Well, do us both a favor and try to avoid listening in on my most private thoughts, nosy!

  I absolutely would if I could, but as of yet, I’m not sure how to shut out your constant ridiculous inner monologue of useless tripe. Pause. If you want to know what’s going on in Henner’s equally daft mind, why don’t you bloody well ask him?

  The only thing that kept me from sputtering was how goofy I’d look to Henner if I started yelling at myself. I wanted to snap back that Cain didn’t know what he was talking about, that he didn’t know me, but something stilled the thought. He’d been living with me, living in my head at times, for weeks now. The thought that he might actually be right was even more galling than him saying it at all.

  That was what finally drove me to gently tug Henner to a stop by our joined hands. I’d been avoiding this conversation for weeks, and it felt like my heart was trying to do a barn swallow out my throat, but I wasn’t about to let Cain Morgan be the emotionally mature one between the two of us.

  Henner gave me a questioning look while I took a breath and tried to organize my thoughts.

  “You know I think you’re real swell,” was what I went with.

  A grin flashed over Henner’s face. His voice was real quiet when he said, “Yes,” but the grin on his kisser reached all the way up to his peepers. “And you must know I like you just as much?”

  Irritation went knuckle to knuckle with excitement in my stomach, and I fought to keep the nervousness outta my voice when I asked, “So, how come you’ve been holding off in telling me you’re stuck on me?”

  Henner didn’t look put-out by the question. His smile turned into something fond and sweet, his thumb stroking over the back of my hand.

  “I didn’t want to pressure you,” he said, one shoulder rising in a little shrug.

  “Pressure me?” I didn’t mean for my voice to sound all affronted like but what was he thinking? No dame wanted a fella to take his time. She wanted to know right away that he wanted her to be his main squeeze. Sometimes fellas were just about as jingle-brained as a scarecrow with all that straw between his ears.

  Henner nodded. “Darla, you just came back to life after being a ghost for a century, and I’m the first guy you’ve… well, seemed to be interested in since then.”

  “Seemed to be?”

  He gave me an apologetic smile and a quick nod. “The whole world just opened up for you, and I thought you’d like a chance to figure out what and who you wanted. You know, to get your fill of what twenty-first-century men are all about.” The curve of his kisser turned his expression to something wistful.

  “So far, I’m thinking twenty-first-century fellas are just a bunch of stallers!”

  That made him chuckle. “I just, didn’t want to ask you to commit too early. You don’t have to settle for the first guy you meet.”

  I stared at him for a second, too choked for words, and then I stared at him for a second more. My ribs felt brittle, like my ticker might swell up so big, it could just burst free of my chest.

  Before I started to cry, or squeal or something that would incite the same wrath in Cain Morgan, I leaned forward, slow enough that Henner could step back if he wanted to, and gave him a kiss. It was gentle, just a brush of my mouth over his, but my peepers fluttered shut at the sweetness of it.

  Stop it, Darla! Stop it this instant! Cain yelled from inside my head. I’ve never kissed a man before and I have no interest in starting now!

  But I just ignored him.

  “Just so we’re clear,” I whispered into the warmth between Henner and me. “I’m not ‘settling’ for anything. You’re an incredible fella, Henner Tayir. You’re kind, and you’re sweet, and smart, and let’s face it, you’ve got great taste.”

  He laughed at that, just a little huff of warm air.

  “I’ve never met anyone like you, not in over a hundred years.” It felt like a confession, like a secret just between the two of us. “I think… well, I think you’re just the goat’s whiskers!”

  “The goat’s whiskers?” he responded with a laugh.

  I nodded and laughed along with him. “I think you’re just swell. And this goes to prove it.”

  I wanted to lean forward, to press our mouths together into a proper kiss. From the look in his dark eyes, so close to me, Henner wanted the same thing.

  Then the ghostly peanut gallery in the back of my head started up again.

  DARLA!!! STOP THIS AT ONCE!

  For a guy with no current access to a body, Cain did an admirable impression of gagging.

