He stared at the burnt end of his smoke. “There’s a spirit that I need you to track down.”
That was a first. “You’re a ghost who needs me to find another ghost. This is classic and not in a good sort of way. Maybe you should find someone else. I’m not interested in working for you.”
I moved to shoo Lucky right on out the door when he lifted his hand, stopping me. “Oh, you’ll be interested once you know who it is.”
I sighed. This ghost wouldn’t leave me in peace until he said what he’d come to. “All right. Who is it?”
“Why, Blissful, it’s someone you’d love to see again.”
I rubbed my head. The waiting game was getting on my last nerve. As much as I adored hunting ghosts, I did actually want to return to doing a little Christmas decorating.
“Just tell me,” I snarled.
“You got it. The spirit I need you to find is your father—Vince Breneaux.”
Chapter 2
“I’m sorry—what did you say?”
Surely I’d heard Lucky Strike wrong. Surely he had not just barged into the inn and asked me to track down the spirit of my deceased father.
Lucky floated over to a stool and sat, hovering above it. He shot Susan a flirtatious glance. “Looking good, Susie.”
Susie?
She batted her lashes at him. “You always did know the right thing to say to a girl.”
Sure he did.
I cleared my throat. “Lucky? We were talking?”
His attention fixed back on me. “Your father has escaped heaven, it seems.”
“How exactly does one do that?”
“Just like I did. You leave.”
That did not answer my question. Perhaps I needed to ask a better question, one that was more direct. “Butwhyhas he left?”
Lucky sucked on his cigarette. His eyes took on a rather blissful (excuse the pun) look as he held the smoke for a few seconds before letting it release into the air. Since this was ghost smoke, there was no acrid scent. There was also no risk of getting cancer from secondhand inhaling.
“Vince Breneaux left heaven because he owes me.”
“What exactly does he owe you?”
“That is none of your business.”
I scoffed. “I don’t work for anybody unless I know what the deal is; you should know that. Besides, I’ve never taken a job from a spirit. What exactly will be your payment?”
“How about a ghost gift?”
“You don’t have any of those left,” I said. “Remember? You gave me your last one ages ago.”
He coughed into his hand. “I might have been fibbing a little. I have one left, and it’s just for you,” he crooned.
A fissure of desire raked up my spine. Ghost gifts were literally the best perk about my job. Ghosts only handed them out sparingly and they were only allowed to bestow five gifts on mortals, so when a spirit offered to give one, it was a pretty big deal.
Those gifts were the reason I had violet-colored hair and an invisible mark on my hand that let other ghosts know that I was okay, that I could be trusted.
