“No, I already took a headache draught and I’m just waiting for it to kick in.” I sat up, shaking my head in irritation because the pain still hadn’t gone away and now I was getting frustrated. The draught should have worked by now, especially given how much I’d taken. “No gin.”

  “I have some vodka,” Wanda continued.

  I looked up at her and shook my head again. “No gin… no bourbon… no rum… and no vodka.”

  She looked away and huffed. “Wow, you really are in a bad way.”

  “About this dinner date—”

  “You’re going to try to get out of it, aren’t you?”

  “I’m hardly in any shape to go,” I pointed out.

  “Right, which is going to leave me with the two of them and… thanks, but no thanks.”

  “Maybe Lorcan will go with you.”

  She frowned. “And that’s supposed to make the situation better?”

  “Yes?”

  She flung herself into an armchair, propped her feet on the coffee table, picked up a magazine, and started flipping through the pages like she’d suddenly forgotten I was there. “Is that what you’re wearing tonight?”

  “I’m not going tonight.”

  She looked up from the magazine. “You have to go.”

  “I have a really bad headache, Wanda, need I remind you?”

  She tossed her magazine aside, set her feet on the floor, and leaned forward. Resting her elbows on her knees, she faced me and closing her eyes, held up her hands, angling them in my direction. I could see an ethereal ball of light that suddenly popped up between her palms.

  “Your ache is gone, you’re now pain free, such is my will, so mote it be!”

  I blinked, but the ache was still there. “Didn’t work.”

  “Oh, bother,” she grumbled as she stood all the way up and walked over to me with a shrug. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to get up.”

  “Your laziness knows no bounds.”

  She frowned at that and, holding up her hands so they were centimeters from my face, she repeated the spell.

  “So?” she asked, looking at me.

  I waited a second or so before answering. “I think you moted it be.”

  Nodding, she returned to the armchair, throwing herself into it with another sigh. Wanda could be dramatic and then some.

  “I have a question to ask you, Poppy.”

  “Fire away.”

  As if the chair had just poked her with a red-hot stick, she launched to her feet and stormed across the living room, before turning around and pacing back towards me. Then she paced to the other side and repeated. All the while, her eyes were narrowed, and she worried her lower lip, tapping her fingers against her chin. Finally, after having finished her lap in my direction, she paused in front of me.

  “Don’t you think it’s odd about Henner inviting us to dinner?”

  I frowned. “Um what?”

  “Think about it—he wants to clear a basement full of heavy and big furniture, so he asked two waifs like you and me.”

  “Well, he also asked Marty.”

  She nodded. “Right. A human. And us—instead of asking Roy, Lorcan, or some other strapping male specimen who could sling a grand piano over his shoulders without batting an eyelash? I don’t think so.” She took a breath. “Also, notice who Henner didn’t invite.”

  “RJ.”

  She nodded. “Exactly… and why do you suppose that is?”

  “Because RJ isn’t up on all the supernatural goings on in Haven Hollow?”

  She nodded again.

  “So, what are you saying?” I asked.

  “I’m saying the invitation to dinner is a smokescreen.”

  “What would it be a smokescreen for?”

  “Maybe Henner just wants you both to know it’s his birthday soon?” Finn asked with a shrug.

  “I already knew it was his birthday,” I answered.

  Wanda threw herself back into the armchair again. “Oh, no more about birthdays!” Then she took a breath. “When I asked Henner about it, he said he wanted you and me there… just in case.”

  “Just in case of what?”

  She nodded. “When I asked that exact question, he changed the subject.”

  I laughed as I shook my head. Wanda and her paranoia could be completely ridiculous sometimes. “Are you sure you aren’t reading a little too much into this? Maybe Henner asked us because he enjoys our company and he didn’t want to be alone with another strapping male specimen?”

  “I would hardly term Marty a ‘strapping male specimen,” she started as she narrowed her eyes at me.

  “Well, he’s handsome,” I answered on a shrug.

  “Regardless, Henner’s basement is no laughing matter.”

  I wiped the grin off my face in a hurry. “You’re right. Sorry.” Breathing in deeply, I realized she was still wearing that serious expression, which meant I’d have to play along if I wanted to retire this subject. “So… if Henner asking our help is a smokescreen… what would you like me to do about it?”

  “Nothing,” she answered with a shrug.

  “Nothing?”

  “Well, I mean, there’s really nothing to be done about it, but…”

  “But?”

  “Will you stop repeating everything I say, Poppy? You sound like a parrot.”

  I chose not to be offended.

  “Can you think of any reason Henner would want us there?” Wanda continued. “Some reason that has nothing to do with moving furniture?”

  “Not really. I thought the invitation was innocent enough when he first asked us.”

  “Innocent!” she guffawed. “That’s exactly what it isn’t.”

  Wanda was naturally suspicious of everyone—it was a trait born into her and thus, she couldn’t be faulted for it—it was just the way she was.

  “Well, we can’t exactly start suspecting Henner of dirty tricks. If he invited us, he must have a reason, right?”

  She frowned. “I mean… I guess so.”

  “Then… I’m sure we’ll soon find out what that reason is.”

