This superstition dates back to the late eighteenth century, but the belief that death or misfortune will befall anyone who breaks a mirror goes back much further.

  The Romans, Greeks, Chinese, Africans and Indians all believed that the soul of a person was transferred into their reflected image when they looked into a mirror. If the glass was damaged, the soul held within it would be too.

  Later in the 1800s, a broken mirror foretold a death in the family or the loss of a friend, and the first reference to seven years bad luck appeared in 1851.

  (All Remarkable Remedy Superstitions can be found in the book, Black Cats & Evil Eyes, A Book of Old Fashioned Superstitions by Chloe Rhodes)

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  ART DECO APPARITIONS

  Haven Hollow #14

  (Hallowed Homes)

  by

  H.P. MALLORY

  &

  J.R. RAIN

  Art Deco Apparitions

  Published by Rain Press

  Copyright © 2022 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.

  Art Deco Apparitions

  Chapter One

  I wasn’t sure how long the woman had been standing in the lobby.

  Regardless, she looked like she needed help, but not a single soul in my office, Hallowed Homes, was paying her any mind. I looked at them, all busy at their desks or on their phones, and thought maybe they just hadn’t seen her come in.

  Over in one corner, Bea and Marigold, Bea’s new trainee, stood chatting amicably without so much as a glance at the woman, who even now was looking around as if hoping someone would walk up and offer assistance. And, unfortunately, there was nothing I could do at the moment because I was stuck on the phone with a client.

  “Yes. I understand,” I answered the woman on the other line. “Absolutely. Are you able to check on that now? I’ll hold.”

  “Of course,” came the reply and then the sound of Mozart as I waited.

  My attention returned to the woman, still standing just inside the door. She continued to look around expectantly, but still, no one noticed her. It was almost like she was invisible. Yes, the staff and I would need to have a conversation about this later. Usually Libby was at the front desk, but today was one of her days off and we didn’t have a replacement yet.

  “Yes, I’m still here,” I answered the other line.

  I continued to focus on the woman in the lobby and that was when I realized she was like looking at an old portrait of a gypsy woman come to life—as if she’d been captured by a camera from a different time and projected into the present. Her chestnut hair was draped forward over one shoulder and curled slightly under. Her bright yellow blouse was simple, but somehow elegant if not quite seasonally appropriate—it was February in Oregon, which meant it was cold. And yet this woman was dressed as if it were the middle of a spring California day.

  The green flowers of her blouse complemented her large green eyes, accented by dark lashes. The same green was repeated in one of the ribbons of color in the long, scarf like skirt that descended down to her ankles and ended just above her sandals? In February?

  I found myself drawn to the sandals as she continued standing there, looking around. I could see she was growing impatient and wondered if I should end my call to go out there. But, this was an important call and for all I knew, this woman was simply looking for directions.

  Most people who came to the office usually had an appointment. And those few walk-ins we did get usually didn’t amount to any sales. Either way, they didn’t get ignored. And yet, I watched as Glenn, one of my employees, walked by without giving the woman a second glance.

  Even if she weren’t Glenn’s client, he could at least have stopped to ask if she needed help. Yes, I would definitely need to have a meeting with the staff because this was just… unacceptable.

  My eyes drifted back to the sandals and her overall appearance and I couldn’t help but wonder how she wasn’t freezing. I was still watching her as I waited for my client to come back to the phone. I’d called to confirm an appointment, and she’d put me on hold while she checked her calendar. I glanced down at my fingernails, which were deftly tapping the top of my wooden desk, and when I looked up again, the woman was coming toward my office.

  She seemed anxious as she walked across the lobby floor, her face and eyes cast down, but that didn’t seem to stop her from hurrying right up to my door and then stepping inside.

  “I’ll be with you in just one moment,” I told her, puzzled as to who she was and why she felt herself so important that she could just waltz into my office unannounced—especially when I was on the phone! Still, if she was an interested buyer or seller, I could hardly make a fuss. And she had just been completely ignored by my entire staff.

  “Oh, no. Sorry,” I said to Mrs. Skirmish on the other line. “I was speaking to someone who just walked into my office.” Then I looked up at the strange young woman and mouthed: “one second” to which she nodded. “Yes, 6 p.m. is fantastic. I’m excited to show you the place. I’ll see you then.”

  It was a lie. I wasn’t thrilled at all about my evening appointment. I was supposed to give a tour of a Victorian gothic to a family of gargoyles, which was fine, except for the fact that gargoyles were known to be hard-asses. And I just really wasn’t in the mood to deal with hard-asses. But, that was a story for another day.

  After hanging up with my client, I turned to the woman in my doorway. Now that she was closer, I could see how truly attractive she was—petite, with a button nose, eyes a vivid emerald and almost too big for her face. She had an exotic sort of look—olive skin and dark features. But her beauty didn’t explain the fact that it was forty degrees outside and she was dressed for a sunny day in the park.

  “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this,” the woman started, worrying her hands together in obvious anxiety that matched the furrow in her brow. It was almost like a cloud of sadness had followed her into my office—I could feel the energy pulsating out of her—it was an acute depression laced with something that felt like desperation.

