A Ghost and a Hard Place (A Reaper Witch Mystery Book 3) Page 2

  “Maybe,” Allie said. “Tell you what, you should go take a break. You’ve worked long hours every day for the last two weeks, and you deserve to have some extra time to get ready for your date.”

  “You sure?” There weren’t many customers in the restaurant at the moment, but I felt bad leaving her alone, even if she did have Carey to help her out. We could count the number of guests currently staying at the inn on one hand, too, so it was fairly quiet at the moment.

  “Of course I am,” she said. “You’ve been working so hard lately. Take the rest of the afternoon off. You’ve earned it.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a smile of gratitude. “I appreciate it.”

  I went to change out of my uniform, my heart lifting at the prospect of getting to go on a proper date with Drew for the first time since we’d decided to act on our growing feelings for one another. Once I found something to do for the next two hours, anyway. As I crossed the lobby, a teenage boy whose ghost liked to haunt the inn drifted over to me. “Maura?”

  “Hey, Eric,” I said. “Something wrong?”

  “I need your help,” he said. “My friend has gone missing.”

  “You mean that girl you hang out with?” I usually saw the two of them together around the restaurant, though they both insisted they’d never been a couple before or after death.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I haven’t seen Lara in two days. I know you don’t like ghosts bothering you, but I don’t know who else to ask to help me find her.”

  Frankly, it was kind of nice to hear that admission despite the bad news about his friend, because it meant the local ghosts weren’t afraid that I’d unleash my Reaper skills and banish all of them if they got too close. I’d worked hard on making them see I was nonthreatening to ghosts while simultaneously making it clear that I had zero patience for being haunted either, so I was glad they’d been paying attention.

  “Sure, I’ll keep an eye out for her,” I said.

  As long as I made it back to the inn in time for my date with the detective, I might as well do something useful and try a little ghost hunting.

  2

  I followed the ghost out of the inn and towards the bridge arching over the river that cut through the middle of the town and had flooded twenty years ago, causing great devastation in the process. As a result, a large number of houses in the surrounding streets lay empty and abandoned, while the others had been rebuilt and renumbered in a manner that made them hard to navigate without a map.

  “Where did you last see Lara?” I asked the ghost.

  “Out here,” he said, vaguely gesturing towards the brick building behind us. “She likes to wander around the inn a lot, but she isn’t in any of the other rooms. I checked, and they’re all empty.”

  I looked around the area. I could theoretically sense any nearby ghosts, but it’d take me a while to work through all of them to see if Lara’s ghost was lurking among them. Asking the handful of guests at the hotel or the people in the restaurant wouldn’t be much help either, because as far as I knew, none of them could actually see spirits themselves.

  Outside the inn, a muddy trench filled the area between the riverbank and the side of the building, while the yard at the back of the inn ended against a brick wall that divided it from the neighbouring street. If the ghost had wandered in either direction, she might’ve ended up anywhere, and following on foot would be difficult. On the other hand, most spirits usually stuck to one particular area, like one building or even one room. Only the strongest had a tendency to roam. I’d have seen her if she’d been inside the restaurant, so that was off the list, but my best bet for finding her was to use my Reaper skills.

  “Okay,” I said. “I can run a general check of all the ghosts in the area, but even then, I might overlook her. If I wanted to track her directly, I’d need to get my hands on an object that was important to her when she was alive, if you have anything I can use.”

  “We both died in the floods,” he said. “I don’t know if there’s anything left of hers… my mum moved away from town after we died. It was so long ago.”

  “Sorry.” The town’s history was brimming with similar tragic stories, as the floods were the main reason there were so many ghosts around. In the same floods, the town’s Reaper had lost his apprentice and had consequently retired from Reaping altogether, leaving everyone who died in town from then on to linger after death. “I’ll have to do a general check, then. One second.”

