Pumpkin Spice & Poltergeist (Maple Hollow #1)

“Do you think tagging along to meet with a demon is the best idea for a ghost?” I muttered to Lou. She sat behind us, adding to the evening’s gloom.

Iris had gotten used to my one-sided conversations but answered anyway, “Uh, hello, she’s been murdered. Clearly, a demon will be able to help us figure out what happened.”

“What she said.” Lou sighed as she stretched her neck from side to side. “Besides, now I have things keeping me here.”

Did ghosts get sore muscles?

“I’m moving on, so that’s not a reason anymore,” I told Lou. “We’ve been on one official date. We’ve kissed, multiple times. Not to mention all the witchcraft she’s witnessed since meeting us. Those are big signs that I’m moving on. I promise I’m over you!”

“Okay, jeez,” Lou balked. “Don’t need to rub it in.”

“Sorry, I’m just . . . worried.”

Lou sighed again. “You know what helps with a worried mind? Sex.”

I choked on air, letting out a garbled half cough, half gasp.

Iris clapped me on the back. “What did she say?”

“Lou just said I should have sex,” I rasped, coughing into my elbow. “You cannot be serious.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be a prude.” Lou let out a light chuckle. “There’s nothing more definitive in a relationship than the first big O.”

“Please don’t let that be the thing that makes you pass over.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and looked at Iris. “Be grateful you can’t hear what she’s saying.”

Iris chuckled. “I mean . . . it wouldn’t hurt to have a little bit of witchy fun time with Harlow, would it?”

I glared at Iris. “Not you too. We just met. Give me like, a whole week to get to know her before I jump into bed with her, okay?”

Iris shrugged. “I just think it might be time to clear the pipes is all.”

I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “I don’t need my ghost of an ex watching me fuck my potential new girlfriend?—”

“Sorry!” Harlow called from across the square as she dashed toward the gazebo. “I accidentally spilled a saltshaker, and I didn’t want to add an ant problem to the rodent infestation so I had to clean it up.” She paused when a cluster of tourists wandered past, adding loudly, “A rodent problem that has been dealt with and no longer exists!”

I tried and failed to hold in my chuckle. I loved when she acted like a chaotic bull in a china shop.

Iris stood and rubbed her hands together, blowing her steaming breath onto them. “Let’s get this over with. It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.” Harlow laughed, and Iris looked at her. “Only we are allowed to make that joke.”

“Noted,” Harlow said with a smile.

Iris smirked, wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck, and adjusted her red wool coat around her body. I was glad to have Harlow here to keep me somewhat warm on the way to Ramona’s place. It wasn’t too far of a walk, but like all marches toward enemy territory, it was daunting.

Harlow and I held hands as we followed Iris, who walked at a determined clip through the south end of town. The streets were quieter here as they were off the main thoroughfare. Many of the residents who’d lived here since Maple Hollow was settled lived in the large, older homes that bracketed the street. The white picket fences, old elms, and perfectly trimmed lawns were proof of the pride they took in the town.

The old colonial I grew up in was just around the block from here. I wondered if my mother was at home. Or maybe she was hosting the grimoire club this week and some of the other coven members were visiting for a spell and a drink.

I thought of stopping by to ask if she had any more of those protection necklaces hanging around. I wore mine every single day and could probably make one for Harlow, but my mother was more powerful. I would ask her for one at the next coven meeting . . . and for her to help me cast an additional protection spell over the human holding my hand.

We twisted and twined our way through the neighborhoods until we reached the last row of houses that abutted the haunted forest. The third house down was painted all in black, a lone lantern flickering above the mailbox but not a single shimmer of light inside. I wondered if Ramona even spent any time in her house. I was pretty sure she’d spelled the front door so that when someone knocked on it, she was summoned from hell. Such a twenty-first-century woman—no more crossroads, no more spyglasses. She was one step away from doing deals via text message.

We stopped at the mouth of the walkway that led to the front door. The three floors overhead loomed over us like a black hole. The siding of the house was so matte, so dark that it seemed to absorb all light and color. Otherworldly, just like Ramona.

I felt a bead of sweat slip down my spine despite the frigid night.

Behind me, Lou hummed her disapproval. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

Clearing my throat, I opened my mouth to make a generalized statement about coming back during the day, but Iris strode up to Ramona’s door without glancing back to see us rushing up behind her.