I set the tea kettle to boiling and took a stool beside her, clutching an empty mug in both hands. “Ryan has to drive into town this morning to meet a client, but I was thinking you and I could hang out and sort through some of the antiques in the attic.”

  Rather than trying to keep her from everything in the attic, maybe it was better to educate her about each item, where it came from and what powers it possessed. Maybe in understanding the hidden dangers in paranormal artifacts, she’d be less likely to mess around with them. That was my hope anyway.

  Maggie’s eyes rose at the word antiques. “That… that might be fun! What are we going to do with them?”

  The kettle was whistling now. I rose and poured the hot water into the mug over the peppermint tea bag, stirring in a tablespoon of honey. “There’s a lot of stuff up there that I’ve just been collecting, and I need to start cataloging everything so I know each item’s details and where to find it when I need it.”

  “Is it all ghost-hunting paraphernalia?”

  I shook my head. “Some of it is just antiques, passed down from my mother’s side of the family. And there’s a lot of crap up there too. Stuff I need to throw away or donate.”

  “And will Drake be along for the ride too?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “Who knows? If he wants to, I guess.”

  “I wish we could go through it without Drake,” she said. “I’m doing my best to avoid him.”

  “And I imagine he’s doing his best to avoid you too,” I replied. “But keep in mind that he also lives here so you can’t avoid him forever.” Then I frowned at her. “Besides, it seems like maybe you’re overreacting a little bit?”

  “I’m not overreacting. He needs to learn to mind his own business.”

  “Well, I don’t want to get into it again,” I said with a sigh. “But my point still stands. You can’t avoid each other forever.”

  “Unfortunately, for me.”

  Luckily, I was relieved of the burden of having to respond by the arrival of Drake, who came drifting through the open door of the cabinet. “Good morning, mon chaton,” he said before he pointedly turned up his nose at Maggie.

  “Say good morning to Maggie, Drake,” I said.

  He didn’t look at her. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning to you,” she answered, equally as aloof.

  “You two are going to have to work through this,” I said to both of them. “And you’re going to have to figure it out really soon because this silent treatment you’re both giving one another is going to get really old really quick.”

  “Understood,” Maggie said as she slumped back over her breakfast.

  Drake merely nodded sharply.

  “So, what sort of stuff is up there?” Maggie asked shyly but I could tell her interest was simmering just beneath the surface of her calm demeanor.

  “Up where?” Drake asked.

  “The attic,” I responded. “We’re about to go clean it and catalog all the items.”

  “Mon dieu,” Drake said.

  “You don’t have to come with us,” Maggie said.

  “I would not miss it for the world,” Drake responded with a broad grin.

  “That’s what I was worried you were going to say,” Maggie grumbled.

  He faced Maggie. “Not everything in the attic is innocent.”

  “Innocent?” she repeated.

  “Paranormal artifacts can carry their own inherent dangers,” I said.

  Drake nodded. “I would advise you to burn the lot, although certain items will prove impermeable to fire.”

  Maggie nearly sprang out of her seat as her eyes went wider. “You mean there are objects up there that won’t burn? Not because they’re flame-retardant, or whatever, but because of curses or spells?”

  “Precisamente,” replied Drake. He launched into a long explanation of how certain objects have protective spells to prevent them from being tarnished, destroyed, or mislaid. Then he cited an example of a small cauldron that always found its way back to its owner whenever it was accidentally left somewhere.

  I pulled the empty lemonade jar out of the pantry and started filling it up with water when I heard footsteps on the front porch. My first thought was that maybe Ryan came home early but a weird, sinking feeling in my gut told me otherwise. Suffice to say, I’ve learned to listen to my body and my instincts. Whenever I sense impending doom, I treat it with all the reverence it deserves.

  Please don’t be another ghostly child, I prayed to whoever would listen.

  Leaving the jar on the counter and motioning for Maggie to wait in the kitchen, I walked into the hallway. There was a knock on the door.