  I thought back at him as clearly as I could. Mind your own business!

  I can’t mind my own business when your business is currently minding Henner’s throat!

  That just made me kiss Henner even more. It was getting easier to tune out Cain’s grumbling the longer we were stuck together, and quite frankly, the warmth of Henner’s mouth against mine, the little tingles along my spine, were a more than adequate distraction.

  PLEASE, DARLA! For the love of Pete, please stop subjecting me to this!

  And just like that, the mood was destroyed. I tried not to wince as I pulled back from Henner and smiled wide enough to put the dimple in my cheek to good use.

  “I’ll write you a check,” I told him, squeezing his hands.

  Henner’s brow wrinkled up in confusion.

  Right. “Let’s pick this up later,” I clarified for him. The little turns of phrase, the slang from my youth, not many people picked up on them—usually I had to translate for most people. Henner was better than most, but there were still a few things that threw him.

  He smiled at me and offered his elbow like a real gent to walk me to the car.

  “Later, then.”

  Chapter Five

  Thirty-seven Dunner Street was an older house close to what counted as ‘downtown’ in Haven Hollow.

  A three-story Victorian, it stood out among the more modern houses that filled the neighborhood. It was painted a sunny yellow with white gingerbread trim and shutters, contrasting real nice with the slate gray roof. Someone had clearly put a lotta love and effort into the gardens, because either side of the steps leading up to the front door were filled with rows of flowers all staged by height. Sunflowers in the back closest to the house, azaleas next with their little pop of pinky-purple, and something close to the ground with flowers shaped like little white stars in the front.

  The front walk was shaded by a huge apple tree that was probably planted back when the house was built. Its gnarled limbs were as tall as the house, and would soon be heavy with fruit.

  As Henner and I—and a still sulking Cain—made our way up the walkway, I tried to get a read on the house. Normally, I could get a hint as to what the situation was from as much as a couple blocks away, but the Dunner Street house wasn’t talking. Nope, it wasn’t saying so much as one word. Most spooks couldn’t exactly hide from me, so not being able to sense anything meant that either there was something hinky going on with the house itself that was blocking me, or something had happened to the ghosties that lived here.

  Or maybe the house had never been haunted in the first place and Marty and the boys had just been mistaken? That happened, sometimes. Old floors settled and creaked, doors warped and swung open on their own. Squirrels or racoons in the attic could sound like an infestation of demons, and people jumped to the conclusion of spirits.

  If it had just been Marty and RJ in question, I might have entertained that option a bit more. But Henner had mojo of his own. If he or his gadgets said something was off about this place, then I was going to take them seriously. And not just because I was sweet on him.

  The door opened only a few seconds after Henner’s knock. Clearly, we were expected.

  A woman who was probably in her forties peered at me curiously. She was pretty, her blonde hair just starting to thread with gray. She was dressed in jeans and a plum-colored camisole with a matching pullover. There were faint smudges underneath her peepers, like she’d been sleepless or ill for a while, but was just starting to recover. Her smile grew more genuine when her eyes fell on Henner beside me.

  “Oh, hi, Henner. Is this the friend you mentioned?”

  It was a struggle to keep my smile professionally friendly and not ruffle up like an angry cat. ‘Friend’ my behind! We were all but officially sweethearts, thank you very much.

  “Hello, Mrs. Rose,” Henner answered real official like. “Yes, this is Darla Rowe. Is it still alright if we take a look around the house?”

  “Sure.” Mrs. Rose stepped outta the way, gesturing for us to come inside. “My husband had to go to work today, and the kids are watching cartoons in the family room, so no one should get in your way.”

  I was real happy to hear she had herself a fella so she wasn’t gonna try to steal mine. I even gave her an awkward little wave as I stepped into the house’s foyer. As soon as my foot touched down, I had to fight back the urge to whistle, because gee-whiz, the house sure was pretty. It had what looked to be the original hardwood planked floors, which felt cold now (in Autumn) so I couldn’t even imagine what they were like in the winter time. There was crown molding running the perimeter of the ceilings, molding around each of the light fixtures and around all the doors and windows. Everything was tastefully decorated, if a little homier than my preferred burnished chrome and black lacquer preferences, but I had to admit it suited the house’s style.