  Shadows swept out from underneath my feet, flooding the world. The inn disappeared under a blanket of darkness that obscured everything except for the glowing ghost of the teenage boy and several other spirits within range of us. While I could no longer see living people from this view, the ghosts’ presences were like glowing lights in the gloom, while the outline of a door appeared etched against the darkness. Eric flinched when he spotted the door, which led to the afterlife—the permanent bit, from which there was no returning.

  “What’s that doing here?” he said. “I don’t want to move on. I just want to find Lara.”

  “Ignore the door,” I told him. “It shows up every time I come here, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to force you to move on. I’ll have a look for Lara.”

  I squinted into the darkness, focusing on the glowing lights indicating the spirits within a mile or so. My Reaper senses were rusty in almost all ways, but even if they hadn’t been, trying to pinpoint one ghost among a thousand was like trying to identify someone through a blurred window. I focused on the nearest glowing light, which resolved into the shape of an elderly woman. Not the right ghost, then.

  I moved on to the next—and out of nowhere, a blast of cold air slammed into me and jolted me right out of the afterlife. I staggered on the ground in front of the inn, reeling, a deep chill settling on my shoulders. I knew that feeling, though I hadn’t felt it for a long, long time.

  Another Reaper was nearby.

  I stood completely still for an instant. With the exception of my brother, I hadn’t set eyes on another Reaper in years, and the last place I expected to find one was here, in a town where the only Reaper had gladly stepped out of his role a long time ago. Impossible.

  Shadows crept around my ankles again as I regained my balance. I peered into the surrounding darkness, but the glowing spirits had dissipated. I saw no signs of the new Reaper either, so I let the shadows disperse again. The Reaper himself must be within close range for his presence to have affected me so strongly, certainly strong enough to be an active Reaper, though it was hard for me to know for sure when it’d been so long since I’d set eyes on a fellow ghost hunter. I’d left my own skills to lie dormant after my brother’s death and my subsequent departure from the town where I’d grown up, when I’d left my scythe behind along with all my other tools for navigating the afterlife.

  After so many years of putting as much distance between myself and my old Reaper apprenticeship as possible, the very last thing I’d wanted was to collide with another of my kind and drag everything in my past back out into the open again. Yet if I’d sensed the Reaper, they’d definitely sensed me, too. That meant I needed to find the newcomer before they found me first, and I’d much rather confront them here in the waking world than over in the afterworld.

  I followed the direction the blast of cold air had come from and spotted a man standing on the bridge, half hidden from sight. He wore a long black cloak, standard Reaper gear, that covered his body from head to toe. His dark hair was shot through with grey, and I’d have estimated his age at between forty and fifty. The scythe strapped to his back banished any notion I might have had of him being here for anything other than Reaper business.

  Yet if he was playing by the rules, he wasn’t allowed to just wander into another Reaper’s territory whenever he felt like it. Official Reapers had to get permission from their council before so much as breathing in the wrong direction, so if he’d been sent here by them, then he’d be displeased to see me to say the least. On the other hand
, if he was a rogue, that might cause me even more trouble. If he’d banished the ghost, without permission from the local Reaper, he was breaking the law. No question.

  Unfortunately, old Harold wasn’t exactly known for taking the initiative. He might not even know another Reaper had wandered into his territory. Which meant I was the one who had to break the bad news to him, assuming he even cared. Tension gripped me, but I forced my breathing to calm and then strode over to the newcomer, waiting until I was directly behind him on the bridge to clear my throat.

  The Reaper rotated on his heel, studying me with no surprise in his expression. “And you are?”

  “Maura,” I said. “I work at the inn. Are you new in town?”

  “Obviously,” he said. “My name is Shelton.”

  He didn’t clarify whether he meant his first name, surname, or just a nickname, but it was a miracle he’d answered at all. Did I mention Reapers aren’t known for their social skills? Years of dragging ghosts into the afterlife tends to erode one’s patience for dealing with the living. Several good reasons aside from my brother’s death had spurred me to give up on the idea of a career in Reaping and strike out on my own.

  “What’re you doing here in Hawkwood Hollow, then?” I asked. “Seeing the sights?”

