Page 58 of Stalked By Shadows
“Is the kid’s tour different?” I asked.
“Earlier. Starts at 5, is only an hour. It’s focused for kids under twelve. Accompanied by their parents of course, but the stories are more PG and the route shorter. I focus a lot on history that the kids can relate to. Stories of other kids, more often who were heroes rather than victims, though they do like a good creepy story or two.” Micah looked at me. “Are you up for an open-to-close shift today?”
I nodded, looking over the garden one more time. The path was lined with cats, fairy feeders, and monitored by cameras. I felt like it was as safe as I had the power to make it. And while I couldn’t chase away the ghosts that haunted Micah’s thoughts, I hoped to scare off whatever it was that lingered in his garden. Even if it was for a selfish reason like seeing him drop his guard a little.
Chapter 18
Opening the shop was as easy as it sounded. A three-step process of unlocking the door, disarming the alarm, and putting the chalkboard sign on the walk downstairs. The first few hours were stocking, ringing up the steady stream of Saturday customers, and preparing for the kids tour.
Micah plugged in his phone to a little speaker system and played pop music in the shop. I’d never taken him for a Justin fan but had to admit the tunes were catchy. Both Justins.
“Do you have a thing for Justins or for blonds?” I asked Micah.
“I have Taylor on this mix too. Some Pink as well.”
“So it’s the blonds?” I said giving him a big grin.
He glanced at my hair, which was looking good with the help of whatever his little supply of secret Japanese inscribed products were. “Yep.”
The most recent of the Justin pop songs came on and I swept Micah up into my arms for a dance. I was an awful dancer, but that didn’t mean I never danced. He laughed and tried to sway with me. We ended up simply shaking our asses around the store.
Customers laughed and waved when they came in, but no one said anything bad. The song ended and I wrapped an arm around Micah’s waist, pulling him into a hug. We were both breathing hard and smiling. Micah’s expression open and real. Not an act or a mask, but actual joy. I reveled in it, while gifting him with a kiss on the cheek, then let him go so I could attend to the customers.
Micah worked on creating a small backpack full of fun things for each of the registered kids. I stuffed them with stickers, a T-shirt, some well-marked allergy free candy, and a voodoo doll that was really a catnip stuffed cat toy. The pack was a little ingenious as it was all safe stuff that the kids would think was very unique and paranormal.
He also had a box of stretchy fingerless gloves made from shiny fabrics that looked like superhero-type designs. “What are these?” I asked pawing through the box. There was a couple of sets that looked like dragon scales. I pulled them out and found them stretchy enough to fit.
“Sometimes the kids get scared, even though I keep it low key. So they all get a set of superpowers to take with them, just in case,” Micah said. “When the parents sign up the kids I usually ask if they have a favorite superhero. Sometimes the kids are autistic and either love or hate certain colors, so I always have a variety.”
That was insanely thoughtful of him. The gloves went up over my forearms, fitting pretty snug. But if they were kid sizes that made sense.
“You can keep those if you want,” Micah said. “There are only two different sizes and I try to make a few of each pattern so the kids all get what they want. I have more in back too if I run low. They only take a few minutes to make.”
I flexed my arms pretending the gloves gave me magic powers. “What do you think? Do I look like I have superpowers, or like I’m really constipated?” I asked him as I posed.
He laughed. “You’re such a dork.”
I couldn’t help but smile at the ease of his laughter. Some of the wall was coming down around his emotions, and that thrilled me.
The kids began arriving at four thirty, all excited and eyes aglow as they prepared for hunting ghosts. Their parents took pictures as Micah performed a ‘ritual’ on each of them, blessing the kids with ‘magic’ to prevent ghosts from clinging to them. Each kid chose a pair of superhero gloves. I got down on my knees and flexed in poses with them, showing them how to ward off evil with the turn of their wrist. Okay, it was a little gay and over-the-top RuPaul-ish, but no one protested and the kids thought it was great. Then the group shopped until the last of the kids had all arrived.
Finally at five o’clock, with Sky behind the register to cover, Micah and I led the kids and their parents out into the Square to begin their ghostly journey. I quickly learned the reason that there had been no walk-through of the kid’s tour was because there was nothing really scary that could happen on the kids tour. Micah told stories, mostly history, and answered questions.
“Have you ever seen a ghost?” One of the kids asked me.
“Yep,” I told him.
“Were you scared?”
“No. Ghosts can’t hurt you.” At least I didn’t think they could.
“Why do they stick around then?” Asked another girl who had been the sort of smarty-pants of the group so far.
“I’m not sure they do. I think they come to visit when they know people will be by.” I had no idea if I was giving the right answers or not. Me and kids weren’t a normal combination, though Micah seemed a pro with them. In fact, I’d never seen him so engaged as he was with the kids. No mask, no acting, just earnest storytelling.
We passed Lafayette’s Bar and Micah told tales of pirates that had all the kids excitedly searching the streets for signs of men with peg legs and parrots. The plaque on the side of the building gave a brief overview of the property which made me think Micah’s history was spot on. The path around the Quarter was short and detailed. There was not one boo-wiggly on the entire tour.
We ended up back in the Square, all the kids bubbling with excitement having taken pictures with their phones or their parents’ phone and hoping for ghosts to appear. I called for them all to line up, “Superheroes present!” I called.