What was more? We were growing; we had a new member. The circle was expanding, and I couldn’t wait to see where it would go next.

  My people were here and safe. Everyone was alright. The worst hadn’t come to pass. And if I had any say in the matter, it never would again. We’d keep growing, expanding, until Scapegrace Coven was a force to be reckoned with, powerful enough that people would think twice before coming at us again.

  Cool fingers brushed my shoulder, left bare by the wine dark silk dress I’d worn for the ceremony. I leaned my head back against Lorcan’s chest as he slid his arms around my waist, swaying slightly with the music.

  “You owe me a dance, Sweetling,” he breathed against the side of my neck.

  Goosebumps shivered over my skin with each word, warmth pooling in my belly. It had been too long since we’d been physical, and I’d missed him. But it wouldn’t do to let him know it, so I smirked instead. “Do I?”

  He growled, nipping lightly at my earlobe. “And a fair bit more than that, I think. I’m starting to feel a bit neglected over here.”

  “Poor baby,” I crooned as I turned in his arms, sliding my hands up his chest to loop them over the back of his neck. “However can I make it up to you?”

  Lorcan grinned, his green eyes shining down on me. “Oh, I have a few ideas. But they’ll have to wait until the kiddies go to bed. Unless, of course, you might be convinced to slip away somewhere a bit more private.”

  I hummed, like I was considering it. Like fire hadn’t started licking over my nerves with every pass of his hand over my back, my waist. “Maybe. But you’ll have to do something for me, too.”

  “I faced down a mad fae-vampire for you, and I have to do more?” He rolled his eyes with mock-exasperation. “You are one hard woman to impress.”

  I bit down on my lip to keep from smiling. “Well, yes, but what have you done for me lately?”

  Lorcan bent to brush his lips over the shell of my ear, and I valiantly repressed a shiver.

  “Come away with me, and I’ll show you,” he whispered, his tone coaxing.

  I heaved a sigh, sounding very put upon. “I suppose. But.” I held up a finger. “You need to come ice skating with me later in the week. Taliyah and Maverick are taking Sybil and the boys before it gets warm, and I’ve been informed that Sybil wants us both there.”

  “She said that?” Lorcan looked oddly pleased.

  I tilted my nose up with a sniff. “Well, if you’d rather stay here, then we can just–”

  Lorcan had me scooped up in his arms and was racing for home before my laughter had a chance to echo back to the party.

  The End

  Return to Haven Hollow in:

  Dead Ringer

  ~~~~~

  Return to the Table of Contents

  DEAD RINGER

  Haven Hollow #30

  (Spook Society)

  by

  J.R. RAIN

  &

  H.P. MALLORY

  Dead Ringer

  Published by Rain Press

  Copyright © 2023 by J.R. Rain & H.P. Mallory

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dead Ringer

  Chapter One

  Faint music swirled through the air, something with a fast tempo and a driving beat that had my toes tapping, just itching to get out on the dance floor and cut a rug.

  Of all the things I missed most about my youth, dancing was at the top of the list. People just didn’t do things the same way anymore. A night out, sure they might dance, have a couple drinks, but it just wasn’t the same.

  Folks today, they just didn’t know what it was like, to go to a club and have the band start up and light a fire right in your veins. To drink giggle water and jitterbug until your heart was pounding and your head was dizzy and you felt so alive all you could do was throw your head back and laugh.

  I still felt that way sometimes... I mean, every day I was breathing was a delightful shock, a gift I still couldn’t believe was mine.

  I shook the feelings off, trying to close my ears to the siren call of the ballroom. I was here for a reason, and that reason wasn’t to dance. Truth was, I couldn’t afford to lose days slinking off to party.

  The heels of my shoes clicked sharply against the black and white tiles of the hotel lobby, sounding a whole lot more authoritative than I felt. Even looking around at the ritzy place made me feel like I was doing something wrong just by being here. With the gorgeous art déco style, the lobby counter looking like it was made out of asymmetric pieces of silver, and the art hanging on the walls. And that art was something to behold, all black and white but each image holding a pop of red within their frames like a secret. Well, the whole place was a class act all the way.

  It was also full of ghosts.

  A girl in a poodle skirt and Mary Janes flipped her ponytail with a laugh as she strolled by on the arm of a greaser in a leather jacket. Meanwhile, over on the white sofa beside the pool table, three women in long, high-waisted dresses sat in a way people did back when under garments had honest to goodness bone in them. They were sharing tea, lifting their pinkies like real high-class dames. At the pool table itself, a couple of guys (one in overalls and one in a severe black set of clothes and shoes with little buckles on them) made with the chit-chat while racking them up.

  It was an eclectic clientele at the hotel, that was for ding-dang sure.

  But then, the hotel itself wasn’t exactly normal, if you catch my drift. A place like that, with the ballroom, the lounge, the restaurant, the old-fashioned elevator with an attendant and the golden cage that needed to be opened and closed for every trip, not to mention the infinite number of rooms, well, it just wasn’t the kind of place you’d expect to find in Haven Hollow.

  Not that there was anything wrong with Haven Hollow. It was a swell town, really the cat’s meow. But the Hotel would have made jaws drop even back in Hollywood. It was the kind of spot where you’d show up just to be seen.

  Then again, when Death himself comes to town, you can’t expect him to do things in half measures.

  That’s right; the hotel was made by Death. He’d blown into town a few months back and set the place up as a kind of roach motel for the not-so-dearly-departed. Ghosts could check in, but they sure didn’t check out. And he’d styled the whole joint to try and impress little-old-me, which was enough to give a girl a swelled head.

  Death, or ‘Damon’, as I’d taken to calling him (because actually talking to Death was enough to give me the jitters) well, he wasn’t technically Death, the Grim Reaper. Instead, Damon was an aspect of Death sent to collect souls that didn’t want to fully shuffle on in this part of the world. And, believe it or not, Damon had taken a shine to me, and said he’d never met anyone like me before, and that I could believe.

  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’m the Queen of Sheba or anything. It’s just that my life has been a bit of a wild one.

  It’s your classic tale; girl moves to Hollywood to become a big star, girl meets boy, girl starts going to all the right parties, and meets the right people, boy becomes a jealous mook and kills her in a rage before turning the gun on himself.

  And it should have ended there, really. Taken out in my prime by that no account bum Frank, before I’d ever gotten the chance to be the next Lillian Gish or Mary Pickford. But it had all been so sudden, I hadn’t even known what was happening. So, I’d just sort of… stayed around.

  Unfortunately, Frank did the same. And if I’d thought his temper was bad when he was alive, jeepers, being dead made him ten times worse. So, I’d spent the next century stuck in the house watching Frank terrorize family after family, and not being able to do a darn thing about it.