  The bridge was conspicuously free of the spirits I usually saw hanging around there. I hoped that was because they’d seen the Reaper coming and gone into hiding and not because he’d banished them with that scythe of his.

  He grunted. “What’s it to you?”

  So much for pretending to be civil. I let my gaze drift to the curved weapon strapped to his back. He must have sensed my presence when I’d been in Death, so he knew perfectly well that I was a Reaper, but for whatever reason, he’d decided to wait for me to bring up the subject instead. Maybe he hoped I’d stumble and land myself in trouble with the council.

  “We don’t get many visitors of your particular profession,” I said to him, refusing to rise to the bait.

  “I can see that,” he said. “I assume you aren’t including yourself in that number.”

  I studied him. “Listen, mate, I don’t know what you’re doing here, but this is my home. I work at the inn. If you want to talk to the town’s Reaper, he lives on the other side of the river, in a cottage in the graveyard. Number 42, if you’re interested.”

  “Is that so?” He tilted his head. “Would he be able to offer me an explanation for the state of this town?”

  Not before he starts throwing things at you. Then again, from what I’d seen of this guy so far, I’d be more than happy to offer him up for old Harold to use as target practise in order to avoid dealing with him myself. The grumpy retired Reaper would be even less thrilled to see the newcomer than I was—and that was saying a lot.

  “Depends if you ask nicely,” I said. “Whereabouts are you staying? Not at the inn?”

  I’d know if he was a guest, and so would all the local ghosts, for that matter. He must have picked another place to stay.

  “You mean that hovel?” He eyed the building behind me. “No, I don’t think so. I like to stay in an unoccupied room without any damp or the dead.”

  “There is no damp,” I said, irked. “As for the dead, they’ll leave you alone if you do the same. Works for me.”

  He had some nerve insulting my place of work and Carey’s home, though it was probably for the best if he stayed as far as possible from the inn. I could just picture him striding from room to room with his scythe, banishing all the resident ghosts, and I hid a shudder at the mental image. The ghosts at the inn happened to include my brother. Strong as he was, he wasn’t immune to a Reaper’s scythe. It was bad enough that one of the ghosts in the area already seemed to have vanished, but I would never let this guy get anywhere near Mart if I could help it.

  “That would involve neglecting my duties,” he said. “It looks like you’re already well practised at doing that yourself.”

  I folded my arms. “I told you, I work at the inn. You don’t see a scythe, do you?”

  “No, but I see an attitude I don’t like,” he said. “You’re not a full Reaper. You’re half what, witch? Did your coven kick you out?”

  “No, I left of my own accord.” I’d had enough of his attitude, considering he didn’t even know me. “That is irrelevant, anyway. I’d like to know what you’re doing in town so I can decide whether you’re a threat to the residents or not.”

  Had he banished Lara’s ghost? There seemed no reason for him to get rid of one ghost and not all the others unless she’d done something to particularly annoy him. But I couldn’t say for sure, not when I didn’t know why he was here.

  “I don’t see why I have to explain myself to the likes of you,” he said. “If you’re not an active Reaper, then it’s none of your business.”

  “Excuse me?” I said. “If you’re here to make trouble for people in Hawkwood Hollow, living or dead, it certainly is my business. Are you threatening the ghosts?”

  Instead of answering, he turned around and walked away across the bridge without another word. I watched him go, disbelief flooding me. Was he seriously brushing me off? It seemed my memory had not exaggerated Reapers’ antisocial tendencies in the slightest. I debated running after him and demanding to know what in hell he was doing here, but I wouldn’t have put it past him to take a swing at me with his scythe. Whereabouts was he even staying, if not the inn?

  Reluctantly, I tugged my gaze away and walked back into the lobby, scanning the area for my brother. I was surprised he hadn’t followed to eavesdrop out of curiosity.

  “Mart,” I said aloud. “Did you see that guy?”

  He appeared in midair. “See who?”

