Page 15 of Haunt Me, Maybe

An empty room stared back at me. Well, empty sans one bloated toad. Witchy knickknacks and tomes remained scattered around the room. Poison-filled bottles lined the few shelves, and the bedsheets were flung back as if their owner would return at any moment. But a quick glance toward the attached restroom showed the same emptiness.

No witch. She was gone.

The attic felt strangely hollow without her stubborn presence cluttering the space, like only a faint echo of life remained. It was stale. I immediately scowled at myself for noticing.

You’re looking for her.

The vexatious toad stared at me, his snubbed face clearly smug.

I glared back, despite how ridiculous it was to converse with an amphibian. “I am not.”

You are.

I grumbled under my breath about the good old days when we had cats and dogs in our homes to catch vermin. When my attempt to fade into the rafters failed, I grumbled anew. Traitor. Even the house had fallen under her spell. It wouldn’t be long before she had the rest of the town bewitched, too.

“Where is she?” I sighed, already on my last thread.

Part of my annoyance was with myself. I was supposed to be watching her. I’d failed to haunt her out of the room and instead allowed her to get to me. Now she was probably comfortable and even more entrenched in Amber Grove.

She left for work, the toad casually replied.

As if that was an acceptable answer. Work! At the café, I’d bet. I feared this would happen after I saw her reaction yesterday. I even kindly warned her to stay away, but she went and applied behind my back like the sneaky witch I knew her to be. I let her previously small presence and puppy-dog eyes sway me from the truth, that she was trouble. No more. It was time to put a stop to her nonsense and chase that witch out of my town once and for all.

I blipped to the café with nary a thought, appearing inside and behind the main counter. The damned toad was already here somehow, sitting proudly on top of the baking display like some mascot. How had he gotten here before me? And why didn’t anyone notice him?

Right. Magic.

I shuddered and reinforced my guard. The lights of the café hummed in response. There was something aware in this town, a different kind of spirit that haunted specific locations, and this café was one of them. I’d felt it since the first winter after I died—low and steady, like a heartbeat tucked into the brickwork. I never considered it magic, exactly. Just…the building being old enough to know what it was for.

Whatever it was, I usually gave it a wide berth, but…it had to agree that the witch shouldn’t be here. The dining portion of the establishment was only half full, a slow morning for this time of year. Bookshelves stuffed to the brim took over the other half of the space, and I only noticed a few shadows moving there. The witch stood with Briony behind the counter, watching intently as the silver-haired woman explained the overly complicated coffee machine.

I side-eyed both of them. The local café owner had a strange feel about her, not quite like the witch, yet similar enough that I didn’t like to be around her. When she walked off to handle the ovens in the back, I pushed her from my mind and focused on the problem at hand. The lavender-haired she-devil.

The lights flickered again, followed by a stack of books tipping over near the front door. Nothing. My frustration grew until a sugar shaker fell off the counter. The toad watched me with judgment. I felt it but didn’t care. I only wanted her attention. I wanted her to acknowledge that I did not approve of this. It wasn’t fucking allowed.

But she ignored me.

The whole damn morning. She knew I was there; it was in the tilt of her head when a brisk wind blew the receipts off the counter. Or when her jaw clenched as a half-empty mug suddenly spilled over a menu. Until finally, after hours of subtle avoidance, she untied her apron, said goodbye to Briony, and walked out into the afternoon, smiling softly.

I phased out and reappeared directly in front of her.

“You’re working now?”

The witch jumped, and the toad, now in her satchel, croaked his displeasure.

“You scared me. Again.” She glowered, hand on her chest. “And yes, I am.”

Deliberately stepping around me, she continued down the sidewalk, and I bristled at how easily she dismissed me.

“You can’t just settle in like this.”

“Why not?”

The question was thrown over her shoulder as a challenge, not an honest query, and I found I didn’t have an answer. There were plenty of reasons and plenty of words I could use, but none were strong or direct enough to encompass all the sound justifications that a witch shouldn’t make herself at home here.

The tension within me grew as I silently followed her back to the inn, trailing along behind her like some kind of spectral stalker. Several townspeople waved as she passed, and I rolled my eyes at the cheery inclusion they offered. It was just as I suspected, and working at the café would only make it worse.

Her reaction was an odd one, though, and I watched her more critically. Shoulders hunched, she turned from the greetings with barely a nod, like she didn’t enjoy the attention. Like she didn’t want to be seen. But then why take a job that required her to interact with the very people she rejected?