Chapter 1

My word, these women were…

How to describe these women?

Raphaela Tucci, Ralph to her friends, considered that thought.

Usually, she compared almost every female she met, and sometimes males, to a Golden Girl—her favorite sitcom ever.

While there were plenty of comparisons to be had between these women and the ladies on the show, even one of Sophia's threats couldn't compare to the intimidations of the woman named Nina.

She was a Sophia to the millionth power. Brash, brazen, loud, unfiltered and unafraid.

Not two seconds ago, Nina had barked at Marty about going shopping at some discount mall. "Marty, I swear as fuck is my witness, I'm going to eviscerate you and eat your intestines like goddamn spaghetti if you don't shut up about this stupid shopping trip. I told you, some weird shit's going on here and I need to figure it out, okay? George and Dex know someone, and he's dropping by. Sometimes plans get canceled and your dumb-ass Coach purse spree has to wait."

And then Marty had given her the finger—in stereo. "Pipe down, Mistress of the Dark! I'm allowed to express my disappointment about missing a sale because you're a scaredy-cat and think your mausoleum of a castle is being haunted!"

Marty? Marty was a mix of Dorothy and Rose. Sometimes flirty and kittenish, other times unintentionally, albeit hilariously unaware of how clever her sweetly dipped sarcasm came across.

"Be fair, Marty. Something's going on around here. You know it. We've both smelled whatever it is, and you can't deny what happened at dinner earlier this week. So quit squabbling with each other or you're both going to bed without your supper!"

That was Wanda. Ralph's favorite, not only in the way she dressed in her pencil-slim skirt, silk shirt and cardigan, as though royalty were going to pop in at any moment, but because she wasn't at all intimidated by either of these women.

Wanda—undoubtedly a combination of Rose's gentle nature, Dorothy's spot-on logic, and Sophia's no-nonsense attitude—clapped the table with her hand to get their attention, making both women settle back in their chairs.

Anyway, because Ralph needed to pass the time, and because list-making happened to be one of her favorite things to do, she began mentally compiling her list to describe these women she'd observed while going totally unnoticed for at least a week.

She hovered in the air above them as they sat around Nina's big oak table, considering the scene below as she plucked at her favorite beaded bracelets, lining her forearm.

1: Paranormal.

That was a word cited often in conversation amongst them. As were werewolf, ass-sniffer, Blondie, vampire, Dark Lord, Elvira Mistress of the Dark, halfsie, witch, demon, Rebecca from Sunnybrook Farms and… Raphaela frowned.

That was all she could remember for now, but there were more.

2: Friends.

These women were insanely loyal to one another. Despite their bickering. And despite the constant razzing from the surreally gorgeous vampire called Mistress of the Dark, a.k.a. Nina—who favored T-shirts with a picture of Rick Astley on them that read: Never Gonna Give a Fuck—of the pretty blonde werewolf with the long beachy waves, refereed by the stately and elegant halfsie, Wanda.

Loyalty was of the utmost importance among their group, in fact, and that included their various partners in marriage, friends and a pale, sweeter than a soft summer breeze of a boy named Carl. They called him a zombie, but what sort of zombie turned their nose up at brains and instead ate head after head of broccoli, lovingly made in various ways, by Nina?

3: Loud.

When they got to tussling, or even when they got together for game night, by Grabthar's Hammer, they were thunderously loud.

Sometimes they were jokey-loud, as in, "Did you hear about that crusty bag of dicks necromancer, Finster? His mermaid wife booted him out of the house because he slept with that vapid Sheryl Seymore the sea serpent?"

Then they cackled until pretty Marty doubled over and had to hold her sides because she couldn't catch her breath.

Ralph wouldn't allow herself to delve into the idea that sea serpents and mermaids existed—though, there was proof aplenty of the paranormal in the women themselves—but that conversation between them certainly had left her curious.

Sometimes they were argumentative-loud. Yikes. When they disagreed, they did it with their whole chests. It was always deafening, and Nina used so many swear words that Ralph didn't even know existed, but they always made up. And when they did, that was loud, too.

4: Honest.

That described this crew to a T.

Or at least one of them was—and brutally so. Nina the vampire would be the first one in line to tell her friend Marty if her ass did, indeed, look like too much sausage stuffed into its casing.

In return, Marty was unafraid to tell Nina she could only hope someday her brain would grow to be as big as her mouth.

5: Terrifying.

As awesome as they were as a group, each of them had the single most terrifying properties available in existence in any one person.

