Page 3 of Demons in My Bed
My middle finger flew up over my shoulder where I knew his ripped-off face was waiting. Always with the scare tactics, these ghosts. I wasn’t scared of them though, not anymore… Especially not tonight when there was work to be done.
“Bitch,” the ghost whispered in his gross, dead voice, earning an eye roll and another quick middle finger appearance.
“Yeah, I’m a bitch, and I have a job to do, so fuck. All. The. Way. Off.” Power surged beneath my fingertips, and with a little flick of my wrist, the spirit was blasted away. A shiver worked its way through my spine, and I reached into my matching leather bag, needing some Purell in the worst way. I didn’t know if ghosts carried germs, but with the way that one had been breathing on me, I wasn’t taking any chances.
Slow clapping had me glancing over to a nearby bench where another damn ghost was sitting. “Ugh,” I groaned. “What now?”
“That was pretty impressive. You did me a favor—I’ve been seeing that guy’s hideous face for way too long,” the ghost said.
I huffed. “Didn’t do it for you, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stay right where you are. Otherwise, I’ll do the same to you.”
He laughed and stood up. His form shimmered as he moved, like all ghosts. Some were more transparent than others though; I was pretty sure that was down to how long they’d been dead. The soul can’t hang on forever. This one though, he was a bit different in the way that I could actually make out his height. Ghosts were usually more fluid, kind of blob-like in their movements, which caused them to distort from super tall to very short in the blink of an eye. This guy’s form didn’t change shape. He was simply tall. His other features were too shimmery for me to make out though, which was the norm.
“Going to the big party across the street?” he asked, watching me closely.
“Maybe,” I replied, looking over to where he pointed.
“Brave girl.”
“Nosy ghost,” I fired back, and he chuckled. Why was he so damn chipper? He was dead. I decided I’d just ignore him for now. If he wanted to get pushy, I’d give him a good blast of magic and hopefully send his ass to the other side. “Snake, the invitation.” I popped the bottle of sanitizer back into my bag and waited for my familiar to scurry up my leg with the invite.
The ghost inhaled sharply. Not an uncommon reaction to my little buddy. “What the hellisthat thing?”
I ignored the ghost. “Good boy,” I praised, rubbing the half of Snake’s head that still had fur. Snake was a squirrel who’d met his untimely end after losing a fight with a snake. When I’d stumbled upon him with those twin snake bites in his neck, I couldn’t just leave him lying there. My original plan had been to bury him. Imagine how shocking it was when I went to place him in his little grave, and my magic seemed to latch onto him, bringing him back to life.
Up until that moment with Snake, I’d only ever been able to see ghosts, and sometimes interact with them. My mentor and guardian, Asrael, had always suspected I’d be able to reanimate bodies at some point if I continued pushing myself. Testing my magic to the limits of my sanity… and one day, it happened.
So here we are, Palmer Vale: Spirit Witch and her familiar, Snake: The Reanimated Squirrel. An unlikely duo, but holy fuck, have we seen some shit together.
I unrolled the invitation to reread it for the hundredth time.
There were so many questions, so many things wrong with this invitation, but I had to force all of them down because this was potentially my best shot to get close enough to them.
My eyes flicked across the street to where people were lined up to get through the door. Three huge bouncers were manning the door, but it seemed they were letting anyone in who approached, as long as they were dressed… appropriately.
Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the two masks I’d brought with me. One was a lacy, black, masquerade-style one that covered my eyes and nose. The other was a little more extravagant, with black bunny ears covered in little white, shiny gems.
“If you’re looking to make a statement, you have to go with those ears,” my unwanted, new friend advised me, indicating the more ornate mask with a tilt of his head.
I looked between the two options and tossed the lace mask down on the bench. Maybe some poor fucker could use it for something.
“Good choice.”
“I’m going now,” I snapped, annoyed. This was a big fucking deal, and I needed to focus—that was difficult to do with the ghosts of this shitstain city’s past floating around and harassing me.
Blocking out the ghost’s amused laughter, I took in the neon lights that glowed above the door, spelling out one word: Haunt. Bass boomed from within the club so loudly that my heartbeat pounded in rhythm all the way across the street. My fingers tapped against the knife that was strapped to my upper thigh, completely visible. There was no point in hiding weapons going into this lion’s den. If rumors were to be believed, we wouldn’t make it through the night without at least a few casualties.
“Okay, Snake, listen,” I said, holding out my palm for my friend to sit in. He scampered down my arm and obediently stared up at me, listening to every word out of my mouth. “This is what we’ve been working toward, okay? I’m going in alone, and you’re going to find your own way in through the ventilation ducts. Stay hidden unless I call for you. If you find anything that I need to be aware of, just give me a nudge. I don’t want anyone to know my affinity. At least, not yet. So we have to keep you hidden.”
Snake chittered—his way of saying he understood. He was a great asset to have if I ever needed to steal something small, plus he was incredibly nosy. My magic was what kept him alive, and it gave us a special mental connection, allowing us to let each other know if there was a problem. Or if he missed me, he’d sometimes give me a nudge hug, as I called them. Little tiny hands full of love, hugging me mentally. I wiped the dopey grin off my face and scowled at Snake, who appeared to be smiling knowingly.
“Shut up, Snake,” I hissed, and then I felt it. The nudge hug. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I griped before laughing as he jumped onto my chest, burying his little face against my neck. “Okay, yes, little nut prince, I’ll miss you too. See you soon.”
I put Snake on the ground, and he scampered over to a large tree, disappearing up into its branches. A quick glance at the bench had me relieved to see the ghost had disappeared as well. No distractions, and no turning back now. I double-checked that the invitation was in my bag, along with my burner phone, some cash, and my mask. The bag was a black, leather, designer backpack that I’d pined over for months before I finally broke down and bought it. I wasn’t materialistic by any means, but I did appreciate quality and was willing to pay for it.
With a quick roll of my head, I cracked my neck and took my last breath as a free woman. Head held high, I stomped across the street, the heels of my thigh-high, black, leather boots announcing my arrival as I made eye contact with one of the bouncers and held it. Fuck the line—there was no way I was waiting outside. The hunt was on, and I was salivating just imagining all the possible ways tonight could go.
My eyes were laser focused on the bouncers at the front of the line, so much so that I was completely taken off guard when someone bumped into me hard enough to send me staggering to the right. Thanks to the groups of people in line snapping pictures, camera flashes suddenly blinded me, and my vision spun, making white spots dance around.
