“Well, not just any skirt’s body, my body.”

  He nodded. “It’s the job you’re best suited for.” His voice was mild, but had an underlying thread of steel in it. And that steel threatened me not to argue with him. Well, call me jingle-brained, but I wasn’t about to sign on the dotted line.

  “Yeah, well, you see,” I started.

  “This will give you a chance to establish yourself in the Society, to showcase your unique skills, Ms. Fenton. Being able to hold a possession for so long will bring you a great deal of positive attention and notoriety. Not to mention… future business and a sizable income.”

  “How long we talking about?”

  “The contract stipulates a year.”

  “A year?!” Di Mi! What was Mr. Howard thinking? Even though I was surprised from here to China, I started to remind myself that I needed this gig.

  According to Wanda, I needed to start making my own way in life and that meant earning my own wage, just like my zombie roommate, the incomparably boring Libby. But the corpse was working as a receptionist at Hallowed Homes—I didn’t think that really compared with getting possessed by some hard-boiled sleuth. And for a whole year, no less.

  The idea was highly unpleasant, and that musta showed on my face, because Mr. Howard leaned back into his chair, clasping his hands together as he waited for me to comply.

  When I didn’t immediately agree, he said, “If you would prefer not to do this, perhaps there are other locations in Haven Hollow that are hiring someone of your… abilities.”

  The way he said the word, he was as aware as I was that I had no abilities.

  “If you take on this position,” Mr. Howard continued. “It will be to your monetary advantage. I can absolutely promise you that no other entry-level position anywhere will be able to compete with my offer.”

  And that was the kicker. The last thing I wanted was Libby teasing me about making more spinach than I was—it was bad enough that she was the one to land a working gig first.

  Lorcan Rowe, my adopted father, was letting me and the corpse stay in a duplex he owned. He was being real nice about it, but I couldn’t bank on his good will forever, especially because his generosity tended to depend on Wanda’s, and she didn’t have much of it at all.

  So, my choices were to either share my body with the ghost of a wet blanket for a whole year or I’d be doing the supernatural equivalent of picking up cans on the side of the road.

  Terrific.

  “I’ll need to think about it.” My voice was terse, almost ungrateful, but I couldn’t help it. I’d had such high hopes at the start of the day.

  Mr. Howard didn’t say anything as I stood up to go, but I still stopped at the door.

  The fact that he knew so much about me was still eating at me. Where had I slipped up? How had I given myself away? Had I said something that put not only my own life, but Wanda’s, in jeopardy? I couldn’t let that thought rest. So, I twirled round on my shapely gams and faced the big boss again.

  “Mr. Howard? Can I ask you one last question?”

  “You may.”

  “How is it that you know so much about me?”

  He smiled, and all the hair on the back of my neck stood on end like I’d just gotten hit by a bolt of lightning. There was nothing friendly in the big man’s expression, more of a baring of teeth. I felt like I’d reached out to pet a dignified Irish Setter, only to blink and find my hand in the jaws of a wolf.

  “I used to work for Jonathon Moses,” he answered. “You may have heard of him.” I couldn’t remember ever hearing anything about a Jonathon Moses, and was about to ask if he didn’t have one of the starring roles in the bible, but decided not to say anything. Instead, I just watched the boss man as he flexed his fingers, drawing attention to the silvery lines of scars littering them.

  “He’s the man in charge of all the monster hunters within the United States. After I was injured in a confrontation with a griffin, I could no longer work in the field. But make no mistake, Miss Fenton. I still have connections that feed me valuable information.”

  “I ain’t makin’ no mistakes,” I answered.

  “Let us hope not.”

  The room felt cold. The sunlight outside the windows was suddenly very far away.

  Blaise Morgan leaned forward. Even seated, he still managed to make me feel like he was looming over me. His peepers were colder than the law pinchin’ a mobster.

  “Let me make myself quite clear, in no uncertain terms, that I do not trust you.” Each word he spit out felt like a needle of ice. “You were resurrected by a Blood Witch, one of the most dangerous, unpredictable forces of magic we’ve ever encountered. I don’t believe for a second that such power could leave a person wholly intact.”

