I raised an eyebrow. “Let’s…maybe not start with that one.”
She laughed—a low, throaty sound—and pulled down a tin with a label covered in tiny gold stars. “Chamomile it is.”
She filled the kettle and set it down on the stovetop, humming softly to herself. Morgana leapt onto the counter to curl beside the sugar jar, blinking at me with those strange green eyes.
“Have you eaten?” Delilah asked as she puttered around in the kitchen. “Beau didn’t say.”
My stomach grumbled on cue and I shook my head. “Didn’t really have time for it when I was getting stranded in the strangest town in the south.”
Delilah looked back at me with a raised eyebrow. “Ah…so she’shangry, not just a grump.”
I scowled. “No…I’m kind of just a grump.”
She opened up her fridge, the blue light silhouetting her like an ancient priestess overseeing a frozen wasteland—if that wasteland was occupied mostly by takeout boxes. “I’ve got leftover tikka masala, mushroom pizza, and…hm. Hotpockets?”
“To go with the tea?” I asked.
She laughed. “Darlin’, this is a library attic, not the Hilton.”
I couldn’t help but laugh with her. “I’ll take some pizza.”
Delilah got to work—putting the tea on hold while she zapped some pizza in the microwave—and I sat down on the old couch that occupied the wall to my right. The cat, noticing that a lap was now available, slipped off the counter and made its way toward me, still purring like crazy. She didn’t ask beforeshe curled up on top of me, tail twitching like she was daring me to move.
“So,” Delilah said, turning around and leaning against the counter while she waited on the pizza. “You running from something?”
I blinked. “Um—excuse me?”
She shrugged. “Most people who show up here unexpectedly are either lost, cursed, or running.”
“No,” I said. “I was driving to a work thing. My car broke down. And now…well, I guess I’m stuck here, missing out on a paycheck, then heading home with empty pockets once my car is ready.”
Delilah tilted her head to one side. “Uh-huh.”
I had no idea what I’d said that made her so skeptical. “What?”
She laughed. “Just…you’ll be here longer than a week.”
It wasn’t a warning; she said it like she was delivering a fact. I let out a short, humorless laugh and leaned back into the couch, one hand resting lightly on the cat. Morgana purred, and I couldn’t resist getting just a little more comfortable. “You know that’s a very spooky thing to say to a stranger,” I said, but there was no bite in it.
The microwave beeped and Delilah turned to pull out the pizza. “We’re two spooky girls in a spooky town. I get the impression that kind of shit doesn’t rattle you.”
I smiled in spite of myself, the corner of my mouth tugging up as I scratched behind Morgana’s ears. “You’re not wrong.”
Delilah brought over the plate and handed it off like we’d been roommates for years, not strangers who’d just met thirty minutes ago. I took a bite—greasy, cheesy, with just enough heat left to make it worth the microwave wait—and let out a soft sigh. I hadn’t realized how hungry I’d been until the first taste hit mytongue.
She sat across from me in an armchair that had definitely seen better decades, folding her legs underneath her. “So what’s the work thing?”
I hesitated, not because it was a secret, but because saying it out loud always made it sound more ridiculous than I wanted it to.
“I run a podcast,” I said finally. “Paranormal stuff, mostly. Hauntings, cryptids, cults. My co-host and I were supposed to meet up in Atlanta for a live show at a con.”
Delilah’s eyes sparkled with interest. “No shit. What’s it called?”
“Whispers in the Dark.”
Delilah barked out a laugh. “Wait a second—you’rethatNoelle? Noelle Kinney.”
My heart sank. “You’re a listener?”