  But then, a stand-up dame named Poppy had moved into the house in Silverlake with her son, Finn. And see, Poppy? She wasn’t no dumb Dora. She cottoned on to what Frank was doing to her son, and she gave that no-account poltergeist his walking papers. Poppy came from a long line of Gypsy Travellers, and she wasn’t about to let some ghost terrorize her family, no siree.

  When she’d left, well, I hadn’t really had anything to stick around for, and I’d been cooped up in that house with Frank for two lifetimes, so I hitched a ride and followed her to Haven Hollow. And the other truth was that of all the folks who had made that home their own? Well, Poppy and Finn were my favorite. So it was right natural that I’d decide to come along for the ride.

  If I’d thought ghosts and potion-slinging Gypsies were something, the Hollow knocked me right on my backside. There were dozens of supernaturals all living together in peace, not having to hide so hard. The Morton family settled in, and through Poppy I met loads of other people, folks who could see me, hear me, folks who became my friends. It was more than I’d ever thought I could have again.

  And then I’d managed to irritate Poppy’s witch BFF Wanda, who’d thrown a blood bolt at me, not thinking about how her magic, which had been touched by death, might affect a ghost.

  Well, bingo bango, the next thing we all knew, I was alive again, with a body and everything. Only, I’m not supposed to talk about it, because apparently it might get Wanda in some sort of trouble, and seeing as how she did me a real solid by making me a real live girl again, that’s the last thing I want.

  All I was saying was, having a ghost girl up and walking around with a pulse again, I could see that as not being something even Death himself had seen before. So, really, no wonder he was so giddy on me—I’m sure it wasn’t every day that Death had him a surprise.

  After Damon blew into town, I’d noticed ghosts started disappearing. Not moving on, just, poof, vanishing. Turned out, he’d been luring them to the hotel pied piper style, and once he had all the ghosts checked in, he was gonna blow this popsicle stand. But I’d challenged him to a game, winner take all, and somehow, I’d managed to beat Death with a hand of poker.

  As a result, the hotel stayed in Haven Hollow, and stayed open, so all the spectral citizens of the town could come and go as they pleased. Somehow, even the ghosts that should have been bound to their haunts could find their way to the hotel, and visit with each other.

  Damon couldn’t stick around, though. He was a busy guy, after all. So, while he promised to check in when he could, the unofficial running of the joint fell to yours truly.

  To be honest though, the place pretty much looked after itself. I just felt like I should keep an eye on it, make sure that nothing got too outta hand.

  “How’s it hanging, Charlie?” I asked as I made my way to the reception desk.

  Charlie, of no last name that he could remember anymore, was a middle-aged ghost in a white dress shirt, dark slacks, and a vest. He had things holding his sleeves back that looked almost like a lady’s garter, like something a bartender in an old western would wear. His dark hair was parted down the center in an aggressive line, and he had a mustache you could have opened a door with.

  “All right, Miss Darla.” Charlie’s mustache bristled up like a walrus when he smiled. And he had him a funny accent—like what you’d hear on a Western. “Everything’s been pretty quiet lately, after the last book club brawl.”

  That was the way with ghosts. Everything would be fine, and then something would set them off and when that happened? Watch out. Let’s just say that the book club was very passionate about what they thought made a good book and a bad one.

  “Good, good. Glad to hear it.” My toes were tapping again, my feet just itching to make my way to the ballroom, because there was usually someone in there dancing. Ghosts didn’t care about things like time, much.

  “Focus, Darla,” the grumpy copper in the back of my head grumbled at me.

  I rolled my eyes. “Ah, you’re all wet. What’s an hour?”

  Inside the hotel, it was easier for my ghost passenger to materialize. Cain Morgan, the late Chief of Police of Haven Hollow, looked darn close to solid when he popped into existence, standing at my elbow.

  Even though I carted Cain around as part of my job as a medium, I didn’t actually get to see him. It was easy to forget that he was tall, stacked, with broad shoulders and the prettiest blue eyes I’d ever seen on a man. But when he was just the nagging voice in my head, complaining any time I had any fun? Well, then it was easy to forget who he really was. But seeing him right there, in the–well, not flesh, exactly. Let’s just say it was something to take in. The uniform that he’d died in, it did good things for his arms.

  Suddenly aware I was staring at him, I started twisting the ring on my finger around. It was Cain’s ring. And it had been provided to me for the summoning I’d been hired to do. Now, he was bound to it for a year to give his sister, Taliyah, a chance to deal with taking over as Chief of Police.

