Page 11 of Ghoul Me, Maybe
And to her credit, doesn’t throw the book at my head.
“Well, well,” she says, dragging the words out like taffy. “If it isn’t the girl who vanished mid-bonfire and never called again.”
“Hi, Mira,” I say. My voice sounds small. I hate that.
She closes the book. Doesn’t smile. “You here for a potion or an apology?”
“Neither,” I say. “I need information.”
She barks out a laugh. “Still charming as ever. What kind of information?”
I pull the coin from my pocket and toss it on the counter. It lands with a wet clink. Mira looks at it. Then at me.
She doesn’t pick it up.
“That come out of Wrecker’s Bay?” she asks, voice suddenly serious.
I nod.
“You touched it?”
I nod again.
She sighs. Loud and annoyed. “Of course you did.”
“I didn’t exactly have a manual.”
“Well, you’ve got me now,” she mutters, reaching for the coin with a pair of iron tongs. She drops it onto a ceramic plate like it’s radioactive.
I watch her as she rifles through drawers, pulls out a magnifying glass, a bottle of salt, and—of course—a deck of tarot cards.
“I’m not here for a reading.”
“It’s not for you,” she says. “It’s for the energy.”
“The energy.”
“Don’t make that face. Just let me work.”
She lights a candle, sprinkles salt around the plate, and hums under her breath. It’s a lullaby. One I remember. Her nana used to sing it during storms.
“Still doing your cryptid blog?” I ask, just to fill the silence.
She snorts. “It’s a magical artifact vlog now. And yes, still monetized. Thank you very much.”
I smile to myself.
She doesn’t smile back.
After a minute, she sits down and stares at me. “This coin’s old. Older than the wreck. Maybe fae-forged. The symbol’s alchemical. Relic magic. Binding stuff.”
“What’s it binding?”
She hesitates. “You, maybe. Him.”
“Him?”
“The ghost. You saw him, didn’t you?”
