The rest of the crowd stood a little further back, but we were still out in public, and there were some people watching us from across the street that I didn’t recognize. We might be on the outskirts of town, but even mundane people were gonna notice a brand-new hotel appearing literally overnight.

  So, I offered Roy a tired smile. “It’s a real long story. And one that should probably be shared outta earshot of the less spooky part of the population.”

  Roy nodded in understanding. “Okay. I know where we can go.”

  ***

  The Half-Moon was kind of the supernatural hang out in Haven Hollow.

  It was a combination pub and restaurant, with big comfy leather booths, a lot of gleaming wood, and enough potted plants to make it feel fresh and inviting but not like you were eating in a forest. The grub was always delicious, too, so that was a bonus.

  Roy was usually behind the bar, serving up drinks and making sure no one got outta line. Even monsters didn’t wanna tangle with an angry Big Foot protecting his territory, so all in all, the bar was a pretty safe place for everyone to let their hair down a little. Within reason, of course. It was a clear and definitely spoken and repeated rule that no one was to do anything that might draw the attention of the non-spooky denizens of the Hollow.

  The giant cup o’ joe someone had slid into my hands was doing a lot to melt that last little kernel of ice tucked up behind my ticker. There was nothing quite as human and grounding as a good cup of joe. Even the half a spoonful of sugar someone had slipped in there couldn’t bother me. I usually took it just with cream, but the hint of sweetness was working for me. Maybe the hotel had gotten me more rattled than I thought. Ha, the hotel—I was more than aware it wasn’t the hotel—I was rattled because Damon had rattled me.

  Everyone was kinda perched around the booth I was seated at. Poppy and Finn were across from me, with Henner tucked up against my side. Wanda surprised me by sitting down beside Poppy, real close like. I think Poppy was just as taken aback, because she gave Wanda a little eyebrow raise. But Poppy also didn’t slide over right away and for a second, I thought Wanda might actually sit on her.

  With an imperious toss of her hair, Wanda’s eyes narrowed. “Someone bring me an iced tea. Half sweetened, half unsweetened, with a twist of lemon. And you,” She turned that gaze on me as the crowd shuffled, and someone presumably went to make the drink she’d indicated. “Talk.”

  I took one last bracing sip, enjoying the way the hot coffee slid down my throat and sent warmth radiating through my body. “I don’t even really know where to start.”

  “Try the beginning,” Wanda muttered.

  In the end, it was easier to just keep my eyes on Wanda when I went over everything that had happened. Normally, talking in front of a crowd didn’t bother me none, but I didn’t wanna get distracted by people’s reactions. I just wanted to lay all the facts out there, as straight as I could, and not influence anyone with my opinions.

  It was possible that Cain had been a bigger influence on me than I realized.

  There were gasps, and murmurs from the audience as I relayed my story, but I just stared at Wanda. She didn’t react, other than to drum her nails against the heavy oak table. It was hard to keep my concentration when I got to the part where Damon claimed to have built the whole hotel the way he had in hopes I’d like it and choose to stay with him. That was when Henner’s hand tightened on mine. I gave him a little reassuring squeeze back, but his grip didn’t let up, so I was pretty sure it hadn’t worked. And, no, I didn’t tell him (or anyone else, for that matter) about that little kiss Death had given me. I figured some things were better left untold.

  Roy stood beside the table, his thick arms crossed over his chest. “So, you’re saying Death, as in the literal Grim Reaper, is here, in Haven Hollow?” There was an undercurrent of a growl to his voice, and I was pretty sure if he had hackles, they’d have been puffed up like a Halloween cat.

  “Not like, Death, Death. A sliver of Death?” I thought about it. “Apparently there are three Deaths.”

  “He’s an incarnation of Death,” Wanda cut in, her tone ice cold. “A piece of the whole, set to a specific task. But don’t underestimate him. He is still, in fact, ‘Death Death’.”

  “I call him Damon.”

  “The point, Darla,” Wanda warned.

  I nodded. “Right. And I wouldn’t have said he was very grim at all. It looked to me like he was having a pretty good time.”