  “Who do you think is knocking?” Maggie asked as she came up behind me, nearly scaring the hell out of me.

  “I don’t know!” I said as I turned to face her and shook my head, trying to catch my breath. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put?”

  “Well, yeah...”

  She smiled guiltily but I didn’t respond.

  When I reached the front door, I peered through the peephole. To my utter relief, no one was standing there—no one, that is, except for a small dog. It was definitely a golden retriever mix, sitting on its haunches with its mouth open and wagging its tail cheerfully.

  “What the heck?” I said as I opened the door enough to poke my head out. No one accompanied the dog. I glanced left and right but only saw the empty street. So who could have knocked?

  Before I knew it, the dog pushed open the door with its snout and forced its way inside. It had the familiar air of an old friend. Within seconds, it was bounding up on surprisingly powerful hind legs, attempting to lick my face.

  “Oh my gosh! He’s so cute!” cried Maggie, kneeling down and running her hands all over the dog’s face. “What’s your name?”

  I checked his neck but he wore no collar. “Maybe he belongs to one of the neighbors,” I said as I studied the dog now slobbering all over Maggie, who didn’t seem to mind at all.

  Maggie looked up and her attention settled on something behind me. “Look, there’s a note taped to the door.”

  I turned around. Sure enough, someone left a note on blue-lined paper taped to the front door. I took it down and unfolded it before reading: “To whomever lives here, I lost my job and I can’t afford to keep Daschel any longer. I’ve always admired your house, and I believe you don’t have any pets, so I hope you’ll consider keeping Daschel and giving him a good, loving home.”

  “Wow, that’s so random,” Maggie said.

  I turned the piece of paper over twice before adding, “Yeah. Really random. And there’s no name or address.”

  “Guess Daschel’s yours then,” Maggie said as she patted the dog’s head gingerly.

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that yet.” I looked down at the big, goofy creature, wondering if I could really drop him off at the pound. “A dog is a huge responsibility.”

  “Yeah, but he needs a home and I agree with whoever wrote the note—this is the perfect home for him,” Maggie argued.

  “What’s going on?” asked Drake, half-floating through the door frame. He glanced down at the dog and gave a condescending smirk of disdain. “Ah, a stray animal.”

  “Your powers of observation are astounding,” I said with a smirk.

  “What are you doing with him?” Drake continued, eyeing the dog with visible distaste.

  “I don’t know,” I answered.

  “We plan to keep him!” Maggie responded as she threw her arms around Daschel, and the dog wagged his tail even harder.

  “I do not care to share my dwelling with a filthy animal,” Drake said.

  “We have no problem sharing our dwelling with you,” Maggie pointed out and I did my best to suppress a smile. Teenagers.

  “Well!” Drake said with feigned offense.

  “You sound like a grumpy, old man, Drake,” I replied with a laugh.

  The dog knelt in front of us, panting and presumably unbothered that his future was being discussed right in front of him. “You’ve got to admit he’s cute!” I said, facing Drake.

  Drake studied the dog a moment longer before his frown softened. “I am pleased that my presence does not daunt him.”

  “That’s a good point,” I said as I faced the dog with renewed interest. “Most animals are terrified of spirits.”

  “Daschel’s not afraid of anything!” Maggie chimed in. “He’s perfect!”

  I stroked the dog’s fur, checking for fleas, but there were none to be found. Sitting up, he walked inside the house with the confident air of a king surveying his kingdom. I was curious to know what other breeds he had in his ancestry since he was a medium sized dog, I’d say. He had short, stubby legs and a pert tail that curled up into a question mark, as if to underscore the mystery of his origin.

  “He’s already acting like he owns the place!” Maggie said with a smile. “Peyton, you just have to keep him!”

  I was quiet for a few more seconds before I had to admit Maggie was right. There was no way I could turn the little guy out. Not when he needed a home and I had the room. “I’ll text Ryan and send him a picture.”

