Page 7 of A Guide to Ghosting (Monsters of Moonvale #3)

6

I ’m not one to catastrophize, but moving into my new house has been a disaster.

To start, the furniture movers must not have understood my directions, because they hauled off almost everything I wanted to keep and left behind all the kitschy old lady stuff. I didn’t notice until they’d left and by the time I got a hold of them, they’d already brought the items to the second-hand store. I was too tired to argue, even though I swear I put the notes on the right furniture. They’re booked up with other gigs, so unless I want to go re-buy all the furniture from the thrift place and move out the stuff they left on my own, I’m stuck with what I have.

It’s taken two whole days to strip the wallpaper in the bedroom, and I injured my back in the process. Because of that, any other home improvement plans I’d hoped to do in my last couple of days before starting my new job are shot.

On top of all that, I’m losing my mind. It’s probably stress and fatigue, but I keep sensing things that aren’t there. Sounds coming from all around the house that have no source. Puffs of air against my skin. A feeling that someone is watching me. There’s probably something weird going on with the pipes and AC, which would account for the first two things. But the sense of being observed…that’s harder to explain away.

God, I hope it’ll go away with some rest. Maybe it’s that I’m not used to having much downtime. Up until my final day at my last job, I was working until 9 each night. I only used my apartment as a place to crash before doing it all over again the next day. It’d be just my luck to find out that when I’m not constantly doing things, I’m a paranoid mess. I have enough nonsense rattling around in my head. Please don’t let that be yet another thing I have to contend with.

It’s hard to not regret the choice to make this move. Yes, I hated my old job and apartment, and I had to stop before it fully destroyed me. But, fuck, I was hoping for a little less stress. Lying around with a heat pad on my back while I doom scroll and worry about all the shit I need to get done isn’t the kind of relaxing I’d pictured.

I’d hoped… Shit, it feels so silly to admit, but I’d hoped moving back to Moonvale would be like finding my home again. That I’d get back that feeling I used to get when I last lived in Moonvale.

I’d never admit it to Emma, but back then, when I’d go out at night, I’d notice this sense of potential. Like something special, something magical was waiting for me under the dim glow of the night sky.

Of course I don’t feel it anymore. That was a version of me that thought the future held magical potential, not the current me, who understands that life is random and painful. There’s no magic hand guiding my life—only the cruel reality of work and loss.

Ugh, I need to find a therapist in Moonvale. I never had the time to go to one before, but even I recognize these sorts of thoughts aren’t healthy.

I spend an hour searching for one before realizing that I need to wait for my insurance at my new job to kick in. For now, I’ll have to settle for finding something to distract myself from the shit rattling around in my head and the creepy vibes of the house. I’m in pain, but staying cooped up in this house with nothing to do but think is becoming unbearable.

I strap a sticky heat pads to my back despite it being almost 90 degrees out today, get dressed in the only clothes I have that fall somewhere between ratty sweats and work attire, then head out to check out Moonvale’s small downtown area.

A lot has changed since I was last here. Many of the old shops and restaurants have been replaced with new offerings. The rundown hardware store is now a pole fitness studio. The abandoned video rental place now looks to be a bar called Nightlight. The pharmacy is still there, but now it has an old-timey soda shop attached to it. It’s all very cute and manages to pull off being quirky without seeming like it’s trying too hard to be unique.

The shops are busy on this sunny Saturday afternoon, and people smile and give nods of acknowledgement to me as I walk past.

It’s bizarre. I guess it was like that here before, but the friendliness feels alien after living in a city where people were so absorbed in themselves that they wouldn’t even meet your eyes as they strode past.

I’d planned on keeping my outing to a short walk around to scope things out, but when I find a witchy store that screams Emma to me, I have to go inside. It’s not at all my kind of place, but I bet I can find a nice “thank you for being an amazing sister to your grumpy asshole brother” gift for her here.

When I enter the shop, a strong herbal scent hits me and I stifle a sneeze. Guess I’m allergic to new age things. The urge to leave immediately is strong, but I’m inside the shop now, so I might as well look around.

I scan the extensive collection of crystals, candles, and more, and it strikes me as odd that a town the size of Moonvale would have this broad of a selection of witchy stuff. As I wander through the sunny space, I fight off the urge to sneeze again. I’m hopelessly out of my depth, but at least the woman at the checkout counter is content to let me look around in peace.

As I’m scanning the books on tarot and witchcraft, my eyes land on a title that makes me snort in amusement. Communing with Spirits.

I tug it out and flip it open to a random page. There’s a list of spell components and a five-step guide for “Seeing Beyond the Veil”, accompanied by a sketch of a man with an eye symbol on his forehead and wispy figures surrounding him.

I fight an eye roll as I shut the book. I can’t believe people really believe in this sort of thing.