  Bailey wrung her hands together, but didn’t seem to realize she was doing it. “And he, what… he wants to date Darla?” The way she asked the question made it sound like she couldn’t believe anyone would want to court me, least of all Death.

  “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” I shot her a look as Cain just chuckled inside my head, the jerk.

  “That’s not what I meant, Darla,” Bailey said. She looked pale and worried, and it made me feel bad for thinking the worst of her. By this point though, I just wanted to break up the mood that was hanging over the whole building. I wasn’t sure why everyone seemed to think this was such a bad situation—maybe because they hadn’t met Damon for themselves? As far as I was concerned, it was just a matter of me needing to brush up on my Poker skills.

  Of course they have a reason to be concerned, Cain’s grumble cut across my own thoughts. You made a deal with Death, Darla. And a few hands of cards isn’t going to get you out of this.

  While that might have been true, I didn’t want people to be upset. Not for me. Or maybe I did want them to be just a little upset. I mean, there was something nice about having folks who cared about you. For a long time, people only gave a darn when they thought they could get something outta me, and then, after Frank, I’d had nothing at all.

  But looking around the room now, at all my friends assembled here, I felt something warm in my chest that had nothing to do with joe. I felt like a bit of a heel enjoying their concern, but after so many years of hollow loneliness, this was a feeling I had grown to love. I had friends. I had a family. I had people who gave a darn about me, people who’d miss me if I ended up being the bride of Death. And that was like a burn and a balm all in one.

  But, as much as it chaffed to admit it, Cain was right. The bluenose.

  I pulled myself up straight, squaring my shoulders. “Anyway, that’s the crop—that’s all of it.”

  “And what a lot it is,” Poppy said on an exhale.

  I breathed in real deep. “All I have to do is beat Death at a game of poker, and all the ghostie residents of Haven Hollow will be safe. Not to mention, nothing will happen to the living—I got Damon’s word on that. Now, I just have one question.”

  Everyone leaned forward, and I met everyone’s eyes in turn.

  “Does anyone know how to play poker?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Wanda’s eyes closed, like she couldn’t bear to look at me for a second longer.

  Her head fell forward into her palm. “I should just put you out of your misery. Before you get a chance to destroy my reputation entirely.”

  “It ain’t so bad.” I had to raise my voice to be heard over the rising murmur of everyone talking. “It’s just, I was always more of a gin rummy kinda gal, you know?”

  A wrinkle of pain pulled Wanda’s brows together. She still refused to open her eyes. “This is going to be a disaster.”

  “I guess Wanda’s out,” I looked around. “Anyone else?”

  Most everyone was shaking their heads. Roy shrugged one big shoulder. “I only know the basics. I wouldn’t call myself a card player at all.”

  Henner frowned and squeezed my hand again. “I could probably find you a tutorial online.”

  Even Poppy was shaking her head, blue eyes wide.

  Hmm, maybe that did just leave Cain… though I wasn’t exactly sure how to play cards with a spook who couldn’t actually hold them. And if Cain were inside my own head, it would basically be like I’d be playing cards with myself. Neither option seemed very good.

  “I can play,” a little voice piped up.

  Poppy turned to stare at Finn, her expression somewhere between surprise and accusation. “Where on earth did you learn to play poker?”

  A flush rose to Finn’s cheeks, and he shifted in his seat. “Uncle Tobias taught me.”

  Poppy’s expression hardened into more of a ‘wait until I get my hands on those Uncles of mine’ kind of look, and Finn started talking so fast, his words kinda tripped over each other.

  “It’s not a big deal, it’s just a game we played together when they were staying with us for a few weeks. And it’s not like we gambled for money, Mom, jeez.”

  “Your Uncles gambled with you?”

  Even I winced at that tone. Finn looked like he wished he could just melt into the floor boards.

  “For candy, or chump change, not like, serious gambling, Mom.” He shot a pleading look at Marty, and then Roy, like he was asking to be saved.

  They both stayed out of it.

  Smart fellas.