  She hesitated again, studying me. The silence went on for long enough that I started to fidget and assumed there was something more to her visit than just Henner’s odd request. “Is there something else you wanted to talk about?”

  She snapped alert so fast, she startled me. “Actually, yes. I need your… help with something.”

  Chapter Two

  “You want my help with what?”

  “I want to do some research on a few people Betanya Tayir mentioned in her journals.”

  “You guys are talking too much,” Finn announced as he stood up and gave us both a grumpy expression. “Killing zombies takes concentration.”

  “Sorry, buddy,” I offered.

  Finn gave me a big smile. “I’m going to go play Nerf outside.”

  “You know,” Wanda started, eyebrows elevated. “I could magick his Nerf gun so it shoots actual—”

  “No, that’s alright,” I interrupted, shaking my head, so she understood in no uncertain terms that I had no interest in giving my twelve-year-old son a real weapon.

  But, back to the subject at hand, I frowned because research wasn’t the sort of help I imagined Wanda would be after. Last I checked, she knew what Google was. “Can’t you do that yourself? You know how to work the internet.”

  “I already checked the internet and I couldn’t find the information I’m looking for,” she answered, appearing put out. “Really, Poppy, don’t you think I would’ve already done the obvious before asking you?”

  I shrugged. “With you, I never know.”

  She cleared her throat, giving me that raised brow expression that said she wasn’t amused. “Anyway…”

  “If these people you’re interested in can’t be found on the internet, I’m not sure why you think I’d be able to find them,” I continued with a shrug. In general, I liked being helpful, but in this case, I wasn’t sure what I could do. “Google.com is more helpful than poppy.com.”

  She shrugged. “I’m thinking you’d be better at searching than I would.” Then she cocked another elevated brow my way, this time paired with a smirk. “Poppy.com was cute, by the way.”

  “Thanks… but I’m sure whatever I can do, you can do?” I didn’t mean to sound like the antithesis to the Annie Oakley song, but there it was. And I also didn’t mean to be rude or to appear like I didn’t want to help, but I also wasn’t exactly overwhelmed with free time.

  Wanda shook her head. “I’m not very good at this kind of thing. In the coven, if we wanted information, we checked with the Archives clerk. He told us whatever we wanted to know.”

  “You had an archives clerk?”

  She nodded. “He had access to records from covens all over the world. Getting information then was simple. Now? Not so much.”

  I sighed, figuring I was as good as roped into another of Wanda’s situations. “So these people you’re interested in researching… are they humans or are they… more?”

  “I don’t know.” She crossed her arms against her chest and appeared put out.

  “Okay, well, what do you know about them?”

  “There are three people mentioned in Betanya’s journals—all women. The strange part is that they just appeared in her journal without any introduction—I turned a page and, boom, there they were.”

  “You mean she never mentioned them before?”

  She nodded. “Right. Betanya started writing about them like they’d just materialized out of nothing.”

  “Weird.”

  She nodded. “And when I looked the women up on the internet, there was no record of who they were or where they came from.”

  “No records on them at all?”

  “Oh, there are records, but the records begin quite a while after Betanya first started writing about the three of them. It seems like they were involved in her life for several years before they first appeared on the internet in any form. Even then, there’s no trace of where the women came from. There aren’t any birth certificates, no drivers’ licenses, no medical records—nothing. It’s as if they just arrived from another planet and started living their lives in Haven Hollow.”

  “Hmm…”

  “They were definitely intimately involved with Betanya, though. She speaks very highly of them and it seems like she was close to all three of them.”

  I rubbed my chin. “The plot thickens.”

  “So, after spending countless hours trying to research online, I gave up and figured you’re smart and you’d know what to do next.”

  “Well, while I appreciate the vote of confidence, I don’t really know what to do next.”

  “I’m sure the answer will come to you,” she said, waving away my statement with an unconcerned hand. “Anyway, you’re better at this stuff than I am and I can’t think of anyone else to ask.” She paused for a few seconds.

  “What about Henner?” I started with a shrug. “Since Betanya was his grandmother?”

  Wanda shook her head. “I’ve already gotten what I can out of Henner, and he didn’t know anything about the women.”

  “Hmm.”

  Wanda shrugged. “Anyway, do you have time to review the information from Betanya’s journals before we meet up with the guys tonight?”

  “I never said I was going to meet up with them.”

  She frowned at me. “Your headache is gone, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So?”

  “Maybe I’m just not in the mood.”

  “You’re never not in the mood to be nice.”

  I laughed as I shook my head, figuring she had a point. Furthermore, if I said I was going to do something, I liked to stand behind my word. And Henner had done so many things for Finn and me, it was only right that I returned the favor, regardless what his reasons were.

  “All right. Go get the journals and we’ll see what more we can dig up.”

  With a nod, Wanda said goodbye, adding she’d be back in an hour to review the material and then we’d drive to dinner together.

  ***

  With Wanda out of the house and my headache gone, I walked back into the kitchen and cleaned up the mess from Astrid’s explosion.

