I feel the blood drain from my face. “What? What do you mean?” I’d never heard of this Dominic person before today. How can he know about me?
“When I told him where I was staying, he implied that this place was haunted. He didn’t mention your name specifically, but it didn’t seem like it was news, either. That this house is filled with old ghosts.”
Ghosts, plural? That’s not good.
“It’s just you here, right?” Natalie asks with a teasing grin. “Don’t tell me there are more of you.”
I laugh, trying to mask how uncomfortable I am. “Just me in here,” emphasizing theinand telling myself it wasn’t a total lie. She doesn’t need to know the truth yet. It would overwhelm her.
She puts the sandwich in the fridge and the chips back in the cupboard. “Well, that was probably the least batshit thing Dominic told me today. Did you know this town is filled with monsters?”
“Monsters? You mean those modern Nazis? Penelope never mentioned encountering them when she went into town.”
“Ugh, no,” she says with a look of sheer disgust. “Can you imagine? No, I’m talking about vampires, gargoyles, zombies––monsters of the mythical variety.”
“Natalie,” I say in a gentle tone, “those creatures do not exist.” I don’t mean to sound patronizing, but she can’t seriously believe this nonsense, can she? I’m sure drop-dead gorgeous Dominic can be convincing when he wants, but I’d hope she could see through such preposterousness.
“Winston.” Her tone matches mine, but it’s clearly mocking. “You’re a ghost, babe. You shouldn’t exist, either. Yet here you are.”
I ignore the heat that races to the top of my ears, and other places, upon hearing the pet name, and consider her main point. Before I became a ghost, I certainly didn’t believe they existed. “Did you see these mythical creatures with your own eyes?”
My roommate nods, her eyes wide. “One of the regulars is a vampire. He looks like your average old man, but Dominic was serving him glasses of type A blood. He even flashed me a fang at one point.”
A vampire? A blood-sucking vampire lives in Mapletown? How is this possible?
“Dominic is a zombie,” she adds. “He doesn’t eat human brains. He was adamant about that. Apparently, raw meat is his sustenance of choice, and not human meat. He also doesn’t have any rotting parts that I could see, and there aren’t any issues with his speech.”
Pity. I was hoping his body would be rife with decay, but then, Natalie probably wouldn’t deem him “underwear model hot” if that were the case.
“But how?” I ask, still baffled by this information. “Penelope never said anything about this.”
She holds up her hands. “No idea if Penelope knew or why she chose not to tell you, but it’s true. Dominic said Mapletown is protected territory, meaning it doesn’t show up on any maps. I guess some witch from a hundred-some-odd years ago put a spell on the town, protecting it from outsiders, making it a haven for those who don’t feel like they belong in the human world. You can only enter if you’re invited or if you have an ancestral link to one of the many breeds of monster that live here. I don’t know what that says about Penelope or Lindsay, but I was invited in, so that answers that.”
A witch from a hundred years ago? “Did you get the name of this witch?”
She scrunches her nose, deep in thought. “Uh, Martha Crane, I think he said.”
“Martha Crane?” I bark out a surprised laugh. She lived two doors down from the shoemaker’s shop, where I worked before I married Susanna. She was an odd, gangly thing. A timid girl who only ever spoke to birds and stray cats. I suppose it makes sense that she had mystical abilities. “Huh.”
Natalie opens the fridge and pours herself another glass of water. “You knew her?”
“I did. She was younger than me by about fifteen years, but I remember her. The town wasn’t heavily populated when Iwas alive. There were maybe three hundred people here.” I sigh heavily. “A lot has changed since then.”
“You never float down to Main Street just to see the sights? People watch?”
Suddenly I feel heavy, as if there are cement blocks chained to my feet. “I can’t.” My voice is barely a whisper. “I can’t leave the grounds. My spirit is…stuck here.”
“Oh.”
There’s that look of pity again. It makes my skin crawl and my blood heat with rage. The last thing I want from Natalie is pity. It makes me feel like I’m an inch tall. “Well,” I say, clearing my throat, “congrats on the job. I have things I must attend to. Goodnight, Natalie.”
I don’t look at her. I can’t. Her gaze follows me out of the room. I can feel it. Pity is thick in her voice when she replies, “Goodnight, Winston.”
I was given a chance to leave this plane of existence not long after my death. To go wherever one goes after they die. Not once have I longed for another opportunity. Until now.
Chapter 9
Natalie
