Chapter 7

"Hey, kiddo. Where you at? You all right?" Nina called to her, stepping over a toppled bookcase with the light feet of a beautiful gazelle.

Kiddo. No one had called her that in years.

That almost made her laugh. She was older than all three of the women—by a lot. At least, she thought so. They didn't look any older than thirty at best, making her old enough to be their mother.

Shamus approached where she was sitting in the big patchwork chair, gazing out the front window at the street. Ralph smiled at him and dipped her head so he could sprinkle fairy dust on her, making her visible once more.

"I'm okay, Nina," she said. "Just taking a minute to…" Ralph stalled, swallowing hard.

To what? Wallow in self-pity? Feel sorry for herself for being murdered?

Shamus sat on his haunches in front of her. "Anything I can do?"

She shook her head, letting it fall to the back of the chair as she braided, unbraided, and re-braided a chunk of her hair. "Seeing Hazel was hard, that's all. Saying goodbye is hard. Is it okay if I take a minute to just…absorb?"

"Of course it is," Shamus said with a warm smile.

Ralph stared off into the distance over Shamus's broad shoulder. "Hazel was like my sister. We've been friends for over thirty years…since college. We were both so idealistic. Ready to change the world, you know?" she squeaked, her throat so tight it felt like someone had wrapped a boa constrictor around her neck.

"It was clear she really loved you, too. She seemed determined to find out what the police know about your case."

Ralph looked down at her fingers, twisting them together, rearranging her rings. "We're polar opposites. She's as feisty as I am meek. She helped me learn to love a good adventure. She made me step outside my comfort zone and really taste life."

"But look at this mess. It looks like you put up a fight, Ralph. You're not as meek as you think."

Her smile was wry. "If that's true, it's because of Hazel. We took self-defense classes together a few years ago."

"Hazel sounds like a good friend."

Her nod was slow. "She was the best. She's the one who helped me through my breakup with my fiancé, and harder still, my mom's death. I mean, through her Alzheimer's. I don't know what I would have done if she didn't help me find a safe place to keep my mother in her last months. Hazel's a social worker, and when Mom became too difficult to manage on my own, she called in all her contacts to get her into a great facility. If it hadn't been for her, my mother's social security and retirement wouldn't have been nearly enough to pay for something like that. I would have had to use my life savings. But somehow, she did it…"

Shamus's lips went thin as he tucked his thumbs under his arms. "My nana Ramona died of Alzheimer's, too. My mother and father took care of her. It's a damn shitty disease."

"Your nana was mortal?"

"Yep. I'm only half-elf, remember. My father's human."

"Did you…did she…?"

"Contact me after she passed?" he asked with a fond smile. "No. But I wish she had. It would have been nice to talk to her just once more…to know if she remembered who I am."

"Boy, do I ever get that. Though, just a couple of days before Mom passed, we had an amazing afternoon where she was totally lucid." Ralph swallowed at the memory. "It was a gift—one I'll always treasure." One she wanted to keep tucked close to her heart, so the resentment over how her mother had smothered her until she almost couldn't breathe wouldn't swallow her whole.

"So you were close?"

"We were. Maybe too close," she said on an ironic laugh. "My mother was what everyone these days calls a helicopter mom. She tried to be everything all the time. She sheltered me, watched me like a hawk." Ralph shrugged. "I almost get it. She was a single mom, it was just us, but she forgot to let me breathe in the process."

"Overprotective?"

"To the point of creating a total wimp who didn't trust anyone, ever. But Hazel taught me to take chances, as small as they were. Like this store. This was my biggest chance—a huge risk. I sank everything I had into it, but I'm glad I did…however brief my time was to enjoy it."

Shamus looked around, spreading his arms. "And it's amazing, Ralph. Look at all you did."

She gave him a sheepish glance before she looked around the space. Even in a mess, it still made her smile. "I guess there's no chance I might get to reincarnate or become a werewolf or something, so I could enjoy it for a little longer?"

He looked hesitant, probably due to the fact that she'd spilled her guts and told him she was weak, and now he was afraid to hurt her baby feelings.

Ralph rolled her eyes. "Tell me the truth, Shamus. I'm not that fragile."

"It's unlikely, but you never know…"

Ralph closed her eyes and shook her head. "This is all so confusing. Mortal, immortal, paranormal, fairy dust. Ghosts, werewolves, demons, pointy ears. It's a lot."

Shamus gripped her fingers, sending that zing of excitement through her that she'd felt when he'd held her hand earlier.

Come on.

How could she have all these stupid feelings if she was dead? Why weren't her nerve endings as dead as the rest of her? And why would this happen now, after five years of a nearly flatlined love life?

After she and her fiancé Will amicably parted ways, and then her mother's passing, her interest in dating had gone belly up.

So now that she was a corpse, she suddenly wanted to hit the dating world and join Tinder? What was happening to her?

"I can't even imagine how weird this is for you," he sympathized. "But I'm committed to figuring out how to get you where you need to be."

Nina came up behind Shamus, sitting on her haunches as well, her face eerily pale in the moonlight, shining and oddly sympathetic. "Hey, Glow Stick. You okay?"

Ralph put on her best smile—the one she often used for her former students when she had to make them believe everything was fine when she really had her period and godawful cramps. "I'm okay. I'm just…reminiscing, I guess. I won't take long, promise."

Nina's eyes scanned the landscape of the store, and she smiled. "You really fucking did this right, didn't you? It's a pretty cool place, Ralph, even torn up. Well done."

She smiled back, but her joy at seeing the store was muted by her death. Still, she'd put her heart and soul into it. "It really kinda is, isn't it? I wanted this so bad." She sighed longingly. "I even took early retirement for it."

