just that I’ve had some visitors and wasn’t sure how to handle it with you around without scaring you off.”

“Oh,” I said. That actually made sense, and it made me feel a little warm inside. He respected my beliefs enough to not want to scare me away.

“The lovebirds I talked about earlier?”

“Yeah,” I answered.

“It’s my sister, Wren, and her guy, Findley.”

I gasped. I couldn’t help it. “You see your sister?”

“All the time,” he said. “They’re actually an integral part of the show. But they’ve also been trying to find Wren’s killer. And you were right before when you said that you sensed that I’d lost someone else. We lost our cousin, Gunnie, some time ago. There were differences in the way that she was killed, but both Wren and I believe it may have been the same person. Maybe even one of their first kills.”

I felt my heart drop. God, poor Dev. “I’m so sorry,” I said, reaching out to touch his knee. He pulled me in, and I snuggled against him, lending him some strength. I knew if it were me, I would have an easier time talking if I didn’t have to look someone in the eye anyway.

“Yeah. I know you can relate to that pain. The agony of not knowing. Of never getting anywhere. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of them. That something doesn’t remind me of the good times. All the times they made me smile. The stupid things we did together.” He smiled, the expression a bit sad yet wistful.

“Anyway, the reason I’ve been so weird is that Wren and Findley have been coming to me pretty regularly lately with updates on the things that I sent them out to find but also because my cousin has been reaching out to people that aren’t me, and I don’t understand why. She’s always been a little shy, even in life, more so in death—something I always loved about her, the contradiction of her endless collection of corsets and her much more demure personality. But Lark said she contacted her, and then Wren told me this morning that she came to them, too. I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t want to pretend with you anymore or act strangely when around you because I’m trying to hide something that is as natural as breathing to me. Anyway, Wren asked me this morning if I thought you’d be open to something.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“I can do a spell that will allow you to see them temporarily. They’d really like to meet you.”

I pulled away and wrung my hands. “I don’t know, Dev. You’ve opened my eyes to a lot, and I have to say that some things have definitely changed, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that. It’s all still a bit fantastical to me, though I do know that there are unexplained things beyond my comprehension for sure.”

He smiled. “That’s exactly what I told her. We don’t have to, but I wanted you to know, and I wanted you to have the choice.”

“I appreciate that,” I said and then leaned in to give him a kiss. “Was that all?”

“Yeah, that’s all. For now.” He kissed me again. “What do you say we hit the road?”

“Absolutely. Let’s go see Bea.”

Chapter 17

Dev

I watched myself on screen over Lennie’s head. “Here, about thirty minutes outside of N’awlins, we will set up shop for seventy-two hours to get to the bottom of the mysteries of Arborwood. A two-hundred-and-fifty-year-old ancestral plantation home rife with history and teeming with spirits. A place I’ve wanted to explore since the show first aired. It is our duty to give the dead a voice, to bring light to the departed oppressed, and to bring answers to the living. It is our calling. Our passion. This . . . isHaunted New Orleans.”

“Yeah, that looks great.” I looked over at Hanlen. “What do you think?”

She scrunched up her face and nodded. “I like it. A lot. It’s fabulous. The camera work is amazing with you sitting on the stool on the driveway like that, and the house in the background slightly out of focus.”

I stole a quick kiss and then looked around at who remained. “I think we’re good here for today. Everything’s set, and we got some great footage. That random fog that rolled in after that quick shower was perfect.”

“Right?” Aaron said as he strolled up, taking his last bite of whatever he’d grabbed for a snack. The guy was always eating or drinking something. Though I supposed with his body-builder physique, he burned calories faster than the rest of us. “I don’t think we could have asked for better filler footage than we got today. And this one,”—he hitched a thumb at Hanlen—“was made for television. The camera loves you.”

I looked over and saw Hanlen blush and smiled. “He’s right, you know? You saw how well those scenes went when we watched them back.”

“That’s only because I had great interviewers who made me feel comfortable.”

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