Trissa rolls her lips and makes a popping noise before saying, “While I can admit that’s not super awesome, it still doesn’t sound allthatbad.”
Seth sighs dejectedly, “That’s not the worst part.”
Trissa and I both stare at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He looks back and forth between us for a moment before hisshoulders sag and he rubs a hand down his face. “Someone died.”
I gape at him and Trissa rasps, “What?”
He grimaces as he explains, “I… may have said something about being tall, dark, anddeathlyhandsome… it was barely even funny. There was an older woman eating a cannoli at one of the tables by the shop window…” Seth pauses and I hum, encouraging him to keep going. “She had just taken a bite—too big of a bite if we’re being honest—when Eleanor, the witch, let out one of thoselethallaughs. Poor Sybil, the older woman, choked on her cannoli right there in the coffee shop.”
Trissa’s eyes widen and she mumbles something under her breath. I try to think of something to say, but Seth continues, “Glamours sometimes fail when a paranormal is in close proximity to a human in severe distress or ready to punch in their timecard. Especially if a psychopomp is around and a Reaping Timer appears.” Seth flicks his eyes over to Trissa's confused face and elaborates, "It's like a neon clock that counts down time remaining until a soul can be harvested."
“Fuck,” the word is out before I can stop it.
Seth nods, “Yeah, fuck. That’s what I said when the shop owner, Oliver—a nice Squonk male—rushed over to administer the Heimlich. I think you can probably guess where this is going…”
I flinch, never having seen an unglamoured Squonk in person, but feeling bad for Oliver, and knowing now that whatever happens next is not going to be pleasant.
“I can’t! What the heck is a Squonk?” Trissa’s eyes are as wide as saucers. I look back at Seth who has a pained expression on his usually laughing face.
“A cryptid… not known for their good looks. They cry a lot, usually. Oliver is different, he’s been pretty happy since he got his new glamour and opened the coffee shop…” Seth shakes hishead again, “Anyway, long story short… our glamours failed. Sybil took one look at Oliver and me and had a fuckin heart attack right on the spot. Eleanor, it turns out, also laughs when faced with awkward situations, or when nervous…”
“Oh gods…” Trissa’s face is scrunched up in a semi-permanent cringe.
Seth nods miserably. “Yup. Oliver had to close up shop so that I could harvest her soul and make a report to the Reapers Guild.” Trissa stands up and tentatively places a hand on his shoulder in a show of support. “Do you know how hard it is to get Squonk tears out of alpaca wool?” He sighs heavily and adds, “One date—two casualties.”
My mouth drops open. Trissa groans and swats at his arm, “Oh my lanta! You ass… was any of that even true?”
“It was all true, thank you very much. I hardly knew Sybil. That was my favorite sweater, damn it!”
Trissa rolls her eyes heavily and I snicker, more at their antics than the situation. “Okay, you’re right. That is definitely theworst,worst date ever.”
We all nod and stand there for a minute. Trissa breaks the silence with a deep sigh, “Well… did you want to stay for pizza?” She eyes Seth dubiously, as if wondering if he actually eats foods like pizza. I look over at him, curious myself.
His face lights up and his eyes flash, “Hell yeah!” I smile and settle back as Trissa grabs her phone and plops down next to me.
Seth eagerly flops onto the couch in between us, placing an arm along the back behind each of us. “Ham and Swedish fish for me, please.”
Trissa’s lip curls instantly, but quickly fades into a pucker as if she’s silently debating the merits of that flavor combination.
“Gross, but alright.” She leans back into the couch and smiles at me as she calls it in. I tighten the tentacle tether I have wrapped around her ankle in response.
Leaning back further, I listen and grin as Seth and Trissa discuss odd pizza topping combinations. It’s amazing how fast things can change.
Chapter twenty-four
Shear Torture
Trissa
Astrange scratching sound pulls me from sleep. I lay still on the couch for a minute, staring up at the ceiling and squinting to concentrate on the noise, but don’t hear it again. Maybe it was just a dream? I rub my eyes to try and clear the sleep and brain fog. Seth stayed for pizza and we ended up playing some special board game he got from a shop that caters to the paranormal calledGuess, Boo! Basically it’s Guess Who, but with famous dead people who are, apparently, ghosts now. Seth kicked our asses, but to be fair, it was wildly unbalanced considering he’s the only one who really knows anything about the paranormal world outside of our house.Our house.A little bolt of pleasure shoots through me at the reminder that this is my reality now. A life with a hot ghost boyfriend who can conjure sex tentacles… not to mention being friends with the friggen grim reaper. Although, apparently he’s not the only one—there’s a whole guild of them.
It’s too much to wrap my mind around really. I’m thankful for the smaller, mundane things that help keep me grounded in themidst of all this crazy. Like Cian being able to actually eat pizza—and after not tasting food for half a century the moan that he let out haddrenchedmy panties. A flush heats my cheeks as I remember what happened after Seth finally left for the night. I’ll never look at that kitchen island or chocolate sauce and whip cream the same again.
A muffled curse comes from the front porch and my eyes widen. I definitely heard something that time. I glance down and spot Cian on the floor, sleeping soundly. My eyes trace the path of the tentacle that’s currently wrapped around my ankle and I bite my lip. Should I wake him up?
The scratching noise from before gets louder and I sit up on the couch, careful not to dislodge Cian’s tentacle tether. Someone is definitely out there. I lean down to shake Cian awake, but freeze… Is that? I sniff the air.
My stomach drops and I leap to my feet in a panic, rushing toward the door in the kitchen. The tentacle stretches to follow me and I sigh in short lived relief. The smell of gasoline grows stronger as I reach the door and an overwhelming dread settles over me.
