Page 59 of Stalked By Shadows

The kids formed an awkward line and we all posed. The kids with their backpack ghost hunting kits, T-shirts, and superhero gloves, and me looking like a big doofus on the end in my gloves, which Micah informed me were mermaid scales not dragon scales.

“Mermaids are ocean dragons,” I informed him. To which he shook his head like I was too much.

The parents and even Micah snapped pictures. I got hugs all around and Micah got smiles and ‘thank yous’ from the whole group.

Of all the tours so far, this had been my favorite. I got to see a very animated side of Micah as he told stories and answered questions that weren’t all about gloom and doom. The unguarded version of him was a beautiful thing. A little raw, yes, but inspiring.

Once everyone had wandered off to find dinner I snuck up beside Micah and kissed him on the cheek, then took a hold of his hand and squeezed it gently.

“What was that for?” he wanted to know.

“For giving those kids an amazing night they will not long forget. I didn’t even know there was a kid’s tour. I think I like this one best.”

“Just once a week on Saturday’s,” Micah said. We walked together toward the shop. “I think I’m the only one that does them regularly.”

Those kids had thought Micah hung the moon as they listened to the facts. “Bet if all their history classes were like that, they’d be top students in no time.”

Micah smiled. It appeared genuine this time. “I had a history teacher as a kid who told us stories about our school being haunted. Me and a couple other kids often tried exploring the school at night. Got in trouble more than once for being there when we shouldn’t, but we never saw anything. I remember his stories though. Maybe that’s why I became a history buff.”

“Haunted school, eh? You were even hunting ghosts as a kid? Weirdo,” I teased.

He shrugged. “It was all a game back then.”

It was still a bit of a game now. Cat and mouse. I’d posted my pictures to his Facebook group and watched the comments and speculation rise without getting involved, since Micah suggested I leave all of that to the group.

“Kids don’t expect the same things as adults do. Adults want to be terrified. They want to be uncomfortable, even if it makes them angry sometimes. Kids want to feel like there is a purpose to everything. Purpose means safety. That’s why I try to keep it very positive for the kids.”

“Well I think you did an amazing job.” And I’d gotten to see the real Micah, unguarded and joyous, which was a thing to behold. “How come they are only on Saturdays? The kid one?”

“Weekends are easier if kids are out of school or on vacation with their family. Earlier in the day people are on bayou tours and stuff. I found Saturday night at five is the most accessible for families, though I’ve been known to do exclusive tours if someone is visiting and can’t make the Saturday. Some people bitch about exposing kids to the ‘occult,’ but I think it keeps their minds open, questioning, exploring, and learning,” Micah said.

“That makes sense to me. Obviously the parents who bring their kids think so too.”

“Most of the time. I’ve had a few complain because I didn’t focus more on the church, and then others complain when I focus too much on church history. Nothing is ever perfect.”

I tugged him closer and wrapped an arm around his waist so I could draw him in for another hug. “Sorry,” I said. “I needed to hug you. Sometimes I’m touchy-feely.”

He accepted my hug and returned it with one of his own. “I’m okay with touchy-feely.”

We separated and walked a little longer in silence, but Micah tugged me away from the street that would have taken us back to Simply Crafty.

We walked by Café Du Monde and I admitted to myself that the smell of pastry and sugar made me hungry. “Are we in a rush to get back?” I asked him as we passed the shop that made pralines.

“Not really. Sky has the shop until we get there.”

“Good,” I said, pointing toward the praline shop. “Can we get some?” I asked as my stomach rumbled. I needed to get better at eating regular meals.

He narrowed his eyes like he was on to me. “Okay.”

I sighed happily and raced toward the shop. We ate, nibbling pralines and ethnic food from the open market area, while browsing a few shops on the way. I’d found the shop Sky had gotten her fairy light feeders from and used Lukas’s credit card to purchase a handful of large, handmade, dreamcatchers with elaborate colors, beads, and wrapping, with the plan to put them around the windows in Micah’s house.

“I’m going to owe Lukas all of my upcoming paychecks,” I told Micah as he raised a brow at my purchases. “But I figure we should cover the bases of as many religions as we can, right?” The little money I got from my military medical discharge was already going to him no matter how much he complained about it.

Micah shrugged. “I guess.” He obviously had no expectation of anything helping. But that was okay. I had enough hope for the both of us.

Back out on the street Micah looked longingly at a quilt shop nestled into one of the bottom floors of the rowhouses across from the boardwalk where we’d been. “Let’s go in,” I said steering him that way.

“I don’t need more fabric.” His cheeks flushed pink. “I’m already a bit of a fabric hoarder.” Though from what I’d seen he didn’t have all that much and it was very well organized. Unless he had a storage unit somewhere full of the stuff.