Life's a Witch (20 page)

I was just about to text Clove and Thistle to tell them about the conversation when I caught a hint of movement out of the corner of my eye. When I focused on the spot, it was empty. The hair on the back of my neck rose, and I could feel someone watching me. I was pretty sure it was Nathaniel.

I tucked my phone back in my pocket and got comfortable again, hoping I gave off a soothing vibe. It took only a few minutes for Nathaniel to return. He played at the corner of my vision, refusing to move in front of me as he studied me. I let him continue his game for what felt like forever. In real time it was probably only five minutes. Finally, he filled the space by my feet and met my gaze head on.

“Hello, Nathaniel.”

He didn’t appear surprised by my greeting. He knew I could see him thanks to the knife discovery the previous evening. In the bright sunlight, his ethereal body was completely transparent in some places and fairly solid in others.

“You can see me.”

“I can,” I replied. “I saw you last night. Do you remember?”

“Your drunk cousin threw up,” Nathaniel replied, his dark head bobbing. “You don’t see a chick with purple hair puking very often.”

“Probably not.”

“Why are you here?” Nathaniel asked, glancing around. “Where is your boyfriend?”

I ignored the question. “Do you know who I am?”

“You’re Bay Winchester. You’re the editor at The Whistler. You’re also part of that crazy witch family that runs The Overlook. That’s a stupid name, by the way. Didn’t your family realize that was the same name as the haunted hotel in
The Shining
?”

“No,” I replied. “They thought the property had a bluff and you overlook things on it. That’s as far as the reasoning went. We tried to tell them, but my family is great at talking and very poor at listening.”

Nathaniel snorted. “It seems to have worked out for them.”

“It has,” I said, taking a moment to decide which way I wanted to steer the conversation. “Do you know what happened to you?”

“I’m dead.”

“I know that,” I said, fighting to tamp down my irritation. “Do you know how you died?”

“I was stabbed.”

I hate teenagers. Yes, technically Nathaniel was no longer a teenager. He was still annoying because he acted like one, though. “Do you know who stabbed you?”

Nathaniel shrugged. “I … maybe.”

That was an odd answer. “Does it have something to do with the drugs?”

“What drugs?”

“The ones you were selling,” I said, shooting him my best “I’m not an idiot so don’t treat me like one” look. “I know you were selling pot. Were you selling more than that?”

“Who told you that?” Nathaniel asked, his expression darkening.

“Everyone in town told me that,” I replied. It was technically a lie, but he didn’t know that. “Quite a few people said you were selling pot and having money problems. Well, to be fair, some people said you were seen flashing big wads of money and others said you were desperate to find more product because you needed more money.”

Nathaniel scowled. He wasn’t a handsome boy by any stretch of the imagination, so the expression only made him more unappealing. “I want names,” he snapped. “Who talked to you?”

“Grow up,” I shot back. “You’re dead -- and you’re not a child. You might want to act like one, but it won’t get you anywhere … especially not now.” I usually approach ghosts with a gentle tone and sympathy. Nathaniel was unlikeable, and I didn’t have the patience to play tedious games. “I’m here to help you move on. If you don’t want that help, tell me right now, and I’ll go.”

Nathaniel tilted his head to the side, confused. “Move on to … where?”

“The other side.”

“What’s on the other side?”

“I’ve never been there,” I answered. “I know people who have. I know it’s better than being trapped here.”

“If there’s something else, why am I stuck here?”

I licked my lips, giving myself time to decide how to answer. “Most ghosts stay behind because they don’t know they died. They wake up thinking they’re still alive. Others … remember dying. They’re so traumatized by the event, though, they remain behind because they feel the need for retribution.”

“So you’re saying I’m still here because I want someone to pay for killing me. Is that it?”

I nodded.

Nathaniel pursed his lips. “I do want someone to pay,” he said finally.

“Tell me who killed you and we can make someone pay,” I suggested.

“I don’t know that I remember who killed me,” Nathaniel said. Something about the way he phrased the statement bothered me. “I can’t remember everything.”

“What do you remember?”