"Carl would love this place. He digs a book—all kinds of books. When we get back to the castle, I'll introduce you. He'll love the shit outta you."

Ralph had seen Nina with Carl. She was gentle and sweet as a mother, and her children obviously adored her. "Your son, right? The pale-green boy?"

Nina nodded with a fond smile. "I'm not really his mother, but I love him like he's my own."

Ralph smiled at her, even in her sorrow, marveling at how gorgeous the woman was. "It shows, Nina. You're a terrific mother."

"Quit reminding me that you were creepy stalking me, weirdo," Nina said, but she laughed when she said it.

"I didn't mean to. I swear. I didn't know I could leave the castle. Correction, I was afraid to leave the castle. Terrified, actually. How did I know if there wasn't a big vortex out there, just waiting to sweep me into its black maw?"

Nina scratched her head. "I never fucking thought about that. But look, some crazy shit's happened since I became a paranormal. Who knew dragons really GD existed? So I guess there could have been a vortex."

"Dragons?" There were dragons? Like GoT dragons? Or Puff the Magic dragons? There was a distinct difference.

Don't panic, Chicken Little. Think about how cool that could be…

Shamus rose and stood tall, nudging Nina. "Maybe we shouldn't muddy the paranormal waters right this minute?"

Nina popped her lips. "Fine. No fucking dragons. Sorry if I muddied your waters," she said sarcastically.

"Anyway, because I'm the biggest chicken you'll ever meet, I hung around. I apparently no longer sleep. I couldn't pick anything up." She shrugged. "There wasn't much to do but watch you guys and wonder what happened to me."

"So you really don't remember shit about the night you were whacked? Nothing?"

Ralph slid out of the chair and rose to float to the spot where her body had been reduced to a chalk outline and shook her head. "I don't remember anything. I only remember waking up in your castle from what felt like complete darkness."

"The transition," Shamus murmured, coming to stand beside her.

"The what?" Nina asked, echoing her thoughts.

"The state of darkness. Many entities tell me they've experienced it. It's when your soul leaves your physical body and finds its new path in the afterlife."

"And my path was to roam around in a castle forever? Go figure."

Shamus shook his head. "I don't believe that. I think trauma is keeping you here. Whatever happened the night you died traumatized you."

Nina knocked Shamus's shoulder with a light fist. "Duh, she's traumatized, Serpico. She was shot. You know anyone who was murdered that's not traumatized?"

Shamus chuckled. "That's fair. Still, that isn't necessarily what's keeping Ralph here…"

"I hear a but in there," Ralph said. She looked down at her chalk outline, disgusted. Someone had taken liberties with the outline of her hips, thank you very much. They weren't nearly that full.

Shamus sighed, yanking his cap off his head and running the palm of his hand over his thick silver hair. "But—and it's a slim but—you remember everything else leading up to the moment you died. That's uncommon in a traumatized ghost. They can't remember a lot of anything. Mostly it's their name, age, where they live, but recent specifics about their lives are harder to come by. That's what I don't get. You remember every detail of this store, right up until you died."

Ralph wrinkled her nose. "I guess if I had to remember anything, it's better I remember my store than who shot a hole clear through my chest, right?"

"That's the biggest trauma of all. When someone you know is the culprit. At least that's been my experience with ghosts who've been murdered."

"That would suck donkey balls," Nina confirmed.

Shamus gave a brisk nod. "It can get very ugly and sometimes very sad."

Ralph's chest went tight. His face spanned a range of emotions, one of which was deep sorrow. "Your gift must be so stressful. You must see so much grief and heartache. It takes a special person to do what you do."

"It's my job."

She wondered why he called it his job. Did he get paid to do this, and if so, by whom?

"Do you have an employer?"

He grinned. "Nope. I don't get paid to do this. I wouldn't take money even if it was offered. Though, if a living family member asks me to help, I suggest a donation to their favorite charity, or mine. And before you ask, Nana Ramona left me money. She wanted me to use it to support myself while I helped ghosts. To carry on her legacy."

Nina had wandered off to another part of the store while they talked, stepping over unpacked boxes as she went. Just as Ralph was about to ask Shamus what his favorite charity was, the vampire called out.

"Hey! What the fuck are you doing with this?" she asked, unrolling a painting of Elvis on velvet and holding up a children's book.

Ralph blinked, floating toward the vampire. "Where did you get that?"

She frowned. "The box over there by the history section. It's got a bunch of shit in it, including this damn painting that I've been looking for and one of Charlie's old books. What I wanna know is, why do you have my shit?"

Ralph floated to the box and peered inside. "These were some boxes left by the former owner. She ran a vintage thrift store. Maybe it was a donation? I must have been unpacking them when?—"

"I'm gonna kill those two knuckleheads!" Nina roared, waving the painting in the air. "Goddamn them and their bullshit ‘let's update Nina's house and bring it out of the dark ages' crap. By taking all my shit and donating it, that's how they did it—and they damn well did know this store. That's why it looked familiar. Wait until I get my hands on those shady bitches!"

Shamus rocked back on his heels. "Welp, guess that explains your connection to Nina's castle. At least that mystery's solved. I don't know why your soul would latch onto it, but at least now we know it wasn't a random landing."

But Ralph wasn't listening. Her attention was drawn out the window, to the street.

Something flew up in the air and landed with a yelp and a thud. There was the roar of an engine, and then Marty and Wanda's voices in her ears, yelling something she couldn't clearly make out.

Ralph zipped toward the window to get a closer look, only to see Marty and Wanda surrounding whatever it was.

A feeling she'd never experienced before, one deeply embedded in her core, burst forth, burning bright and hot. Ralph didn't know what it was, but it was desperate and urgent to the point of almost causing pain, and the feeling said she was needed.

Needed.

There couldn't be enough emphasis on that word.

She was needed.