Pumpkin Spice & Poltergeist (Maple Hollow #1)

“Kind of.” She scrunched her face as she teetered her hand back and forth in a so-so motion. “It’s a gathering place for paranormal beings: witches, werewolves, monsters, vampires, demons?—”

“Aren’t demons and vampires the same thing?”

Willow shook her head. “Common misconception. Demons give off more finance-bro vibes. Vampires give off more Victorian-royalty-who-wants-to-drink-your-blood vibes.” She cringed. “You’ll know them when you serve them.”

“When I serve them?” I practically bolted out of my chair. “They all come in here for scones and pumpkin-spice lattes? Willow, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

She held up placating hands. “See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you until morning.”

“So I can’t go for a walk without being eaten by a monster?”

“No one here is going to eat you. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You just told me vampires are real! I think I’m entitled to be a little dramatic!” I turned in a circle, the café’s dark windowpanes staring at me like empty eye sockets. I wondered if a beast was watching me from the shadows.

Willow waved a hand in front of my face. “What are you looking at?”

“I’m wondering if a pack of werewolves is waiting to hunt me down,” I muttered.

“There’s nothing lurking in the darkness,” Willow said, coming around the counter to my side. “Well, nothing that wants to hurt you, at least,” she amended, which did nothing to comfort me. “And maybe don’t go walking through the graveyard alone, or the orchard, or generally anywhere that’s shrouded in mist . . .”

“Wonderful,” I said tightly.

“Now you know why I was so hesitant to say yes to this.” She gently squeezed my shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to just move back in with Mom and Dad?”

I shook off her hand and straightened my shoulders. That was a million percent not an option. I would rather grapple with the paranormal than deal with our parents’ passive-aggressive judgment. The image of Mom’s eye rolls and Dad’s pointed jibes made me clench my jaw. I strode to the rack of witch’s brooms and grabbed my backpack.

I gave one last glance toward the shadowed town square. “I can handle a few demons over Mom and Dad any day.”

Willow smiled, and a twinge of mischief twinkled in her eyes. “You’ll fit right in.”

3

JORDYN

Iturned off the light and lay in bed, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling for several minutes before turning the light back on, only to find Lou sat atop my dresser, chin in hand, watching me.

I glared at her. “You’re seriously watching me sleep?”

“You’re the one who summoned me, okay? And on the one-year anniversary of our breakup too,” she said with a shake of her head. “That’s really lame, Jords.”

“Stop calling me that,” I pleaded.

I’d never liked the nickname. It sounded too much like the portmanteaufor jean shorts, which I’d never be caught dead in—no pun intended.

Lou surveyed the room with a tired expression. “I missed this place. It looks exactly the same. Like a moment frozen in time.”

“It’s only been a year,” I countered.

She shrugged. “Time works differently once you die.”

To be honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know little facts like that about death. It made my stomach sour to think about it for too long. But there was something I was still curious about when it came to Lou’s passing.

“Do you really not remember it?” I asked a little more softly. “Dying?”

Lou’s lips curved downward. “I don’t remember any of it. I don’t remember that day at all.”

I sat straight up and brought my knees to my chest to hug for comfort. “You don’t remember where you were driving when you died?”