“I remember coming out here and trying to be quiet because all the drunk kids were annoying me,” Nathaniel answered. “I remember … hearing something. Then I remember screams. I think they were coming from me.”

It wasn’t uncommon for ghosts to block memories of their death. Sometimes they were too traumatic to ever recall. Other times they remember in bits and pieces. Sometimes – although it’s rare – the memories come back in a flood when they’re finally ready to accept what happened to them. Denial plays a part in almost everything, even when you’re a ghost. I had no idea how it would go for Nathaniel.

“Well, let’s break it down,” I said, my pragmatic side taking over. “Who was here that night?”

“I … everyone was here,” Nathaniel said. “Dakota, Charlie, Michael, Dennis, Hayley, Jessica … everyone.”

Most of those monikers meant nothing without last names. I knew which Dakota and Charlie he referred to – and the fact that they didn’t mention being out here with Nathaniel right before he died was irksome – but the other names could belong to several teenagers. “I … .”

The sound of cracking tree branches caught my attention and I swiveled to my left. Nathaniel was so surprised he blinked out of existence. I wanted to call out to him, make him stay so we could continue our conversation, but it was too late.

I rolled to my feet, ready to explode on whoever was coming, but the admonishment died on my lips when I saw Chloe. Her hair was a mess, wispy strands sticking out from a haphazard ponytail. She had dark circles under her eyes and her face was devoid of makeup. If I had to guess, it looked as if she hadn’t slept in days.

I scrambled in Chloe’s direction, catching her off guard when she realized she wasn’t alone.

“Oh … I … what are you doing out here?”

Chloe looked so lost I wanted to hug her. But I didn’t want to crowd her, and given her earlier attitude, I didn’t think she would like it if she thought someone felt sorry for her. “I came to look around,” I said. “I wanted to see where your brother died when no one was here and I could actually get a gander at what was going on.”

“There’s a rumor going around town,” Chloe said. “They’re saying your boyfriend found the murder weapon here last night. Is that true?”

“We found a knife,” I answered. “We’re not sure it’s the murder weapon, but it probably is.”

“Do you think … do you think it hurt? I mean, was it a big knife?” Chloe looked miserable.

I scanned the area, hoping Nathaniel would return when he realized the interloper was his sister. As far as I could tell, though, he wasn’t around. “I think it was probably over before he realized what was happening.”

Chloe’s eyes were hopeful. “Really? Do you think that’s possible?”

“I think that dying is probably chaotic,” I replied. “I think the body has ways of shutting down pain that it knows the human mind can’t take. A lot of people report being numb when they die.”

Chloe furrowed her brow. “Numb? How do people report things if they’re dead?”

Uh-oh. I tipped my hand a little bit there. “It’s just something I read in a book once,” I lied. “People who almost died said they didn’t feel anything at the time.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense.”

Whew! “What are you doing out here, Chloe?”

“I just … .” She didn’t answer. Perhaps she couldn’t.

“You wanted to see where he died,” I finished for her. “You thought you might feel something if you came out here.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve known quite a few people who died,” I answered. “You can go ahead and look around. The police are done here.”

“Are you staying?”

“Do you want me to stay?”

Chloe shrugged, helplessness washing over her face. “I don’t know.”

“Well, how about I hang around for a little bit and walk around the area with you,” I suggested. “If it starts to bother you, I’ll go. Just tell me. I promise there will be no hard feelings.”

“Really?”

I nodded.

Chloe looked so relieved that my heart rolled. I followed her as she shuffled around, studying her face as she looked at the bank and water. After a few minutes, she turned her attention back to me. “I thought I would feel his presence here or something. Does that make me sound like an idiot?”

“No. That makes you sound like a sister who is grieving.”

“I hated him for most of my life,” Chloe admitted. “Now I feel guilty because I hated him, and it’s too late to take it back.”

“I’m sure he knows,” I said. “I … .”

Nathaniel popped back into view about a foot behind his sister. She couldn’t see or sense him, and his expression was unreadable as he looked her up and down.

“What were you saying?” Chloe prodded.

“I was saying that I’m sure your brother knows how much you loved him.”

Nathaniel made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “She’s the one who told you I was selling pot, isn’t she?”

