“Yep. Trying to go out with a bang of performances.” I sipped the newly poured coffee and gagged. This coffee was disgusting. I should have placed my hand over the cup when she came by.
“Here. Try my tea.” Selene pushed her cup over toward me, completely trusting.
My fingers brushed hers as I gently pulled the cup over to me and raised it to my lips. It was good, despite not having the same kick that fresh coffee gave me.
“I can see why these murders are upsetting you in more ways than one,” she admitted, tucking her hair behind her left ear. She wasn’t the type of beautiful woman I’d been with before. She was normal and real, while the others were fake and wanted to be around me because of my notoriety as a magician. They had sculpted bodies from hours at the gym or a surgeon, money-hungry, fame-seekers and cold personalities, like their passionless one-night stands.
“It’s not really how I want my show being remembered after I’m gone.” I hated to say I, because these women’s deaths should be about them, but I couldn’t help the way I felt.
“Do you think anyone is purposely doing this to screw up your show? A disgruntled performer or a jealous one because you’re getting this life when theirs has ended?”
I wasn’t sure.
“Not that I know of. All my performers are happy to hold up their end of the bargain, since I am ending the curse with them, so they can finally leave this place. I don’t know why any of them would do anything to anger me.”
“OK, what about them having the ability to actually kill someone when you’re around? I know souls can’t do that normally or at least none that I have come by except . . .” Her face lit up like she’d just figured out something in her head, then her eyes narrowed at me, a conclusion to a mystery I didn’t know anything about.
“Someone pushed me down the hill behind your house to the cemetery. I heard laughter and distinctly felt hands push me.”
Surrounded by so many ghosts at home drained me after a while, and I never gave them power when I was there. It was against my rules. It created jealousy and rage, and in their excitement someone usually did a lot of damage. I told Selene as much but I wasn’t sure if she believed me.
“I know someone pushed me.” Her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth as she thought to herself intensely, trying to think of any more clues.
“I believe you. I’m just unsure how that can be true. I am very strict at home. I think that’s why my crew like that I am doing this before my end. They get to perform and live again for a few nights. Ralphie gets to feel his elephant’s skin and hug him. The trapeze artists feel the energy of the excited crowd.”
I hadn’t noticed how passionate I was coming off until I noticed Selene intently paying attention to me.
“We’ll figure this out. You, me, the Seahill police, and the Hero Society are on it, too.”
“I hope so.”
A sense of foreboding wiggled its way beneath my skin. Something was different. Not just the feeling in the air as the cold began to settle in Seahill . . . fall was not the only thing changing the world around us. I looked at Selene and I knew I needed to end whatever was happening before it went any further. The police, the newspaper, and the Hero Society would find the murderer.
“What?” Pink blush coated her cheeks. My mouth opened to speak, to say that I wished her luck on the case and if she needed anything to give me a call, but then she smiled a soft smile like a girl who had a crush.
Fuck, I didn’t need this, but I wanted it.
“Nothing. I just think everything is going to be OK.”
“It will be,” she agreed and took her tea back and lifted it to her perfect light-pink lips.
Chapter Twelve
Selene
Jude and I left the diner late last night, and I still can’t believe all the deep information we told each other. Holy hell. His family curse and the fact he has to die to keep the gates sealed, holding back the dead. I even ended up telling him some of my story, about Travis and when I’d gone crazy from not using my powers. He officially knew more about me than anyone, and we’d only known each other for a very short time.
I woke up a little on edge in my head. Maybe it was being around souls so much lately, but the buzz beneath my skin drove me crazy. My thoughts had turned toward the dark, and I couldn’t find the will to do anything besides get out of bed for some tea, pee, then get back into bed.
I was grateful I could work from home and did most of the time so I didn’t need to fake a smile to anyone today. It wasn’t that I had a bad life. Even with my past and my powers, I was still living and doing good. But that’s the thing about depression. Somedays it wins, and you need to let it. You need to rest and feel what you’re feeling. I’d been to therapy, I’d taken the meds, and what seemed to help me the most was to let it win one day, then push myself back to normal activities the next day. It gave me a deadline for my feelings, and I focused on that instead of feeling like it would never end.
This had worked for me for years to get out of my real lows, but it wasn’t for everyone. I wish there was a magic button that cured mental illness, but there wasn’t. So today, I read a little from a romance novel I’d been peeking at on my shelf, slept, and watched a show about a witch on TV.
Every once in a while, my thoughts drifted back to Jude. Maybe it was his story that had me falling down the rabbit hole of darkness today, or maybe it was just my time.
I really had enjoyed his show, watching his face light up when he talked about his performance. He told me more about some of his people and their ghost animals that were allowed to move on to where animals go but chose to stay because they loved their caretakers too much. I could see how he appeared to be standoffish in many ways, like he didn’t know how to deal with the living. He had been raised by ghosts, his only friends were ghosts, and from what I could tell, the women he had been with for very short moments in his history were nothing more than warm-blooded ghosts.
My parents loved me. They didn’t quite know what to do with me when I hit my lows, but they were still there for me. Mom would visit as often as she could when I’d been institutionalized, and Dad would always bring me fresh-cooked dinners when allowed.
