Page 8 of Wedding Cake Carnage
And boyfriends were meant to be found.
I’m coming for you, Everett.
Just you wait and see.
Chapter 3
Dinner at my mother’s haunted bed and breakfast isn’t usually something I dread, but on a night like tonight, one that has promised to bring forth every new relative I never really wanted to meet, it’s absolute agony just walking through the door.
“You’ve got this, Lottie.” Noah pulls me in for a quick embrace, and his familiar spiced cologne permeates me like a membrane.
“I wouldn’t have anything without you—and I’m specifically referencing my sanity.” I bite down over my lip as I bear into his verdant green eyes. “Partially because you forced me to show up, and partially because your support has buoyed me on during everything I’ve been through these past few weeks.” Tears come without warning. “Thank you for that.”
“Hey, it’s nothing.” He picks up my hand and kisses the back of it. “You’re going to get through tonight like a champ. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
“And afterwards, we can go back to my place and try to figure out how to get Everett back to safety.” It’s what we’ve done for the last two weeks to no avail, but it doesn’t mean I’m giving up.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
My mother’s B&B is quaint, spacious, and is booked for the foreseeable future, no thanks to the haunted Honey Hollow tours she runs. Let’s just say that my mother has capitalized brilliantly off the fact she has a couple of spooks running around this place.
A few months back, my mother’s B&B was hurting for business, and coincidentally there was the ghost of a bear running amuck through the place while she hosted the birthday of one of her dear friends. Sadly, her friend passed away that day, and half the town is now convinced it’s Eve Hollister’s ghost that haunts these crooked halls, but it’s not Eve Hollister at all. It’s Greer Giles, a girl who perished a few months back.
Greer was in her mid-twenties, beautiful, mean-spirited, and definitely trying to sink her hooks into Everett. But all of that ended the day she was shot in the back, and she’s since decided to eschew paradise and take up the challenge of haunting my mother’s B&B along with her two-hundred-year-old boy toy, Winslow Decker. Greer is gorgeous with long black hair and a face that could grace any magazine cover—even in her rather deathly pale state. Winslow has light brown wavy hair and enough facial scruff to ensure he’s beyond adorable. They really are a cute pair.
An ethereal glow illuminates the hall that leads to the grand room and I lead Noah in that direction. That glow is usually indicative of a supernatural presence, but instead of finding Greer Giles’ smiling face or Winslow Decker’s happy-to-see me countenance, I find a young girl with long dark hair covering her face, dressed in a throwback pinafore, dirty scraped knees, scuffed Mary Jane slippers—and is that a bloody knife dangling from her hand?
Something between a scream and a gasp escapes me. “Holy stars!” I howl as I bury my face in Noah’s chest once again.
“What is it, Lot?” I can feel his heart begin to hammer under my cheek. “Is it the tiger again?”
“I wish!” I hiss as I summon the bravery to glance back, only to find Greer and Winslow tending to the child. Greer does her best to comb the girl’s hair back while the child is busy trying to decapitate Greer as a thank you. “Greer!” I hustle Noah over with me, securing my hand over his so he can hear the entire conversation. A few months back, I discovered that I act as a conduit, and that if someone holds my hand, they can hear the dead, too. “What in heaven’s name is going on over here?” I jump out of the way as the girl wildly brandishes the machete she’s taken a serious liking to.
“Now, now.” Greer licks her fingers and slicks the girl’s hair away from her face, and I gasp at the sight of her. She’s gorgeous. A beautiful button nose, sparkling rainbow-colored eyes, and perfect bowtie lips. She looks practically harmless now that Greer has tamed her mane. The girl stomps forward and growls out a roar that can rival any tiger on earth or in heaven.
“Geez.” Noah jumps back, his hand disconnecting briefly from mine. “What the heck was that? Is that the lion?”
“Tiger. And no, it wasn’t him. It’s a little girl.” I bend over, hoping not to startle the tiny poltergeist bent on being a menace. “What’s your name, sweetie? And why aren’t you in paradise?”
The little girl spikes the knife into the floor between my feet as if it were a javelin.
Winslow chortles as if it were adorable. “Just the way I taught her. We’ve been practicing out back all morning.”
Greer takes up the little girl’s hand and the little girl scowls ten times harder. “Her name is Azalea. Isn’t that beautiful?”
“Lea,” she snips back. “Nobody dares call me Azalea.”
Noah takes a breath. I can tell this is freaking him out about as much as it’s freaking me out, and I should be used to all the freak-freakery that the other side can muster by now.
“Lea,” I say. “That is beautiful. My name is Carlotta, and nobody dares call me anything but Lottie.”
Lea’s eyes grow wide. “Or else?” She looks almost amused by my proclamation.
“Orelse,” I mimic while slashing my throat with my finger. “So are you new to Honey Hollow?”
“Oh heavens no,” she replies, sounding a bit more chipper and looking decidedly less deadlier than a few minutes ago. “My family was slaughtered right here over this very bed and breakfast. I’ve been hiding out, lying in wait, ready and willing to avenge their blood.”
Lovely.