  I stared and was so intimidated by his gruffness, I almost forgot to be offended.

  My pipes hurt. I tried to swallow, but it felt like I had a stone lodged in there. “You think I came back wrong?”

  “It’s part of the reason I want to hire you. It will be easier to keep my eye on you this way.”

  “I don’t need no one keepin’ an eye on me,” I managed, but by the expression on his face, he didn’t agree.

  He leaned back into his chair, broad shoulders cradled by the expensive leather. “Think about what you want to do, Miss Fenton. I’ll expect your answer by morning.”

  I didn’t run all the way back to the front of the building, but I definitely hustled.

  For the rest of the day, no matter what I did, I couldn’t keep Blaise Howard’s words from echoing around in my skull, every syllable ringing like an accusation.

  Chapter Three

  Sometimes, what a gal needs most is to be surrounded by other dames that get what they’re going through.

  Lucy had Ethel, Elise had the First Wives Club (since watching television shows since the 1940s, I was up on my TV trivia), and I had the Black Cat Cocktail Club.

  I couldn’t even describe how helpful the broads of Haven Hollow were when I un-kicked the bucket. Not with the coming back to life part. Heck, Wanda had laughed until she’d cried the first time she saw me slam into a wall, forgetting I couldn’t drift through them anymore. Her snooty little familiar, Hellcat, still hadn’t let me live that particular embarrassment down. No, the ex-ghost stuff was mostly on me. What the club helped with was the being alive part and the being zozzled part, after tipping back a few too many.

  I died young, and while I’ll be forever grateful to Poppy for keeping me from aging myself into a pile of dust again, I kinda skipped my twenties and most of my thirties in the process. Part of me couldn’t help being cheesed off by it. It felt like Frank stole those years from me, the rat. I’d missed out on so many things. I knew I shoulda been happy to have gotten anything back, but it was still a huge adjustment.

  One of those adjustments was that I always thought I’d have kids, someday. That didn’t look so likely, anymore. I wasn’t even sure I could push out a brat or two, given the state of my existence and how I’d come back to life in the first place. Maybe there was some law written somewhere that dames that got reanimated couldn’t go on to create their own life. Maybe it was somehow unholy.

  Regardless, at least I had people to talk to again. And gin. Couldn’t forget the gin. The only thing I hadn’t tried my hand at this time around was a little horizontal refreshment…

  Nothing had changed about the conversation with the boss man, of course, but at least I felt better sitting around the table in Poppy’s farmhouse kitchen with the rest of the club, listening to Wanda complain about her last date with Lorcan. Even though she pretended to be put-out by Lorcan and his antics, we all knew better. The two of them were as sweet on each other as maple is to syrup. And not one of us ever called her on it. We were all aware she had a mean shot with a hex.

  “And he wouldn’t even tell me where we were supposed to be going. Instead, he said ‘spontaneity is romantic, sweetling,’” Wanda ranted, badly imitating Lorcan’s Irish accent. “And then, where does he take me?”

  “Where?” Poppy asked, covering her kisser to smother the snicker she couldn’t hold in.

  “The beach,” Wanda sneered, her lip curling in disgust as if she’d said “the dump.”

  I thought it was actually kinda sweet, Lorcan taking her to the beach. I couldn’t help but think if I had a fella, that’s exactly where I hoped he’d take me. Well, that is before taking me to heavenly orbit that only a toss in the hay can provide.

  Bailey put her drink down, the corner of her kisser twitching. “What’s wrong with the beach? I like the beach.”

  Wanda crossed her arms over her enormous bubs, muttering under her breath for a moment before responding. “‘What’s wrong with the beach?’ she asks. For spells sakes! What’s wrong with the beach is that, because Lorcan hadn’t bothered to tell me where he was dragging me to, I’d worn my Louboutin open-toed pumps!”

  The whole table winced collectively. Except for Hellcat.

  “Listening to all of you idiotic hens and your nonstop clucking is enough to give an educated and sentient being an absolute aneurysm.”