  “That’s okay,” I started before she interrupted.

  “My name is Rhea,” she said in what sounded like a Greek accent.

  “Please have a seat. I’m Fifi Stenham.” She did as I requested, taking a seat in one of the chairs facing my desk. When she looked up at me again, I asked, “What can I do for you?”

  She kept twisting a ring nervously around her finger. It appeared to be a wedding ring, so I could only assume she was a newlywed looking for a first house. And that would also explain her tattered nerves—anxiety was pretty common for first-time home buyers.

  “I’d like to see one of your listings,” she started.

  “Okay,” I started, turning to my computer and pulling up the listings screen so I could search up whatever listing she was interested in. I gave her a big smile with the hopes that she’d calm down a bit—her constant fidgeting was making my own nerves act up. “Which home is it?”

  “The Mathison house,” she answered and then smiled for the first time since walking in my office. It was a good sign. At least she was beginning to relax.

  I frowned because even though I knew of the Mathison House—it was the first house built in the Art Deco style in Haven Hollow—I couldn’t recall it being one of our active listings. Just as I was about to type out a search query, I caught sight of Bea, a member of the Spring Court and a faerie, as she walked past my door.

  Bea was one of my employees and also my good friend. I glanced up in her direction when she was just beyond my door. Then she suddenly backtracked and stood in the door frowning at me.

  “Um,” she started.

  It was out of character for her to disrupt me when I had a client in my office.

  “Is everything okay, Bea?” I asked, not wanting to ignore her, but also not wanting to take too much focus away from Rhea now that I seemed to have put her a little more at ease.

  Plus, we needed every sale we could get. Even though things had started to take off at Hallowed Homes, we were still a relatively new business, with a lot to prove. Our primary focus was selling homes to monsters looking to relocate to the Hollow, but we were happy to also sell to mundanes.

  “I was just going to ask you the same thing,” Bea replied, her brow furrowed into a tight little knot as she glanced nervously toward the chair where Rhea sat.

  What is wrong with her?

  “I’m with a client,” I replied, shooting her admonishing look.

  “A client?” Bea repeated, her frown deepening.

  I cleared my throat and gave Rhea an apologetic expression before looking back up at Bea. “Did you need something else?” I asked as Bea continued to stand at my door with a puzzled expression. There was something else there, too. Concern, maybe?

  “No. I just… wanted to make sure you were… okay,” she insisted, not moving from the door.

  And that was when I figured she must have been checking to see how my physical health was—if I needed to feed. But why in the world would she think now was a good time to ask?

  “I’m good, thanks,” I replied, eager to put an end to this awkwardness and get back to my new client.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  What the hell, Bea?

  I scowled at her, not sure why she was being so obtuse. Could she not see that I was in the middle of a client meeting?! What in the world was wrong with her?

  “We can chat when I’m done with my client here,” I told her, hoping she’d take the hint.

  “See, that’s the thing,” Bea started, chewing on her lower lip before taking a deep breath as she looked at me with alarm in her big eyes. “You don’t have a client, Fifi.”

  “Don’t have a client?” I repeated, scoffing at Rhea as if to say my friend had taken leave of her senses. Rhea just gave me a small smile. I looked up at Bea as I tried to understand what in the world was going on with her. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’ve been having a conversation with an empty chair,” she replied, sounding even more troubled.

  “What? Don’t be absurd,” I said, turning toward Rhea to apologize. “Rhea, I’m so sor—”

  But, my voice trailed off as I found myself facing emptiness where Rhea had been sitting only moments ago.

  But that was impossible. Rhea hadn’t left my office! She hadn’t so much as moved a foot. She’d just… vanished.

  “Where did she go?” I gasped. “She was just right here!”

  “Where did who go?”

  “The woman I was talking to,” I answered, starting to get frantic as I stood up and looked around my office, as if Rhea had decided to hide behind the fake plant in the corner or the filing cabinets in the opposite corner. Then I walked to the door and stared down both sides of the hallway, but there was no sign of Rhea. And that was just… impossible. I shook my head as I turned back to Bea and started doubting my own senses. “Didn’t you see a woman walk through the lobby and come in here?”

  Bea shook her head. “No.”

  “She… she was standing in the lobby and no one was paying her any attention and so she walked into my office, probably because I was the only one who acknowledged her!”

  “Maybe no one saw her because she wasn’t there?” Bea offered.

  “Bea, I just spent the last five minutes chatting with her in that chair!” And I pointed at the chair in question. Bea looked at it and then at me, but her expression didn’t change.

  She breathed out a long breath. “I hate to break it to you, but no one was there, Fifi. You’ve been talking to that empty chair ever since you hung up the phone.”

  “You saw me on the phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you must have seen the woman come to my door and take a seat as I was finishing up.”

  “There was no woman, Fifi.” She cleared her throat and gave me that concerned expression again. “When was the last time you fed?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered, waving away her question with an unconcerned hand. “But, that’s not what this is about!”

  “Fifi, you know how you get when you don’t feed.”

  “I don’t hallucinate people who aren’t there!” I yelled back, now fully frustrated.