I go to set it back on the shelf, but pause. It’s dumb, but also the perfect present for a sister who insists my house is haunted. I check the price sticker on the back and suppress a wince at the $49.99 I see there. Who the fuck is paying $50 for a book about seeing ghosts?

After one more lap finding nothing that seems like a better gift, the answer to that question is me—I’m the chump spending an absurd amount of money on bullshit because I love my sister.

With a sigh, I bring the book and a candle that’s supposed to bring love and happiness into your life up to the register. The woman at the counter finally looks up from her phone, and I don’t think I’m imagining things when she does a double-take before plastering on a smile.

“Find everything you need?” she asks as I hand her my selection.

“Yep.” I don’t particularly want to engage in small talk right now, when I’m feeling so out of place.

The corner of her mouth lifts as she looks at the combination of ghost book and love candle. “Looking to court a spirit?”

I shake my head, face heating at her amused tone. “It’s a gift.”

“Ah.” She sounds like she doesn’t believe me. “Well, whoever is using this will need some components for the rituals. We’re having a sale on most of the stuff they’ll need, and I can help you pick it out if you’re unsure what to get.”

“I’m good, thanks,” I reply automatically. But after a second to think about it, I change my mind. Emma will die of excitement if I give her everything she needs to start casting her own “spells”.

“Actually, yeah. That’d be great. Thanks.”

She scoots out from behind the counter, flipping through the book as she leads me over to the wall of spell components. It’s a bunch of overpriced herbs, salts, dried flowers, and oils, and I internally shudder at how much this garbage is going to cost.

As the woman scoops out things into tiny bags and jars, she turns over her shoulder. “I’m Raina, by the way. You new in town?”

“Uh, yeah. Kind of.” Great, now I’m chatting with the woman fleecing me. “I’m Noah.”

“Nice to meet you, Noah.” She gives me a genuine, kind smile that cuts through my pissy mood, and I smile back.

“This is for my sister,” I offer, waving my hand at the book. “She helped me with my move, so I wanted to get her a present.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet of you! She’s a witch?” Raina asks casually, like that’s a totally normal thing to be. I guess there are more wiccans or pagans or whatever out there than I thought.

“No, but she loves this sort of thing,” I say with a shrug. Raina nods and goes back to gathering things for me, placing them in a small basket. Now that we’ve started talking, I feel weird silently watching her, so I continue. “She thinks that my house is haunted.”

She pauses, a slight furrow forming in her brow as she looks back at me. “Why does she think that? Has she encountered a spirit?”

“Oh, no. Emma has a very active imagination. She thinks there’s an old lady haunting the house, but it’s all crap. A prank she’s playing on me to help me lighten up.” I laugh awkwardly and gesture at myself. “I’m not exactly the most relaxed guy.”

“So you’re buying her a book of spells to commune with spirits, even though it’s a prank?”

Now that she says it out loud, I’m questioning the decision. “Well, yeah. I think it’ll make her happy. If she wants to tease me, I might as well play into it.”

Raina chuckles. “That’s adorable. If there’s no spirit in your home, then the rituals in this book will be harmless fun.”

“Right.” I don’t point out that magic isn’t real and neither are ghosts, because arguing with the woman about her livelihood after she’s been so nice to me is a dick move, even for me.

“Just to check, you’re sure there’s no spirit in your house? I don’t want to send you home with the means to piss off a ghost.”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

Even if I wasn’t, I just want to get the present and get out of here. I’m not about to tell this woman about the weird vibes and Emma’s insistence that the ghost grandma made me brunch the other day. I’m fine to play along with the magic stuff, but I draw the line at being kept from buying something because it’d be “dangerous”.

Raina nods and carries her selection back to the counter. The total comes to a whopping $132 and I almost don’t want to hand over my card.

I have the money. Emma will love this. Don’t be an asshole.

“Good luck with your ghost,” she says as she hands me my bag.

I thank her and head outside, greedily sucking in the fresh air. I’m getting a headache from whatever scents were in the shop, signaling the end of my exploration for the day.

When I get back to the house, my body reflexively tenses at the front door. Any relaxation that came from going out vanishes.

I’m being ridiculous. There’s nothing in there.

I take a deep breath and unlock the door. Prickling awareness slams into me the moment I step inside. Dread coils in my gut as I set my keys down, and I scan the space as if there’s something lurking around every corner waiting for me.

When it’s clear there isn’t, I head to the kitchen to grab a beer so that maybe I’ll chill the fuck out. But as I go to shut the refrigerator door, I feel it.

Breath on my neck.

Something behind me.

A high-pitched shriek erupts from me, and I drop the beer bottle. It shatters on the kitchen tile, shards of glass shooting out like shrapnel and foaming liquid soaking into my shoes.

“Fuck!” I scramble back from the mess, my head whipping around to find the source of my scare.

There’s nothing there.

It’s official. I’ve lost my mind.