  “Then be off with you!” Wanda said, no doubt falling back into the dialect of her past—she was one-hundred-forty-one, after all.

  “Yeah, no one invited you,” Fifi added.

  “I am retiring into my man cave,” Hellcat continued, tail twitching as he headed for his kitty door. “If any felines of the female persuasion should find themselves lost and regrettably upon your doorstep, please direct them where I can be found.”

  “Yeah, in your den of iniquity,” Bailey answered on a giggle, which was quickly usurped by a hiccup.

  Hellcat turned and offered her a glare and, with that, he disappeared.

  “Where were we?” Poppy asked.

  “Wanda was telling us about her beach date with Lorcan,” Libby answered.

  “Right,” Wanda picked up the line of conversation again. “So, I told him, ‘listen up, blood-sucker. These shoes have exactly one job; to look amazing. So, if you think I’m going to ruin them with sand, you’re out of your mind.’ And after he mooned about me wanting to look good for him, as if I were wearing those prized heels for him, he begins his neverending ode of: ‘I’ll carry you, sweetling.’”

  Poppy sat down with a bright green daiquiri, her blue peepers sparkling. “Did he carry you?”

  “No, he did not carry me.” Wanda drained the last of her drink like it was a shot, grimacing as it burned down her throat. “I gave him a choice. We either went somewhere respectable, or he would become the world’s first vampiric salamander, at which point I would take control of his Porsche and run him over with it.”

  “Well, since Lorcan doesn’t seem to be any more dead than he usually is, I’m going to assume he picked option A?” Poppy asked.

  Wanda snorted and held up her glass for Poppy to refill it. “He took me to a nice steak house instead.”

  Fifi nodded sagely. “Smart man.”

  Poppy poured a generous three fingers into Wanda’s glass and the conversation moved on. Eventually, it was my turn, and I took the chance to vent about my run-in with Blaise Howard.

  “And then,” I said, gesturing sharply enough that the ice in my glass rattled. “He said that if I didn’t agree to having a ghost hobo squatting in my body for a whole year, I’d have to find work elsewhere.”

  “Howard can be a tight ass,” Bailey agreed. “But he’s actually a good boss.”

  I tossed back the last of my Gin Rickey, savoring the tartness of lime on my tongue, and put my glass down with a clink. Poppy, sympathetic angelic wallflower that she was, slipped another cocktail my way. Her skill with mixing potions made her a definite lover of mixing up the hootch, so she was usually the designated booze slinger, a position shared with Bailey.

  We’d just finished talking about the ins and outs regarding whether or not I should agree to be possessed by the spook of Cain Morgan and Wanda appeared to be the only one who was all for it. Bailey was surprised but thought I had the spiritual ability, Libby was horrified that I’d be ‘sharing the same domicile’ as a fella because it sounded ‘completely scandalous’ and Poppy was just worried, like she normally was. I had to explain to Fifi at least three times that there weren’t nothing sexual about it. She seemed disappointed ‘bout that fact.

  “What are you going to do?” Bailey asked on a hiccup, one of her peepers already drooping down like an old lady’s pantyhose.

  “I dunno.” I was whining. I could hear it in my own voice, but I couldn’t seem to stop. The whole situation was just the pits.

  Poppy placed a comforting paw on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before stepping over to the window and tugging the curtains aside to glance into the backyard.

  All the fellas were out there entertaining Finn, Poppy’s son. Muffled shouts and shrieks of laughter rang through the air. I immediately noticed Henner and couldn’t help a smile as it took hold of my mouth. There was just something about that man that made my heart wanna break out in song and dance.

  “What are they doing out there, anyway?” I took a healthy gulp of my fresh drink, the ice bumping against my teeth.

  Poppy’s face lit up. “Playing dodgeball. Or, rather, Lorcan and Roy are throwing the ball at each other, and everyone else seems to be betting on who’s going to win.”

  “Maybe they’ll do us all a favor and batter each other into a coma,” Wanda muttered.