  Honestly, Cain wasn’t bad company. And after spending a century trapped in a house with only scared families and the palooka who’d killed me, I didn’t hate having a constant companion. Even if he was a complete blue stocking.

  I tried to turn back to Charlie, to dodge the lecture I could see in the harsh lines of Cain’s face, but Charlie had scurried away to pretend he was busy at the other end of the counter. The traitor.

  Cain crossed his arms. “Because it won’t just be an hour. You know what this place is like. You’ll get caught up.”

  He was right, but I didn’t have to admit it. The ballroom was a—what had Wanda called it? A liminal space, that was it, yeah. There was no way to tell time here, and none of the dancers or musicians ever got tired, or needed a drink or a break, so the days could just slip on by without you ever realizing it. I wasn’t sure why it was called ‘liminal’ ‘cause I didn’t even know the meaning of that word. You ask me and I would have said it would be better calling it a ‘time suck space’ or something to that effect.

  “Fine.” I heaved a sigh. Everything was in order. There wasn’t anything to take care of, so there wasn’t any excuse to stay.

  The hotel might have started as a trap, but it really felt good to be there. Peaceful like. Tension just melted off me once I hit the doors. Damon had said he’d styled it just for me, but knowing it was a trap didn’t make the bait one bit less tempting.

  I’d really hoped that some of that magic would seep into Cain. It had been a while since there had been a case that he was needed to consult on, and it was making him more of a grump than usual. A restless Cain wasn’t a happy Cain. I’d thought my bi-weekly trip to the hotel might do the double duty of taking a bit of the starch out of my ghost ride along.

  Apparently, nothing doing. Cain looked more alert than ever.

  I wasn’t pouting. Dames my age didn’t pout.

  “Let’s head out then.” I twisted the strap of my purse over my shoulder, making sure to sweep my hair out of the way. It was finally growing out of the chin length bob I’d been stuck with for a hundred years, and I was enjoying the swing of it. “I’ve still got laundry and dinner to prep for.”

  I sounded like some kind of homemaker. My old roommate, Libby, a zombie from the fifties, would have been so proud. When she wasn’t calling me a slattern for having a bit of the hooch.

  I’d just turned to wave to Charlie, when my phone rang.

  Not a lot of people called me, but that wasn’t what was surprising. Phones were only hit and miss inside the hotel, and most of the time, you couldn’t get you any kind of reception, on account of the place being not fully there.

  I shrugged and fished the phone out of my purse, glancing at the caller ID. My heart sank.

  Blaise Howard, it read.

  .

  .Chapter Two

  Mr. Howard was the big cheese at Spook Society, where I worked as a medium.

  As it turned out, being a ghost for a century made you real sensitive to their energies and gave you a strong tie to the other side. It was why I’d been picked to host Cain, since most other mediums couldn’t have housed a ghost for any length of time, not without maybe dying themselves. It was the same reason Mr. Howard had hired me—because of my abilities (well, one of the reasons). And I did good business—helped a lot of folks with their loved ones and encouraged spirits to pass on.

  Only problem was, Mr. Howard did not like me.

  And I wasn’t exactly sure why. I mean, I thought I was a likeable enough gal. But guess you can’t please ‘em all.

  As to Mr. Howard—he used to work with the head of the Hunter’s Guild of America, and he’d only hired me in the first place to make sure I wasn’t up to no good. Somehow, he knew that I’d been dead and come back to life again, though only a handful of people were supposed to know that, and far as I knew, no one had been flapping their gums. But Mr. Howard knew, and he trusted me about as far as I coulda thrown Cain when he was alive.

  So, him calling me on the afternoon of my day off? It wasn’t a good sign.

  I dithered around until the call was just about to switch over to voice mail, and then answered while I was making for the door. I might not want to talk to him, but I wanted the hotel’s dead zone cutting out on him even less.

  “Hey, Mister Howard,” I said. My voice sounded thin and a little shaky, even to me. “What can I do for you?”

  Blaise Howard had a voice that rolled like thunder, deep and growling in his chest, promising to rain down destruction at any second. “We have a client coming in,” he said. “They’ve requested you specifically.”

  I blinked. That was definitely not what I’d expected. “Oh. Alright. I can put them on the books.”

  “They’re coming in now. They’ll be here within half an hour.”

  My steps stuttered, my heels clicking against the pavement outside. “It’s my day off.”

  “I’m aware, Miss Rowe. But they say the situation is most urgent. Are you able to do this, or should I call in Bailey?”