Nina's surreal beauty belied sharp fangs she flashed when she was angry. That wasn't to say her incredible speed didn't match the spectacular baring of her teeth. Ralph had never seen someone clean a house like the Roadrunner on speed, but Nina moved like a special effect in an Avengers movie.

Marty, on the other hand? Phew, child, when she did that thing she called shapeshifting, it was one for the books. Hair, drool, shredded clothing, and the end result? A werewolf. The first time she'd seen her do it on the night of a full moon, Ralph still couldn't believe no one had heard her scream.

In all her fifty years, five months and twenty-six days, she'd never in a million years have believed such a thing existed. But it did. Mind officially blown.

Then there was Wanda…

Ralph's heart swelled just thinking about her. After observing them this week, coming and going, bickering and laughing, yes, Wanda was definitely her favorite. She liked them all, but Wanda reminded her of a favorite colleague she'd often turned to for advice through the years.

Golden Girls aside, paranormally speaking, she was a combination of Marty and Nina. Half werewolf and half vampire, but all regal elegance and grace personified. She was kind and smart, and she deserved a purple heart for not cracking the other women's heads together out of sheer frustration from being in the middle of all their arguing.

Instead, she was the glue that kept them from tearing each other apart. Wanda was a stellar mother, not only to her children, but to all of them.

She was the warm chocolate chip cookie dipped in chilled milk, while wrapping your favorite blanket around your shoulders kind of comfort. The gentle caress of a cool breeze across your overheated cheeks. And even though Wanda had no idea, Ralph had connected with her simply by observing her tender nature, her quiet calm.

She'd been watching them all week as they came and went, dropping in for lunch or a family dinner, picking up children, bringing them over for playdates, puppy sitting for one another, going off shopping together, watching movies.

At least, she thought it had been a week. She'd looked at the calendar Nina had hanging up on the side of her fridge (who even had a paper calendar anymore?)—a fridge mostly filled with IV-like packets of blood for Nina and broccoli for Carl.

Add in some fresh fruit, vegetables, yogurt, milk and juice for Charlie—her half-witch, half-vampire toddler daughter—and dog food for her two-legged dog, Waffles, and that just about summed up the extent of the excitement in Ralph's life since this happened.

Floating through Nina's castle, watching these women and their families live their lives, and making lists, including a catalog of what was in the vampire's fridge.

What a rush, right?

Ralph tried her level best not to dwell on figuring out how she'd come to be here, because it only brought her to tears for the trying.

But she couldn't put off the inevitable forever. She had to figure out what had happened to her, what was to become of her, and how she'd landed in, of all places, a castle on Long Island.

She knew it was on Long Island because Nina and her husband Greg's snail mail said so. But a castle in New York was the least of the oddities she'd encountered this past week.

For instance, one minute she was in her tiny bookstore, Once Upon a Time, the one she'd taken early retirement from teaching first grade to buy. The one she'd worked endless summers for, doing any job she could get her hands on for extra money—the store she'd saved for years to purchase.

The last day she remembered before this happened was a week ago. She'd been in her store late at night, unpacking some inventory and looking forward to going upstairs to her tiny loft apartment, where she'd order in some Chinese and catch up on one of her favorite British mysteries.

Then everything had gone black.

The next minute, she woke up, or maybe it was more like resurfaced from the darkness, and she was here, floating from room to room like some creepy voyeur no one could see or hear.

And trust, she'd tried to make her presence known. In fact, she'd become so desperate yesterday, Ralph had literally screamed directly in Nina's face, only to have the vampire wrinkle her nose and flare her nostrils as her only acknowledgement.

Then, in a conversation with her small blue friend who went by the name Archibald, he of the British accent and spiffy suit, Nina had groused about how something didn't feel right.

But that had been the only reaction Ralph had gotten thus far, and she'd done a whole lot of talking and yelling. She'd even done jumping jacks on the couch.

So, either this was a really bad, really long nightmare, or she was…

What?

Dead. For sure she was dead.

No one could see or hear her. Yet, she was still wandering around, capable of seeing other people in current time. In fact, she'd watched the news with Greg and Nina (okay, so they didn't know she was there, but still…) and the current year was 2024. She knew it was still 2024.

Then there was that call Nina had made to some friend of hers, who knew someone who hunted ghosts.

She'd heard the vampire say those exact words. I need someone who hunts ghosts, Georgie…

Thus, that had to mean Nina thought she was…

A ghost.

Le gasp…