  Because I was a succubus, I had to feed off the sexual desire of men in order to survive, but doing so wasn’t something I enjoyed. And, in general, I also wasn’t good about doing it. Then my friend, Roy, had offered to allow me to feed off him and my feedings had become more plentiful, though still not as much as I truly needed, nor as thorough. But, no, my feeding, or lack thereof, had nothing to do with this.

  “When was the last time you fed from Roy?”

  “Maybe a week ago!” I answered, shaking my head. “I feel fine. This has nothing to do with my feeding or not feeding.” I walked into the hallway and back down the other way again, still searching for any sign of Rhea. Bea watched me the whole time with what looked like pity in her eyes.

  “There was a woman here,” I insisted. “She came straight through the lobby and asked me about a listing she saw. I was discussing it with her when you came to the door,” I insisted, exasperated.

  “I’m telling you no one was ever there.” Then she shrugged. “Unless it was a ghost.”

  “I would have been able to tell if she’d been a ghost,” I answered. “But, she looked as fleshly as you do. And, besides, most everyone in this office would have been able to see a ghost, if that’s what she was.”

  “True,” Bea answered, cocking her head to the side.

  My heart was hammering as I contemplated what was happening. It made no sense. I knew I’d seen the woman. I’d talked to her, and she’d looked as 3D as Bea did. I knew she was here, but now she wasn’t—it was as simple as that. And not as simple as that, because I couldn’t explain how she’d just disappeared. And, for that matter, why no one else had been able to see her in the first place.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?” Bea asked again.

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Okay, let me know if anything changes,” she said and, turning on her toes, left my office. I took my seat and then just sat there, staring at the empty chair in front of me for a few more moments, as if that would somehow make Rhea rematerialize. When it didn’t, I stood up and walked out of my office to talk to my employees. I just needed to see if any of them had at least seen a woman.

  But, five minutes later, I was no closer to solving this mystery. Not a single one of them had seen the woman, and I didn’t understand how that was possible.

  I returned to my office and sat down again, trying to shake off what had happened, but I found myself unable to focus on anything else. All I could think about was what could have caused me to see someone who wasn’t there—someone I was fairly sure wasn’t a ghost. And, yet, she’d been dressed oddly—as if she was just stepping into a summer day—not an icy cold one.

  But it wasn’t like I could see through her! I insisted to myself. And if she’d been a ghost, the others would have seen her too.

  If she wasn’t a ghost, was it conceivable that I’d truly hallucinated her into existence? Could it be possible this was related to my sporadic feedings? Truly, it was more like I was starving myself and had been for months.

  Angelo would have a field day with this if he got wind of it.

  He’s not going to get wind of it, I yelled inwardly. He isn’t here today and all of your employees can’t stand him, so it’s not like they’re going to expose you.

  Having to put up with Angelo’s opinions on whether I was feeding my succubus wasn’t my main concern, though.

  I might have had bigger problems—mental health ones, to be precise.

  Chapter Two

  I immediately looked for my friend, Roy, as I stepped into the Half Moon Bar and Grill after closing up Hallowed Homes for the night.

  I found the handsome sasquatch behind the bar where he regularly slung drinks for his numerous customers. People always picture the owner of such a place as kicked back, directing his employees to do the day-to-day work, but that wasn’t Roy. I couldn’t say whether all restaurant owners were so hands-on, but from what Roy had told me when I’d briefly worked for him, it was a necessity to keep your business close to the vest.

  I sat down at the bar and waited for Roy to make his way down to me, watching as he waited on a number of folks. All the while, I fretted, shredding a napkin into bits as I thought about the day I’d had. I needed to tell Roy my story about Rhea and how she’d literally vanished, despite worrying the story might make me sound like I was unhinged. Even so, Roy was the only person I trusted enough to believe me. And even if he didn’t believe me, he wasn’t the type to tell anyone I was losing it.

  “What can I get you, Fifi?”

  I was so focused on the destruction of my napkin that I didn’t realize Roy had finally reached me. My head jerked up in his direction, my heart racing as I suddenly felt very nervous about what I’d come to say.

  “The usual—just an iced tea, please.”

  “Coming up,” he replied and gave me that winning smile of his. Roy was incredibly handsome, as I’d mentioned, but the two of us had only ever been and would only ever be friends. We were just too… different. Roy was like this huge, tall and strong oak tree standing bravely against the wind and I was like this weak, bending sapling getting dizzy as it was blown this direction and that.

  I watched as he pulled down a clean glass from the shelf behind him and filled it with ice before pouring the lightly sweetened tea over it. Unlike some restaurants in the vicinity, Roy’s tea was perfectly sweetened. It wasn’t bitter from a lack of sugar, but not so sweetened that it felt like you were ingesting syrup.

  “Thanks,” I said as he slid the drink across the bar to me. “Do you have a moment to talk?”

  “Sure.” He gave me another big Roy smile that immediately made me feel somehow warmer and calmer. He had that effect on me, and I was beyond grateful for his friendship. He turned his attention to the back of the room, where a couple of guys were yelling at him and making hand gestures to order more drinks. Roy faced me with a sigh.