  After I did that, I received three texts in a row from Ryan wanting to know why we were bringing a strange dog into the house and how we expected to care for it.

  “Le barbare could show more interest in the animal’s well-being,” Drake said.

  I glanced at him and shook my head. “Really, Drake? Weren’t you just trying to talk me out of adopting the dog only a few minutes ago?”

  “That was before I bonded with the noble creature,” Drake replied staunchly. I had yet to see any bonding between the dog and the ghost.

  My phone continued to buzz so I glanced down and noticed Ryan texted again:

  Apart from the costs involved, he said, who’s going to watch it when you travel? Half the time we’re not even here!

  Need I remind you? You have two dogs. I texted back.

  Yes, and it’s a lot of work trying to find someone to take care of them when I’m gone. You really need to think this one through more, Pey.

  Ryan had an endearing streak of pragmatism that always manifested at the start of new ventures, but this time that pragmatism was annoying. Furthermore, I knew he’d change his mind once he met Daschel.

  Just wait until you meet him, I wrote back. When you do, you’ll love him.

  By now the dog was already sitting obediently in front of the pantry, as if he knew where I kept the food. Maggie stood in front of him, her hand raised to see how high he could jump (as high as her head! it turned out).

  “Ryan and I will pick up some dog food tonight when we’re out,” I said. “But for now, he can have some of the bacon we bought last night.”

  “I’ve never heard of feeding a dog bacon,” said Maggie, frowning.

  “Well, it’s not like he’s a vegan, right?” I asked and the dog barked his agreement.

  Chapter Three

  After a light brunch of stir-fried tofu for Maggie, a muffaletta sandwich for me, nothing for Drake, and chicken breast with bacon for Daschel, the four of us drifted upstairs to the storage room. Surveying the scene I saw before me, it was pretty remarkable Maggie could manage to locate a single item of interest amid the sprawl that surrounded us. The fortune-teller’s orb lay on the floor near the door, resting against an armoire. A series of mysterious scratching noises had been echoing from there since I moved in. Ryan said it was probably a rat, so I refused to open it, unwilling to take any chances. Maggie eyed it warily and stayed close to me.

  “That thing was making noises the whole time I was up here,” she said and I decided to ignore her admission to being up here. No reason to bring up a tired, old conversation. I was more than sure she learned her lesson and would be more responsible moving forward.

  I nodded. “Ryan thinks a rat is living inside it.”

  She looked at me with wide eyes. “Yeah, but it’s not a rat.”

  “I know.”

  Neither of us said anything more as we edged further into the room, taking note of the various boxes and furniture lining either side of the walls. Not surprisingly, Daschel stood at the entry of the room and whined at us.

  “Come on, boy,” Maggie said as she slapped her thigh to get him to come to her.

  “Nothing can persuade him to come in here,” I said as I watched the dog pacing back and forth as he continued to whine and stare at us with wide, fearful eyes.

  “Why?”

  “He senses the spiritual energy in here and not all of it is good. In fact, a lot of it probably isn’t.”

  Maggie frowned as she looked at the dog who was still obviously uneasy. “But he wasn’t afraid of Drake.”

  I nodded. “Drake is good spiritual energy.”

  Maggie gulped hard and clutched the notebook she was carrying even tighter. I stood in the center of the room and glanced around, trying to take stock of everything. Then I sighed.

  “This is obviously going to take us at least a day to finish,” I said. I was certainly not looking forward to the task as I added, “And you’re welcome to bail any time. “What else am I going to do?”

  I looked at her and smiled, wondering if she’d be singing the same tune after spending a few hours up here. Spiritual items have a nasty way of taxing your energy.

  “I’m hoping I can learn more about the occult and this seems like a good way to learn,” she replied nervously, darting glances around the room as if she thought something could leap out at her. Perhaps, she was right.

  “Then can we agree on one thing?”

  She faced me and nodded. “I’ve already agreed to make amends with Drake.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “What do you mean then?”

