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“I really like the color of your hair. It’s like a blade of grass on a spring morning.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “Are you mocking me?”
“No, I’m serious. It’s festive, too. I wouldn’t look half as good with that color.”
She examined me from head to toe. “No, not with your skin tone, but you could try purple. I bet that would look cool.”
“Thanks for the tip.” I trudged through the inch of snow to my truck. No goddess powers required for that one. Just good, old-fashioned flattery. Pops would be proud. He’d taught me to disarm my opponents with charm and only if that failed should I resort to weaponry. My powers were meant to be reserved for the most severe situations. I didn’t always manage to adhere to that rule, especially where ghosts were concerned. Although I could control ghosts, I couldn’t control when and where I encountered them. Sometimes they popped up when I least expected them.
I stood in the parking lot for a moment and scanned the area for any sign of the wild boar. White puffs left my mouth as I breathed out the frigid night air. I highly doubted the boar was the animal Bert had seen in the woods the night Chutney died. Even in the dark, its shape and tusks wouldn’t be mistaken for a dog. Also, Bert described longer hair around its head, and the boar looked more like a hairy pig than a lion.
Satisfied the boar had fled, I climbed into my truck and blasted the heater. I relished the silence on the drive home. The nightclub had been overwhelming tonight. I needed to give my senses a break. The snow was still falling, and I switched the wipers to high to battle the flakes.
My stomach growled as I parked outside the gate of the Castle. No surprise given that I hadn’t eaten since lunch. That would teach me to forget plans with Otto.
I passed through the gate and crossed the bridge, mentally viewing the contents of my fridge to see if I had anything that could be prepared quickly. There was always aPB and J sandwich. If memory served, I had enough blackcurrant jam to cover one slice of bread.
As I reached the front porch, I noticed a wicker basket on the doormat. If there were newborn kittens inside, I was going to lose my shit.
Summoning my courage, I lifted the lid an inch. No fluffy heads popped out. I widened the gap and the aroma of basil, thyme, and other herbs and spices filled my nostrils.
“Otto, you’re not a vampire, you’re an angel.”
I closed the lid and carried the basket inside. My sandwich would have to wait until tomorrow. Right now, I had a stew to inhale.
CHAPTER 4
I awokethe next morning to a scraping noise. I sat up in bed and listened intently. It sounded like an injured animal was dragging itself upstairs using its claws. As soon as I pushed down the covers, I regretted it. The air in my bedroom couldn’t have been warmer than fifty degrees. The house was unbelievably drafty at the best of times.
This was not even close to the best of times.
I grabbed a throwing knife from the drawer of my bedside table and traced the sound downstairs to the dining room to find Nana Pratt and Ray diligently scraping the remainder of the mural off the wall.
I lowered the knife to my side. “Good morning,” I said.
Two apparitional heads turned toward me.
“Sorry,” Ray said. “We didn’t mean to wake you.”
I couldn’t be mad. The dining room was almost unrecognizable. “I can’t believe you did all this work.”
Nana Pratt waved the putty knife in the air. “I’m an expert now.”
Ray backed away from her waving arm, as thoughworried she might stab him. Some human inclinations stayed with the dead.
“Any luck with the dog?” he asked.
“No sign of Benji.” My hands moved to rest on my hips. “I’m seriously impressed with this. You’ve saved me hours of work. Thank you.”
“I’d like to finish today if you don’t mind,” Nana Pratt said.
“Of course not. Scrape away!”
“What will you do with your free time?” Ray asked.
I shrugged. “Tackle one of the other hundred projects in the house? But right now, I’m going to eat breakfast.”
Nana Pratt nodded her approval. “It’s the most important meal of the day.”