  Poppy’s peepers narrowed into a dangerous squint. Then Finn cast those big and blue, soulful eyes my way, and I sighed. I sure didn’t want to bring Poppy’s wrath down on myself, but I was hoping I still had a bit of a grace period between ‘I thought you were dead’, and ‘annoying ghost who won’t leave’. So, I tossed the kid a lifeline.

  “Do you really think you could teach me a few tricks?” All my acting lessons had been about body language, small gestures that could convey big emotions up on the silver screen. Talkies didn’t come into play until I’d been pushing up daisies for a decade or more, so my voice acting took a bit of a back seat. Now I employed a tiny lip wobble for sympathy, a couple of quick blinks to make my eyes shine like I was holding back tears, and I did my best to put a thread of hope into my tone. “I’d really appreciate it, if you could, Finn. I dunno what I’m gonna do, otherwise.”

  Poppy’s face immediately softened, and she reached across the table to take my free hand. “It’s going to be okay, Darla. We’ll figure it out.”

  I glanced at Finn outta the corner of my eye while I gave Poppy a watery smile. The kid’s lips were pressed together, obviously trying to look serious while fighting back a smile. He winked at me. Geez Louise, that kid was gonna be trouble in a few more years. He already had four inches on Poppy—pretty soon, he might be as tall as Roy! And with those big blue eyes, fair skin and hair, he was every inch his mama’s.

  Thanks to his mom’s Gypsy heritage, Finn wasn’t exactly a mundane. Magic tended to be the domain of dames, though the odd trait could pop up in fellas if they came from a magical bloodline. It wasn’t impossible to get a full-blown warlock, take Maverick for instance. But it was sure unlikely. Usually, it resulted in people like Henner, those with minor magical gifts. Though I thought his technomancy was pretty keen, even if I didn’t always understand what he was talking about.

  Finn had his own gift, a little quirk of his mother’s bloodline. See, he was a magician—only a select few who could do real magic tricks. Not only that, but Finn could also sense when people were tellin’ fibs. Which meant he knew exactly how big a load of manure I’d just parked at his mama’s doorstep, and he was trying not to laugh in my face over it.

  Wanda, whose ability to sense when people were feeding her a line was almost as honed as Finn’s, though not supernatural in origin, shot me a withering glare from across the table while Poppy patted my hand.

  I gave a few more delicate sniffles and straightened my shoulders.

  “You need to take an audience with you when you go to confront this Damon asshole.”

  The non-sequitur caught me off guard, and I turned to stare at Wanda, confused. “Huh?”

  She stirred her straw around in the glass of sweet tea that had appeared in front of her at some point, making the ice cubes clink against the sides. “Darla, I need you and your ADHD mind to focus on me for a second,” she started as she waved in front of my face.

  “I’m focusin’,”

  “When you go to play out your little wager against this Death bastard, you need to take some of us with you.”

  I wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea. The thought of having to go back to that hotel and face down Damon all on my lonesome wasn’t really a pleasant one, no matter how hotsy-totsy the Grim Reaper turned out to be, or how good a kisser. But still, I had to ask. “Why?”

  “Well, for one thing,” Wanda started as she gave the lemon slice perched on the edge of her glass a little twist. “Witnesses. I’m not sure how much that will mean to a man like Death, but otherwise what’s to stop him from keeping you at his hotel even if you do win? I can’t imagine Death is a good loser. He could just declare that you lost, and none of us would be the wiser.”

  She’s gotta point, Cain said.

  That brought me up short. I hadn’t even considered that Damon might be a sore loser and insist on getting his way. In all the stories about Death, he always played out the game with the challenger—and held to his bargain. But those were just stories. Wanda was right. At least if I had people with me, they’d know if I’d really won or lost. Of course, if Damon decided to go back on his bet, I wasn’t really sure what anyone could do about it.

  Henner must have been having similar thoughts, because he slid a little closer in the booth, until we were pressed together from shoulder to thigh. And shockingly, Cain didn’t even complain about it. And that had to mean things were pretty bad if Cain wasn’t complaining.

  “Okay,” I said, slowly. “I get your point there, some kinda social pressure to keep Damon from doubling back on the bet. I’m not really sure that’ll be necessary though.” I shrugged.

