Page 11 of Tall, Dark and Haunted

Chapter Six

Davy

Ilungeforwardto cover Rhiannon and face-plant again. Well, this is embarrassing…

Luckily for me, she manages to grab the coat and wrap it around herself without my help. Then she glances at me.

She’d probably never believe me, but back in my day, I was the height of fashion and grace. Men copied me. Tried to emulate me. Because I was a dandy—a rare creature who looked so elegant and refined that people literally stopped and stared in the street. Women, too. I could have my pick back then. I was a swell of the first stare. The pinkest of the pinks.

But the world has changed since my death. I’ve watched enough moving pictures over the castle night guard’s shoulder to know how much. Hell, I even know how to talk like the people in my favorite shows and movies. But sometimes I just can’t help myself and I fall back into the old-fashioned speech of Victorian England.

A swell of the first stare. The pinkest of the pinks. I sigh. Of all the people streaming into the castle and staring at me, none are doing so in appreciation. The whole thing has my ears actually turning pink.

It’s not that I’m a particularly vain sort of person. Well, no more vain than Topher or Red. It wasn’t so bad when we were invisible. At least no one else knew how far behind the times we’d fallen. Years passed. Sideburns went out of fashion. Fabrics changed. Top hats became a thing of the past. And all the while, the guys and I stayed the same.

Now that we’re most definitely visible, it’s embarrassing. Especially since our usually peaceful castle is bustling with people. I’ve never seen so many gracing the halls of Margam at one time—not before I died, nor after. It feels like everyone within miles has made their way into the entrance hall.

“Get a message to the mayor,” a woman, whose gray trouser suit and attitude tell me she’s likely someone important, says brusquely to her assistant.

Her scent is masked by pumpkin, but I can still tell she’s a dragon shifter. I also realize she doesn’t sound Welsh—her accent is American—which would make sense if we really are in Silver Springs.

The town streets are visible through the castle window—a window that used to look out over the estate. And the guard has pulled this town up enough times on Screech for me to recognize it on sight. And to know that it’s home to many supernaturals—shifters, witches, and the like. Like our shifter sanctuary, but bigger. I’d wished I could see it for myself, and I feel a wave of excitement now that I’m here.

“Deputy Mayor, miss, I’m so sorry. I can’t reach the mayor,” the dragon shifter’s assistant splutters nervously, typing something into her phone. “I’ve just sent a text and an email, too.”

“Then make sure the paramedics are on their way. And lots of them. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many elderly people in one place. This is a lawsuit just waiting to happen,” the deputy mayor snaps. “And I want to know within the hour how the castle ended up here.”

“The hour?” Her assistant stops typing on her phone momentarily, looking up with a grim expression on her face.

“Yes. Within the hour. Get the police and coven on the case.” She makes a strange clicking sound with her tongue before striding forward, eyes landing on Rhiannon. “And somebody get that girl some clothes. We can’t have a half-naked woman running around town.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” a tall, dark-haired man with square glasses mutters.

The deputy mayor shoots him a dirty look, and he shifts into a block of ice. Not the oddest thing to have happened today, to be sure.

“Don’t worry, folks.” The deputy mayor turns back towards the crowd that is gathering in the doorway. “We’ll have all of this sorted out in no time.”

“That’s what the mayor said when that old dragon shifter destroyed the Christmas Lights Celebration,” a Yeti in a hockey jersey protests.

“I promise you, we have everything under control,” the deputy mayor replies, her nostrils flaring slightly.

“Do we need visas, Miss Lee?” a dark-haired, slender woman asks the deputy mayor.

She’s wearing a baggy t-shirt and a pair of holey jeans, exposing a good amount of thigh. If it was still the nineteenth century, I’d be scandalized by her appearance. However, after years as a ghost, I’ve become quite accustomed to seeing more than a mere dainty ankle. And I know that if anyone’s outfit is scandalizing, it’s mine, and for a whole other reason.

“Excuse me? What are you talking about, Kit?” The deputy mayor looks utterly befuddled for a moment.

“Seeing as how the town is all of a sudden in Wales,” Kit explains, one eyebrow raised.

“Wales?” The deputy mayor’s eyes nearly bug out, and she starts typing furiously on her phone. “The one time the mayor isn’t here, and we end up in Wales?”

“We’re in Silver Springs,” I tell her with a gesture out the window.

The guys and Rhiannon look as confused as I feel.

“Silver Springs is in Wales,” Kit tells me.

“No, it isn’t.” I shake my head. “It’s in the United States of America. In the state of New York, to be precise.” A state I’d longed to visit during my years as a ghost.