Page 13 of Graveyard Girls (Hollows Grove #1)
My ghostly companion and I split ways inside the library.
The “cookbooks” I pulled from the veiled shelf weren’t providing any new “recipes” for me to experiment with.
Really, for as much magical knowledge existed in the realms, not much was documented about poltergeists.
There were plenty of books on ghosts, but that’s just because ghosts were more common and frequently occurring.
People were always dying; souls were always restless or caught in between their passings.
Everyone had a ghost story or knew someone who did.
Poltergeists, though, well, I wondered if they were often mislabeled as something malevolent.
Finally, as I ran my finger down an off-colored page in a book of spirits and their charms, I landed on an interesting passage.
“Noisy, unruly spirits or ghosts can often be labeled a poltergeist, though not much is known about this specification of spirit. Their desire uniformly appears to be both seen, heard, and sometimes to touch or be touched. Throughout history, these forces are often difficult to distinguish past what history would call angels or demons.”
“Huh.” I rubbed my chin. The word angel hadn’t occurred to me.
Certainly not the title of demon. Though, historically, us witches knew there wasn’t much difference between the two.
Holding the book to my chest, I ventured out in search of the ghost, demon, poltergeist, angel, spirit called Shiloh.
I discovered her in the periodical section, holding up a large, unfolded grey page—my dead fiancé’s face staring at me in black and white ink.
“Sir Alaric Benjamin Lonesome,” Shiloh read.
“Heir of the Lonesome family fortune. Alaric Lonesome was a prominent member of society and chair of the town’s poker board for two decades.
Alaric was a figurehead in local Hollows Grove high society and frequently hosted cards and poker competitions with proceeds donated to charity. ”
In that moment, I realized I didn’t even know his middle name. Benjamin . Hm. So plain.
Shiloh tilted the paper downward. “Sounds like a pillar of the community, that Alaric Lonesome. A real stand-up chap with an expertly styled mustache.”
The corner of my lip curved. “Check the back page, yours is there.”
“Ah, yes, I’d love to read my obituary. A gift one does not often receive, right?” She licked her finger and flipped to the last page, her eyes twinkling in delight as she scanned the page. Her smile faded, and her brows furrowed.
“Shiloh? Everything alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Clearing her throat, she folded the paper and placed it back in its file cabinet. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Somewhat… Shiloh, did your obituary upset you?” I pressed, putting a gentle palm on her shoulder. “I can help you find your old life. Your old house, friends, anything you want?—“
With a huff, she shook her head. “No, Lunette, that’s not what I want.”
With a more steely expression than usual, she passed me, leaving me following after.
“The moon’s almost out. Time to head to the graveyard.”
“Shiloh, talk to me. Slow down and let’s talk.”
“Do we need to stop and get your wedding dress first? What am I saying? Of course, we do. Veil and all. Not complete without the veil. Ready for your man. Mr. Upstanding Pillar of the Community, to crawl from the soil and waltz you down a cursed aisle into holy undead matrimony.”
I stopped, my heart dropping. Shiloh turned on her heel and groaned. “Lune, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to snap at you. It’s just…” She ran a frazzled hand through her curls. “All this… ” She gestured around. “All this for him?”
“He was my fiancé. I owe this to him.”
“You don’t owe him shit. Living or dead.”
Annoyance rose in my chest and heated my cheeks. “You didn’t know him.”
“Did you? Did you know him, Lune? Did you truly know this man you’re spellbinding back to life with some nightly, complex, wedding-dress-wearing ritual?
Because I’m here and now, Lune. I don’t want to go backwards.
I have no interest in what my life was before you, before this.
Stop looking back and look forward with me. Why won’t you do that, Lunette?”
In anger, I turned to leave and go home on my own, but Shiloh grabbed my wrist. “You’re not going anywhere alone right now. Got it?”
Sending out a short flare of protective magic from my skin, Shiloh’s hand was shocked and frozen momentarily.
I jerked away, my soul crushed at the look of shock and confusion across her lovely features.