  “You have a lovely home,” I told Mrs. Rose, as I let my magical mojo loose to see if I could get a better feel for the house from the inside.

  The second I reached out, I almost doubled over, bile burning at the back of my throat.

  There was something very, very wrong with this place.

  Henner was right. There had been a ghostie in this house. An old one. A dame from the feel of it. Sad. I could feel the tendrils of her loss, of her longing that bound her to this house, this place, for so many years after her death. Those little whisps of memory brushed against my skin like the trailing ribbons of her favorite nightgown.

  There had been a spook, yes, but there was no spook now. No presence in the house that wasn’t alive. There was only a void, a black hole, where everything that had made up a person, all her joys and fear and sorrow and grief had just imploded and left a black hole. And that was the part of this investigation that struck me. Because how could a spook just disappear? It wasn’t like she moved on to the great beyond—she hadn’t gone towards the light. When that happened, a space felt different—it felt lighter, the energy was happier. This didn’t feel happy at all—this felt heavy, dark and weighty.

  So, just what in tarnation had happened? Last I checked, ghosties couldn’t just collapse in on themselves. They couldn’t die—cause they were already dead! All they could do was get kicked outta this energy frequency, like a radio set with the wrong receiver.

  A high-pitched whine started to build in my ears. And then a second later, there was this terrible pressure on my chest, like someone was piling stones on top of me, pressing me down, crushing me. My breath started to come in great heaving gasps, but I still couldn’t get any air.

  Darla! Cain called out from deep inside me. What’s going on?

  But I couldn’t answer him. I couldn’t even think. As if from the other side of a thick wall, I heard Henner’s voice. “Darla? Darla!”

  I looked over at him but started to see stars where his face shoulda been.

  “Darla, you’ve gotta breathe!” he called out. “You’re hyperventilating!”

  “What’s happening to her?” Mrs. Rose said, looking troubled as she faced me.

  And just like that, that heavy feeling caught the next train outta town and I could breathe again. I inhaled real deep and tried to calm my beating heart which was hopping around like a bunny on Easter Sunday.

  What the hell was that? Cain demanded and his voice sounded winded too. Clearly, whatever had affected me had also affected him. And what the hell could have done that? Cain’s voice, normally a reassurance or an annoyance in equal measure, was off. He was trying to hide it, but the feel of that horrible gaping nothingness had shaken him, too. I was right sure of it.

  I don’t know, I answered, and it was the god’s honest truth. But it felt like… like something was calling me.

  It felt like something was trying to yank me right out of you.

  I nodded because that was a good description—it felt like someone was trying to hoover my soul right outta me, Cain apparently too. And if there was one thing that scared the bejeezus outta me, it was the damned hoover!

  Could whatever it is still be in the house? Cain asked and I ain’t never heard him sound frightened before but he sure sounded it now.

  But back to his question about whether or not something was in the house? Holy smokes, I hoped not, because I couldn’t help but wonder if whatever had done something to the dame ghostie who used to reside in this house could do the same to Cain if it got a chance. Could it just snuff him out like a candle flame? If that hoovering sensation was anything to go on, I’d say the answer was yes.

  “Darla?” Henner said, pulling my attention as he placed a hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  I hadn’t realized how cold I was until Henner gripped my arms. His hands were so hot, part of me was surprised there wasn’t any steam when he touched me. I nodded even though I wasn’t sure if I was okay. Meanwhile, he helped me over to the bench that sat in the foyer and then he helped me sit down at the exact moment that my knees gave out.

  Darla, what’s wrong with you? Cain demanded.

  I… I don’t know. I feel like I just ran a marathon though.