  “If I agree to let you help me sort through all this crap and teach you about the various items and their history and backgrounds, it can never leave this room. The last thing I’d want is for your mom to find out and start ripping me a new one.”

  “The last person I would ever talk to about any of this is my mom!” Maggie assured me as she shook her head. “Trust me.” I believed her.

  “Okay, pinky swear.”

  We pinky swore.

  “I feel like I haven’t stopped learning since I got here.”

  “Well, the first thing to always keep in mind when dealing with anything involved with the paranormal is this: everything demands your respect,” I started, trying not to sound like a pedantic teacher if I was.

  “Respect?” Maggie repeated. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, that we don’t understand many mysteries about the other side so don’t act like you do. It’s not a good idea to play with stuff you know nothing about. Bad things can come as a result of it.” I eyed the Ouija Board that Ryan’s sister, Trina, used with me one night to contact the dead and told Maggie what happened. “Case in point.”

  “What’s that?” she asked as she followed the direction of my finger. “A Ouija Board?”

  “Yep, and one that I stupidly used with Ryan’s sister and ended up summoning a demon who murdered a bunch of people in New Orleans in the early 1900s. He was called the Axeman.”

  Maggie nodded. “You mean, the spirit you and Ryan’s sister summoned was actually The Axeman?”

  “Yep, the very same one.”

  “Oh, my God,” Maggie said as she stared at the Ouija Board with a newfound sense of dread and awe. Then she gulped. “I haven’t met Ryan’s sister… does that mean… she’s no longer with us?”

  I laughed as I shook my head. “No, Trina is still very much alive. She just took a job in Tennessee a few months back so we haven’t seen her lately.”

  “Phew,” Maggie said as she exhaled. Then she started glancing around herself again and the worry returned to her expression. She looked up at me. “I swear I won’t ever come up here alone again and I definitely won’t touch anything.” She glanced around as she grew more nervous. “The truth is: I’m glad I didn’t do anything… you know, accidentally. It could have turned out bad.”

  “You and me both!” I pulled the tarp off a wide mahogany cabinet with brass locks that must have been standing there since the house was originally built. A second or so later, Drake materialized in front of it.

  “Any idea what this is, or what’s inside it?” I asked him. “It looks like it’s been here for a while.”

  “All of these items came from your Great Aunt Myra, thus you should know more about them than I.” He shook his head, looking faintly (but insincerely) bored with the whole proceeding. He grimaced at it. “Quite an ugly thing it is.”

  “Just because my aunt acquired them, doesn’t mean I should know what they are!” I argued back. “Besides, you were here the whole time she was—you’d think you’d remember some of the specifics!”

  “I must admit my interests lie elsewhere.”

  I shook my head and frowned at him. “You strangely have no appreciation for antiques whatsoever.”

  “Perhaps because they are not antiques to me! You forget I was alive during their fabrication.”

  “Maybe,” I answered as I noticed Maggie standing in front of the cabinet and admiring it.

  “Should we look inside?” she asked.

  I nodded and pulled on the latch. The double doors swung open with a wave of dust that was thick in the air. Inside, three shelves contained an assortment of knick-knacks, none of which seemed very interesting. I glanced back at Maggie and motioned to the notebook in her hands.

  “I would not recommend opening and inspecting every item you come across, ma minette,” said Drake. “As you may recall, many of these items are enchanted… and not in a good way.”

  “We’ll be careful,” Maggie said, passing through him to get to a stack of boxes. He jumped aside, trying to dodge her, but he was too late.

  “And you should show them more respect, l’ enfant.”

  I helped her pull down a box at the top of the pile that contained decks of tarot cards. She opened the spiral notebook I’d given her for cataloguing purposes and began writing down the name of each deck, opening them to see if any cards were missing. I turned my attention to the next box, which was filled with books—spellbooks, some of them ancient. The hardened edges of their pages were almost flaking away. I set the box aside.

 

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