“You don’t know me, Shiloh Solair. You don’t even know who you are—and you certainly don’t get to tell me what to do or judge my relationships.
Do you even know what it is you want? No, you have no clue.
You’re stuck in this holding pattern, and soon you’ll leave me, just like everyone else. ”
Stomping away, I fought back tears as Shiloh stood frozen, unable to follow me.
It wasn’t a long-acting spell, and it didn’t hurt; it was only used in situations where a witch needed to flee.
It would also temporarily include her in my banishing spells, so she couldn’t get past the protection wards around my house.
So, even if she managed to unfreeze and follow me, she wouldn’t be able to come into my home for the night.
None of this would harm her or do any lasting damage.
Even so, guilt rested heavy on my back the whole lonely, wretched walk home.
Tears streaked my cold cheeks as I realized I’d gotten used to holding her arm and walking everywhere together.
I felt stupid at how accustomed to Shiloh I’d allowed myself to become.
She was a ghost. Her spirit was surely almost finished with this world, and I couldn’t become attached to yet another person who would disappear.
Why did the sudden realization just hit me that I had allowed myself to become attached? I thought the sex could just be sex. It could be a distraction from my circumstance… but with us, it was never just fucking around, was it? It was more. I felt more.
The cats meowed and pawed at my ankles as I washed off and changed into my wedding dress. The dress felt tight and restrictive. My veil was scratchy and my shoes a size too small. Staring at myself in the mirror, I was the one who looked like some sort of lost spirit.
Maybe I was the ghost.
Some dead thing haunting the grave of the first and only man to ever pay her any attention. How embarrassing I must look. How could Shiloh even like me? She probably didn’t anymore, not after what I’d done—using magic against her like that. The look on her face still made me constrict in agony.
Would she be at the cemetery with me that night?
The thought crossed my mind how she might have already chosen to move on and not say goodbye, and that I’d never see her again.
The floorboard creaked as I pulled open my bedroom door.
I was ready to go to the graveyard to see Shiloh, no, to see Alaric, right?
All of a sudden, a frigid December gust of icy, cold wind blew from my hallway. My fireplace extinguished immediately, along with every candle, lantern, and light in the room and hall. The room filled with pale blue light as an eerie, long figure loomed in my doorway.
A lingering, dark silhouette of a woman.
Her face long and full of sorrow. My mouth dried, feeling her sadness pour into me.
How did she get past my protective wards?
Ghosts never found me within my home. This spirit, this restless ghost. Despite the fear that inched into my body at the cold, dark, and unwelcome intrusion, I opened my mouth to greet her, when she shrieked a loud, piercing cry.
My body trembled as she drifted closer, her hair floating in tendrils like snakes around her head as she spoke. “You have what I want, and you will give it to me.”
Shiloh Solair
With all my muscle and strength, all the biceps built from digging grave plots and hauling coffins, none of it was ever any match for the white witch’s power.
What an infuriatingly sexy discovery. I should have been mad, and at first, I was absolutely a little hurt that she would do such a thing, but then as I stood there unable to move, I just thought, goddamn, what a force she was.
Lunette was small but mighty, powerful and sure, meek but strong.
I wouldn’t stop chasing after her. No, she’d have to do a lot more than electric shock me into submission to stay away from her.
Nothing could do that. Even when I eventually thawed and marched toward her manor to find her—of course, I couldn’t get past the gate.
It was as if an invisible wall kept me at bay, and no matter how hard I pushed, I couldn’t penetrate it.
I knew where she’d be going, though, so I’d meet her there.
The graveyard was chilly, and almost all the leaves had fallen from the trees.
A few sparse memories fluttered back to mind of my time there.
My engrained routine beckoned me to clean up, even the aisles, gather the fallen brush.
Every day of my living life had been spent digging, raking, and clearing plots.
Something had happened to me, though. Something to make me forget, something to make me die.
If only I could recall it. The moon was almost to its highest point in the sky, yet my swaying, witchy bride was not at Alaric’s grave. Odd, but I was sure she’d arrive.