  “Wanda, what a horrible thing to say about your intended!” Libby reprimanded her, propping her hands on her hips. With her ridiculous skirts that rode out on either side of her, she looked like a traffic cone.

  “My intended?” Wanda repeated, laughing.

  “Ugh, could you be any more of a canceled stamp?” I groaned at Libby.

  “Just because I’m not a floozy, like you, doesn’t make me a canceled stamp!” Libby roared before stomping her foot like a true canceled stamp.

  Bailey clutched her daiquiri, not drinking it, just moving the base around and leaving rings of moisture on the wooden table. She stared at the glass, unseeing, as she spoke. “I just don’t get it. I’ve worked with Howard for years. He’s a good boss.”

  “But not much for friendly banter,” I added with a laugh I didn’t really feel.

  “I can’t believe he used to be a hunter,” Fifi added.

  “And for him to ask you to do a long-term summoning like that...” Bailey continued as she shook her head.

  I stuck my lower lip out at her. “You don’t think I can do it?”

  My antics got a weak smile, which was better than nothing. She seemed more bothered by the idea than the others.

  “I just don’t like that he’d ask you to do something potentially dangerous, with no real consideration for your safety.”

  I certainly didn’t get the impression that my safety was a priority to Blaise Howard. Heck, I was lucky if it was on his list of concerns at all.

  Wanda slammed her drink down on the table, the liquid sloshing dangerously up the sides of the glass. She always drank a cocktail she claimed was her own invention, called “Hex on the Beach”, and she’d instructed Poppy how to make it. I had no idea what was in it, but it had a smoky purple color and thin tendrils of fog wafted off its surface. It looked like something that old, crabby witch fed Snow White.

  I was thinking Poppy should invent her a new drink titled ‘Sand in my Louboutin’s’, but I didn’t mention it.

  “If Blaise Howard doesn’t back off, I’ll hex him for you.” Wanda jabbed her finger at me, her long mauve nail only a few inches from my face. “You’re my creation, and no washed-up hunter is going to stroll in here and push me around.”

  “Darla,” Poppy corrected her. “He won’t push Darla around.”

  Wanda’s shoulders rose and fell in a negligent shrug. “Sure.”

  “Your creation? You make it sound like Darla’s Frankenstein,” Fifi added with a laugh.

  But my attention was still focused on the fact that Wanda had shown some anger on my behalf—it actually seemed like, at least for a few seconds, she honest-to-goodness cared about me. And that was something I could take all the way to the bank.

  “Thanks, Wandamama,” I said to her, and she immediately glared at me.

  “What have I told you about calling me that?”

  “Sorry,” I answered on a sheepish grin. It was just that sometimes I wanted to call Wanda my ma because that’s really what she was or at least, that’s how I thought of her. And Lorcan was like my pa. At least, he didn’t mind it so much when I slipped up.

  “What are you going to do, Darla?” Poppy asked me.

  “What do you all think I should do?”

  Fifi looked down into her Mojito as if the secrets of the universe were written on the surface. There was a scowl on her pretty face, like she was thinking real hard.

  As far as demonesses went, Fifi was the whole package. Well, at least I thought she was, but it wasn’t as though I knew many demonesses. Actually, I only knew one and she was sitting right next to me.

  She was tall, blonde, and gorgeous with bubs that were as big as my head and they were natural, too. It would be so easy to be jealous of her with that cascade of silver hair that was down to her hips, the come hither look in her eyes that could lay a man flat at fifty paces, and eyelashes that put even Steamboat Solis’ to shame.

  “The request is coming from Taliyah Morgan,” she started slowly. “And Taliyah is the heir to the throne of the Winter Court of Faerie.”

  That was another layer of complication I hadn’t even considered. Everything was getting awfully sticky in a hurry. I just wanted to get a job and live my second life, but that didn’t seem in the cards no more.

  “So, you think I should do it?”

  Fifi looked me right in the peepers, sympathy marring her pretty brow. “I think with everything that’s happened lately, we need all the allies we can get. And having the next Queen of Winter owing you a favor would be a very good thing.”