  “And why is that?” Wanda demanded. She didn’t like it none when anyone argued with her. Not that I was arguing…

  “I mean, if Damon was just gonna be a sore loser, why offer me the game in the first place? I was already inside the hotel so if he was gonna play unfair, he coulda just kept me there.”

  “Right,” Poppy said as she faced Wanda, who didn’t look up from inspecting her nails. “He could have just kept Darla trapped there.”

  I nodded. “It wasn’t like anyone coulda done anything about it.”

  Wanda’s fingers tightened around her glass, her knuckles blanching under the sudden pressure. Her face stayed impassive though, almost bored, like she couldn’t believe we were all dragging her into our nonsense. Then she sighed real long like.

  “I suppose it’s true—it’s unlikely Death would do something so overt. But an audience could help keep him honest in other ways.”

  I then remembered what Cain had said: For all he complains about cheaters, Death is the biggest cheater of them all. The house always wins, eventually.

  I shivered.

  A big sip of joe helped to soothe my suddenly parched throat. “Okay, I’ll bite. How would people watching keep Damon from cheating in other ways?”

  Wanda’s lips, perfectly filled with a blood-red lipstick, curled up into a smile that woulda scared the heck outta me if she wasn’t my sorta-kinda mama. “Because of who will be in that audience, of course.”

  Her gaze slid sideways to Finn as she took a sip of her drink.

  He blinked, obviously surprised. “Me?”

  “Yes, you,” Wanda nodded.

  “Finn?” Poppy looked more than surprised. It was surprise first and then ‘hell no’ after. She even shook her head until strands of blond hair tumbled outta the tail it was pulled back into. “Oh no… no, no, no. A thousand times no. No way.”

  “Think about it.” Wanda placed her glass down on a little cardboard coaster with a half-moon on it. “Finn is the only one of us who knows when people are lying, even if the lie isn’t directed at him.”

  “She does have a point, Pops,” Marty said with a shrug.

  “And I want to help Darla, Mom,” Finn said with a quick nod. Ah, bless his heart.

  “There’s no way I’m going to put Finn in danger like that,” Poppy started, her lips tight.

  “Well, he wouldn’t have to be in danger,” Wanda started.

  “If he’s around Death, he’s in danger,” Poppy argued.

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t feel good about that,” I agreed.

  Wanda looked at me and then Poppy, before breathing out a quick breath that said she was annoyed no one would hear her out. “We could work out a signal so Finn could let Darla know if Mr. Deathly Asshole was trying to bluff her. It would give Darla an edge, and considering who she’s going up against, she’s definitely going to need one.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said, voice dry.

  One of Wanda’s shoulders rose and fell in a lazy shrug.

  “No.” Poppy shot me an apologetic look, but her lips pressed into a hard line. “I’m sorry, but no. I don’t want my son anywhere near Death. Not in the same town, and certainly not sitting across the table from him in a poker match.”

  “Poppy,” Wanda started. “It’s not dangerous like you’re thinking it is.”

  “Wanda, this is my son you’re talking about.”

  “And we’re also talking about my sorta, kinda daughter.”

  There. She’d said it! Take that Wanda’s other-stupid-mannequin-turned-daughter!

  “Mom.” Finn laid his hand on Poppy’s arm. He looked serious, almost solemn. “I want to do this. I want to help Darla. And I know I can do it, I can help Darla win because Wanda’s right—I’m the only one who can tell if Death is bluffing.”

  Poppy put her hand on top of Finn’s, still shaking her head. “No, it’s too dangerous.”

  “I’ll be careful.” Finn met his mother’s eyes, and I could see the shadow of the fella he’d grow up to be one day under the mask of a boy. “I can’t sit out and do nothing. Not when I really can help.”

  Poppy looked so torn, it made my heart hurt. I’d never had kids, and I probably never would thanks to that rat bastard, Frank. But I could imagine how much it would hurt to let your child, your only child, face such a scary danger. But Wanda had her point too—in that Damon had made me a promise that he wouldn’t hurt or come for any of my friends, and that included Finn.