I opened my mouth to argue and then snapped it shut. Chloe was already unhinged. If she thought I was talking to her brother’s ghost she would lose any sanity she had left.

“Don’t bother lying for her,” Nathaniel sneered, stalking around his oblivious sister. “She’s always been a freaking baby. God, I hate her!”

Before I realized what he was doing, Nathaniel reached out with his ghostly hands and shoved Chloe into the water. She tumbled forward, the force of the ghostly movements propelling her several feet into the water.

I was stunned. Most ghosts don’t have the ability to alter the human plane, even when they’ve had years to practice. The most I’d ever seen Edith do was move a pencil, and that took her decades to master. Poltergeists can move things. They don’t retain human form because they transform into rage-fueled monsters. Nathaniel appeared to be a mixture of the two.

Chloe surfaced, her hair sticking to her face as she climbed to her feet. “What the hell?”

“I … .” How could I possibly explain this?

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“I didn’t … .”

“You’re the only one here,” Chloe said, slogging toward the shore. “You’re trying to hurt me! There’s no other explanation.”

Well, crap. This situation spiraled out of control quickly.

Twenty

“She tried to kill me!” One hour and multiple screaming fits did nothing to calm Chloe before the cavalry – in the form of Chief Terry – arrived.

“Tell me again what happened,” Chief Terry instructed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

After fruitlessly trying to convince Chloe that I wasn’t trying to murder her – and offering her a ride back to town, which she promptly turned into a purported death threat – Patty Jamison arrived thanks to a call from her outraged daughter. She in turn called Chief Terry to haul me in for attempted murder.

It wasn’t going well.

“I want her arrested,” Patty screeched, pointing at me. “She tried to kill my daughter.”

“I didn’t,” I argued. “I didn’t touch her.”

“How did I get into the creek then?” Chloe asked, gesturing wildly at the water. “I was standing on the shore looking at the place where my brother’s body was dumped. The next thing I knew I was flying through the air and landing in the water. That didn’t just magically happen.”

Technically, that wasn’t true. I didn’t think now was the time to bring it up, though.

Chief Terry glanced at me. “What were you doing here?”

“I was … .” Talking to a ghost. Chief Terry knew about my abilities. Patty and Chloe did not. It was probably wise to keep it that way. “I was looking around because I wanted to instruct a photographer on what photos to take for our article on Nathaniel’s death. I was going to call him with locations when I got back to the office.” That was believable, right?

“She was out here waiting for me because she wanted to kill me,” Chloe yelled. “Arrest her!”

“What’s going on?” Landon popped out of the woods, his eyes scanning the area until they landed on me. He looked relieved. Instead of rushing over to hug me, though, he put his immovable “cop face” into action. “I heard there was a ruckus down here.”

“Your girlfriend tried to kill me,” Chloe spat.

“And you are?”

“I’m Chloe Jamison!”

“She’s the deceased’s sister,” Chief Terry supplied. “She was down here … what were you doing down here, Chloe?”

Chloe crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you accusing me of?”

“I’d like an answer to that, too,” Patty said.

“I’m not accusing her of anything,” Chief Terry replied, his famous patience on display. “I’m trying to get both sides of the story.”

“There’s only one side of the story,” Chloe said. “She pushed me in the water and tried to kill me.”

Landon narrowed his eyes. “Why would she do that?”

“Who knows? Maybe she killed my brother and wanted to take me out, too,” Chloe suggested. “Maybe she was doing something out here and she was worried I figured out what it is and had to kill me to shut me up.”

“What would she be doing out here?” Landon pressed. “Did you see her doing something?”

“Of course not,” Chloe snapped. “She’s much too … diabolical … to let a teenager know what she’s doing.”

“Then why would she try to kill you?”

“I … ugh! You’re going to take her side no matter what because you’re sleeping with her,” Chloe snapped. “Admit it.”

“First of all, my relationship with Ms. Winchester is not up for debate here,” Landon said. “Second, unless you can give me a proper motive, I have trouble believing a grown woman pushed a teenager into the creek in an attempt to drown her. If she really wanted you dead, why didn’t she follow you in there and finish the job?”