  Getting the kitchen into as normal a condition as possible, I then called a repairman to fix the windows, reminding myself I still hadn’t gotten around to hiring a general contractor to start the remodel on my house. When I’d bought this place a year ago, it was dilapidated and barely looked safe to live in—now it appeared pretty much the same only Finn and I were living in it.

  Give yourself a break, Poppy, I thought. It’s not as though you haven’t been busy.

  That much was true—between starting my own business and getting involved in the myriad disasters which had befallen either myself or my friends, I hadn’t had time to catch my breath.

  Well, let’s make a point to hire a contractor this month, I resolved.

  As to the damage in the kitchen, yes, I could have asked Wanda to pay for the broken windows, but I wasn’t going to. Wanda was struggling to make ends meet as it was—her shop hadn’t quite taken off like mine had.

  Not to mention she was also dealing with her own stress. The blood bond uniting her with her would-be sire, Lorcan, was still as strong as ever and it was only a matter of time before the head of Lorcan’s line, Rupert, came calling for her. He’d given the two of them a grace period to try to reverse the curse, but that grace period was now well expired. And that meant it was just a matter of time before the vampires resurfaced.

  After making an appointment for the window repairman to arrive in an hour, I left the kitchen and walked upstairs, heading for my room so I could shower and get ready for our dinner date with the guys. No sooner did I step foot over the threshold when a shriek interrupted the otherwise still air. Heart in my throat, I whipped around and rocketed down the hall to Finn’s room.

  I nearly ripped the door off its hinges, ready to kill anyone (or anything) who might have been threatening him, but as far as I could tell, there was nothing to see.

  “What is it?” I nearly yelled.

  Finn stood in the center of the room, as white as a sheet. He gaped at the opposite wall and panted for breath. His hand shook when he pointed to the window. “O… over there!”

  I looked in the direction he pointed and still didn’t see anything.

  “What did you see?” I demanded, my heartbeat echoing through my head until it was difficult to hear over my surging blood.

  “There was… there was a man in the window! He was staring at me!”

  “A ghost?”

  He shook his head. “No—he looked… real.”

  I stormed to the window and looked out at the view beyond. This side of the house faced the aspen-lined driveway—away from Hollow Cemetery. And it was on the second floor, so it wouldn’t have been an easy feat for someone to climb up and appear in the window. As I glanced outside, I realized there was no one in sight, just miles of open grassland.

  Turning around, I walked back to Finn, who stared at the window with an unblinking, glazed expression. His lips quivered and his nostrils flared. He wouldn’t look at me—it was as if his eyes were glued to the window pane, unable to shift.

  “There’s no one there, noodle,” I murmured, calling him by the nickname I had when he was much younger. Lately, he’d been shying away from the numerous pet names I’d called him as a child—I figured this was just part and parcel of growing up, even if it caused a twinge of wistful nostalgia within me.

  “Are you sure it wasn’t a ghost? Sometimes they can manifest just as fleshly as you or me.”

  “I’m telling you, Mom!” His tone shifted to an enraged bellow and his obvious offense was justified—I should have known better than to question whether Finn was sure about seeing a ghost. Finn could see spirits as clearly as I could—it was owing to the Gypsy Traveller blood that flowed through us both—he’d absolutely know the difference between a fleshy-appearing ghost and a real person.

  “There was a guy there! I know it!”

  I nodded. “I believe you.” I took a deep breath as I moved to the next subject. “Was it someone you’ve seen before? A man you recognized?”

  Finn’s eyes snapped to mine and he appeared to wake from his shock. “No. It was someone I didn’t recognize.”

  I took a deep breath. “What did the man look like?”

  “He was kind of short and like… stocky looking, I guess,” Finn said as I sat down on his bed and he came to sit next to me. I wrapped my arm around him and he nestled into me as I stroked his head. Even though he was nearly a teenager, he still needed comfort from his mother and somehow, that fact brought me comfort.

  “Okay, that’s good. What else do you remember?”

  “He was wearing a white shirt, but his clothes were covered in red stuff—and he was dirty too. It looked like… maybe he was homeless? I’m not sure.”

  “Red stuff? Like blood?”

  Finn was quiet for a second or two as he contemplated my question. Then he shook his head. “I’m not sure. It looked like it could have been blood or maybe paint.”

  “Okay, did he have long or short hair?”

  “He was bald with some thin hair combed over the top… like this.” He further explained with a hand gesture that made it look like the guy had a comb-over.

  “Okay,” I soothed as I shook my head and tried to figure out the mystery of the man’s identity.

  “He was real, Mom,” Finn insisted again.

  I nodded. “I just was thinking about the ghosts in the graveyard and how I’ve thought they looked real on more than one occasion.”

  There were at least two spirits that haunted Haven Cemetery, and it wasn’t uncommon to see them flitting through the tombstones late at night. But, they usually didn’t leave the graveyard—I’d always figured they were attached to the land and, thus, couldn’t leave the perimeter. But, maybe I was wrong?

  Finn’s features crunched into an annoyed expression. “It was NOT a ghost, Mom. I know a ghost when I see one. This guy was real, besides… those ghosts can’t leave the graveyard.”