  Being a spook was the pits. I’d spent a hundred years stuck in a house with the bum who murdered me, experiencing the passing of time only through the tele and the families that lived there. When Wanda brought me back to life, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Why? Because I was free again! I could go out on my own, I could eat food and have a gin Rickey, walk on the beach and feel the sun on my skin. I could touch and be touched—now don’t misunderstand me about that touching bit ‘cause I ain’t no trollop! Point being—living was definitely better than dying or being dead.

  As happy as I was to banish all those memories to the overstuffed storage closet in my thinker, that didn’t mean my heart didn’t go out to the ghosties who were still trapped. Still stuck, pressed up against the window of life, peering in at what they’d never have again. They had no way to protect themselves from something like this. They couldn’t even run, pinned in place by regrets and resentment.

  And just like that, my ticker started racing again, and I started getting winded all over, like my gams were running away with me and there wasn’t nothing I could do to stop them.

  Henner pressed my hand to his chest. “Darla, try to match my breathing okay? Slow down, inhale deeper.”

  I had to rip myself away from the spiral of my thoughts, focusing on Henner’s concerned face. It didn’t help that Cain’s anxiety was ricocheting off my own, until I was darn near vibrating like a tuning fork.

  It was easier to slow my breathing by matching Henner’s—maybe ‘cause it gave me something to focus on. I took a little too long to exhale, and my next breath came in a desperate gasp, but Henner didn’t get frustrated.

  “Good. That’s good. You’re doing great. Just breathe with me.”

  Finally, I managed to take a proper breath, and to slow the gallop of my pulse. The focusing on Henner also helped to calm the tornado of thoughts tearing through my thinker. Getting my body back under control seemed to help Cain as much as it helped me, which made sense since we were basically sharing it.

  Henner smiled, but his peepers were still worried. “You back with me, Darla?”

  He squeezed me hand, but the worry didn’t go away, so I probably didn’t do a very convincing job when I smiled at him and nodded like everything was just aces.

  Mrs. Rose hovered anxiously in the hallway a few feet from us, a glass of water clutched in her hands like she’d forgotten she was holding it.

  She startled bad when Henner reached out a hand and asked, “May I?”

  “Oh! Of course, sorry.” She handed the glass over, and Henner helped me raise it to my kisser, since my hands were trembling hard enough that I was worried I’d spill it, or drop it entirely.

  “That’s it. Drink it slowly.”

  After a few sips, my mouth didn’t feel like I was eating sand no more, and it soothed the burning in my throat. My voice was still pretty rough when I croaked out, “Marty was right.”

  Henner took the glass back when I guzzled down all the water, setting it on the floor beside him with a gentle click. It was only then that I realized that he was kneeling in front of me, looking up at me. Blood rushed into my cheeks. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen apart like that in front of him, and he was still kneeling at my feet and looking at me like I was the Queen of Sheba.

  “Right about what?” he asked.

  I swallowed again, trying to clear the last of the grit outta my voice. “Something is getting rid of our ghosts.”

  “Like killing them?”

  I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if ‘killing’ was the right word.

  Henner looked right perplexed by that and his brows puckered together. “Ghosts are already dead though. How could something kill one? Banish, sure. But kill?”

  I shook my head, the dark bob of my hair sliding over my cheeks. “I don’t know how. Heck, I don’t even know why. But it’s still true, Henner. There’s nothing left here. Just a… a void where a spook shoulda been. Like something crunched her down into nothingness.”

  Even just saying it had my pulse pounding again. I had to breathe in and out carefully a few times before I could continue. “I wanna see the other houses on the list.”

  Henner opened his mouth, and I could tell he was gonna object. To tell me to stay away, to stay safe. I held up my hand to say he could tell it to Sweeney but then thought better of it—Henner was only trying to help.

  “I could be wrong,” I started, finding it hard to talk because my pipes were still hurting something fierce from when I couldn’t breathe a little bit earlier. “I don’t think I am, but I need to see the other houses to be sure. And I need to be sure, Henner. Because if I’m right about this? Oh, boy, then that means something very, very dangerous has come to Haven Hollow.”