Page 62 of Ghost Walk
“Just today, as a matter of fact.” Grace was still pissed that Serenity hadn’t mentioned that guy before. “Apparently, he settled in the Crusades and saved some serfs from a fire. It was a whole big thing.”
“That a fact?” Loyal chewed on his corncob pipe and made a considering face. “Man could dance one hell of a Virginia reel.” He wore a banyan robe, pattered with spooky black cats, and a lopsided negligé cap. It was the eighteen century version of leisure wear. In the modern world, he probably would’ve been decked out in a t-shirt from some failed truck stop and boxer shorts.
Grace made a vague sound of agreement. “So what kind of potion will stop someone from killing Anabel Maxwell tonight?” She prompted, trying to get the conversation back on track. “There has to be a potion, right?”
When magic was needed, potions were always Grace’s first choice.
It was why she was willing to use one to transfer Jamie’s memories. In high school, she’d only passed Geometry by drinking Serenity’s noxious mixture of rosewater, cabbage leaves, and catfish scales. Hell if she knew how it worked, but she’d somehow gotten a B in that class and she could barely tell a triangle from an oval. Potions were the most kinda-normal type of magic and not even she could argue with their success rate.
“I’m sure I can whip something up.” Loyal assured her nonchalantly. He was a pudgy, bespectacled man who bore an uncanny resemblance to a younger Benjamin Franklin. …Except for the fact that his cap was embroidered with the words “Suck it, bitches.” “Is Agatha alive or dead? If she’s dead, we’ll need different ingredients and whatever.”
“Anabelis alive and I’m trying to keep her that way.” Grace had explained that about ten times now. Loyal had a focusing issue. He couldn’t even keep Anabel’s name straight.
Although if Anabel Maxwell didn’t die, Grace would bea crime scene investigator with no crime scene to investigate. Also, she was pretty sure she’d be stuck in 1789 unless she found a drop of Anabel’s blood to touch. That could be awkward, since she had no money and already missed indoor plumbing.
“Alrighty then, let me check the ol’ books.” Loyal hauled himself to his feet and headed over to the bookcase. “Maybe we can do a protection spell for ya.”
It occurred to Grace that his speech patterns had definitely been effected by his time traveling visitors. No one of this era should be using modern slang. With good reason. History would have been so different if Patrick Henry’s speech had been something like, “Alrighty then, give me liberty, death or whatever, bitches.”
She sighed and hoped for the best. Luckily, half of the ancient tomes on the shelf were the same ones in the shop back home and sheknewthose worked. In fact, everything in the Crystal Ball looked exactly the same. The wood was less worn and the creepy knickknacks weredifferentcreepy knickknacks, but the essence of the place remained unchanged. There was something kind of awesome about that. As much as her relatives aggravated her sometimes and as God-awful as they were at running their business, Grace was proud of the fact that they had owned their shop longer than America had even been a nation. It said so much about their skills and intelligence.
All evidence to the contrary.
“A spell?” She repeated, thinking over his suggestion. “Isn’t there a potion? Spells always seem to go wrong.”
Loyal ignored that. “Here we go.” He dropped a thick volume onto the table, sending up a wave of dust. “Not a protection spell, but it’ll do for ya. This one reveals bad intentions.”
“That does sound promising.” Grace admitted and hurried over to join him at the table. “It’ll show us who the murderer is?”
“No, but it’ll ferret out anybody with a grudge againstAgatha.”
“Anabel.”
“Anabel. Right. Right.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “You can get a bead on who hates the girl.”
“Good.” Grace would take what she could get. “Cast it. I’m going to spy on her and…” Her words stopped short, as the door to the shop slammed open and a pissed off pirate stalked in.
Jamie.
“Thereyou are.” He snapped, his eyes settling on her.
Grace’s heart leapt happily at the sight of him. “Do you remember me yet?” She asked excitedly.
“I remember that this is your family’s shop, so I assumed this is where you would turn up. And I sure ashellremember that you left me standing bloody naked on the deck of my bloody ship!”
“Oh.” Grace struggled to hide her disappointment. The memory potion hadn’t kicked in yet. Or maybe Serenity’s magic didn’t work in this century. Who knew how time travel crap worked?
Loyal squinted at Jamie over the top of his half-lens. “Friend of yours, Gracie?”
“I’m going to be her husband.” Jamie answered, as if that was even remotely true. Apparently he hadn’t been kidding about pirates refusing toaskfor a girl’s hand, because his idea of a proposal was more like a command. He ignored the glare Grace sent his way and arched a brow at Loyal. “Are you her kin?”
“Somehow or other.” Loyal seesawed his hand back and forth, a serious expression on his face. “It’s a bit of a fluid situation, but I’m sure we sharesomeDNA.”
“Right.” Jamie clearly didn’t care to hear any details about their family tree or ask what in the world DNA was. The pirate had bigger fish to fry. “Who do I see about permission to marry her, then?”
“We can’t get married, Jamie.” If she was actually from this century, though, she’d be a lot less certain of that denial. Obviously he’d have to cough up one heck of adiamond, but what other guy couldeverlive up to this one?
He shot her a fuming look. It seemed that leaving him naked on the ship really had hurt his feelings. “Are you promised to another?”