  “Weren’t you paying any attention?” I said. “There’s a Reaper out there. Look at the guy on the bridge.”

  He floated out the inn’s doors, squinting at the retreating figure as he reached the other side of the bridge, then drifted back to me. “You’re right. He has the scythe and everything.”

  “Yeah, he does,” I said. “I don’t know what his deal is, but he’s not friendly. He’s also not staying at the inn, so he must have friends in the area.”

  He blanched. “Why didn’t you kick him out of town?”

  “I don’t have the authority to do that,” I said. “It’s old Harold’s job to deal with the other Reapers, whether they’re Council members or not.”

  Though given his lack of attention to his other duties, I doubted he’d take it upon himself to do anything to the newcomer other than ignore him like he did the rest of us. While it might have been a laugh to see the two of them go head to head, I doubted Shelton was actually on his way to see the retired Reaper. Whatever he was up to, though, I didn’t trust him in the slightest.

  “Since when did old Harold give a crap?” said Mart. “He doesn’t see himself as a Reaper at all.”

  “I know. He doesn’t care.” Not since his apprentice had perished in the floods, anyway. While that had worked in my favour when it came to him keeping my presence in town hidden from the Reaper’s Council—not to mention the fact that I’d bound my brother’s ghost to myself in defiance of half their guidelines—the stranger was within his rights to give him a tongue-lashing for neglecting his duties. If Shelton threw the rulebook at old Harold, it’d be entertaining, but if he returned with the Reaper Council at his back, I’d be their next target. And if he had them step in and take over the Reaper’s duties, it would cause major upheavals for the entire town. Especially the dead.

  “Want me to haunt him?” said Mart. “I can drive him off, no problem.”

  “Definitely not,” I said. “I won’t risk him using that scythe on you.”

  “I’ll follow him, then,” said Mart. “See if I can find out what he’s doing here. Or where he’s staying.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “If he catches you, you know what he’ll do.”

  “He won’t catch me,” he said. “I can hide among the other ghosts, no pro
blem. He can’t banish all of us at once.”

  “He might try.” Mart was stealthier than I was, though, for obvious reasons. Reapers could sense the dead, but if my attempts to find Lara’s ghost had proven anything, it was that a high number of ghosts made it hard to pinpoint a specific one. That would be advantageous when it came to tailing our Reaper friend.

  “I don’t want another Reaper hanging around being annoying,” he said. “That honour goes to you.”

  “You say the sweetest things.” I rolled my eyes at him. “Just be careful not to get caught.”

  If Mart ended up being banished, even my Reaper skills wouldn’t be able to get him back. Following Shelton was risky, no mistake. Lara’s ghost had already vanished. Might her disappearance be connected to the new Reaper’s mysterious visit to town? I doubted old Harold cared about one ghost’s absence either way, and I had an inkling even this wouldn’t be enough to stir him into action, but I still wondered.

  Whatever Shelton the Reaper was doing in town, I was willing to bet he hadn’t come for a simple holiday. He was up to something, and I intended to find out what.

  3

  While Mart followed the Reaper’s retreating back, I spotted Eric’s ghost hiding in the corner of the inn’s lobby. I approached him, and he lifted his head, watching me with fearful eyes. “Is the Reaper gone?”

  “That new Reaper,” I said to him. “Have you seen him before?”

  “No,” he said. “No, but I sensed him. At first, I thought it was you, but he—he has that… that weapon.”

  “Do you think his appearance might be linked to Lara going missing?” I asked.

  “I hope not.” His voice quietened. “I really hope not. What if he’s here to banish us one at a time?”

  “Didn’t look that way to me. Besides, that’s not how it usually works.” I tried for a reassuring tone, but my own mistrust of the newcomer seeped through. “My brother is tailing him to see what he’s doing here. I can have a word with old Harold, too, and make sure he knows there’s a new Reaper in town. But if you think he might be linked to Lara’s disappearance… I need to know so I can confront him about it before he has the chance to strike again.”