Dolgner Ghost of a Whisper

Book 2 of the Betty Boo, Ghost Hunter Series
1. Auflage 2011
ISBN: 978-0-9849156-0-6
Verlag: Redglare Press
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 300 Seiten

Life is good for Betty 'Boo' Boorman. Things are going great with her demon boyfriend Maxwell, and her paranormal investigation team is busier than ever as Halloween approaches. But things go to hell-literally-when Maxwell is banished by a demon hunter. As Betty tries to cope with her grief, another demon enters her life, and he offers her a deal: Betty's soul for Maxwell's rescue. Time is running out for Betty to make a decision, and the ghosts of Savannah, Georgia, aren't making the task any easier. Cryptic messages from the ghost of a little girl seem to be directed at Betty, but are they a warning or a plea for help?

Autoren/Hrsg.

Dolgner, Beth

Leseproben

Chapter 1

“You have to admit it’s funny.”

“And you have to admit that it’s the best barbeque in Savannah.”

I pointed at my half-devoured pulled pork sandwich. “You’ll get no arguments from me on that point. But really, how did you ever decide to come to a place called Angel’s?”

Maxwell shrugged. “A business associate suggested we have lunch here one day.” He paused to delicately lick stray barbeque sauce off one finger. “I was hooked.”

I giggled. The idea of my boyfriend—who just so happens to be a demon—eating at a place called Angel’s was nearly as funny as the picture he currently presented. The sleeves of Maxwell’s tailored button-down shirt were rolled up, and he was leaning forward over the table so as not to drop any sauce on himself or his dark gray slacks.

Maxwell looked up at me with his crystal blue eyes and gave me a wicked wink. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were laughing at me.”

I smiled in response. Maxwell and I had been dating for a couple of weeks now, and it was so far, so good. Well, after a bit of a rough start, during which I broke up with him, he saved my life, and a few people died.

Other than all of that, it had been going great. I hadn’t believed Maxwell was really a demon at first, but he had proved it on more than one occasion. He was responsible for two of those dead bodies.

I was responsible for the third. I was still coming to terms with that little tidbit. How did I, the perfectly normal Betty Boorman, wind up killing someone? Of course, I constantly reminded my conscience, it was either kill or be killed, and I’m just not ready to go yet. Especially when I finally had a boyfriend who, aside from being of the demonic persuasion, was a lot of fun, treated me well, and made me happy.

Finally, I put down my sandwich and wiped my hands with a paper towel. There were only a few other diners since it was six o’clock on a Monday evening. It was awfully early for dinner, but Maxwell was leaving town for a few days for work, so it was the best we could do. We were sitting at a rickety little table outside the old carriage house that the restaurant calls home, enjoying the late-September breeze.

“What are you going to get into while I’m gone?” Maxwell asked.

“I’ll have plenty to keep me busy. We’re getting phone calls and emails every day! Some of them are probably false alarms, others sound like people with mental issues, and a handful might actually be legitimate hauntings.”

“Isn’t that why Daisy volunteered to be case manager? To keep The Seekers from going on a wild goose chase every night?”

I nodded. “Yes, but it can be tough learning how to sort the urgent cases from the, well, the rest of them. I’m helping out as much as I can.”

The Savannah Spirit Seekers consists of me, my best friend Daisy, her husband Shaun, and Lou, our all-around tech genius. The four of us go on paranormal investigations, something we started doing in college. We used to get requests to investigate maybe two or three times a month. Now we were getting that many requests in a day, and we were, frankly, overwhelmed.

I blamed Carter for our newfound fame. Carter Lansford might be my nemesis, but he was really talented at garnering publicity. When we had worked with his team, East Coast Paranormal Authorities, on a haunting at the Everett-Tattnall House earlier this month, Carter had managed to get us in front of the media. Twice.

As a result, I was now the latest local celebrity (though I was still nothing compared to Carter, who had a gaggle of fans and a book out), and The Seekers were almost as popular as Carter’s team.

“I don’t know how he does it,” I said.

“Who?”

“Carter. How does he handle all this publicity? All these requests? I feel bad when we have to turn people down, but there’s just nothing we can do about it. We can’t handle every case.”

“He’s had years of practice at being the center of attention. Besides, it will calm down in a few weeks.” Maxwell reached across the table and put his hand over mine. “I’m glad you’ve been so busy with the investigations, but I’m hoping you will keep the Saturday after next open for me.”

I perked up. “Of course. What’s going on then?”

“A Halloween party at Fort Pulaski. It’s a little early in the month, but they didn’t want to overlap with everything else going on in Savannah closer to the end of October.”

Savannah, Georgia, does love Halloween. Considering it’s the most haunted city in America, it makes perfect sense that its living residents would love the chance to do some haunting of their own once a year.

“It’s going to be a formal event, so no costumes,” Maxwell continued, “but I thought you’d enjoy being out at the Fort at night.”

I smiled. “It sounds fantastic. You know I’d love to go with you.”

Maxwell made a face of mock relief. “Oh, good. I was worried you’d say no.”

“But I will have to buy a dress. I don’t have anything formal.”

“Want me to come along? I can zip them up for you, then unzip them when you’re ready to try on the next one.”

“Something tells me I wouldn’t get a lot accomplished with you helping me out of those dresses,” I said.

“Probably not. It would probably wind up like Saturday night did, when I helped you unbutton your blouse, and your jeans…”

I could feel my cheeks blushing at the memory of our date Saturday night. Or, more specifically, the end of our date when Maxwell had brought me back to my apartment. Because he’s a demon, Maxwell’s temperature runs really high, so his skin is always warm to the touch. When it comes to any physical activity, he’s positively burning up. What that means for me is that sex with Maxwell is different—and better—than anything I’ve known previously. Saturday night had been a perfect example of that, as he’d sent waves of heat coursing through my body with every movement he made.

I snapped out of my reverie to see Maxwell looking at his watch. He looked incredibly handsome, as usual. His pale skin, high cheekbones, and shock of black hair were a striking combination. He was tall and thin, and I admired how gracefully he moved.

“Time to go?” I asked.

Maxwell nodded. “I’m afraid so. I’ve got to get you home so I can make it to the airport on time.”

I nodded, disappointed that our early date was already coming to a close. Maxwell didn’t have to work a lot—he’d spent years building his business and now had the luxury of trusting other people to handle its day-to-day operations—but every now and then he had to conduct things himself.

We rose and began to walk. Since it was such a nice evening, we’d decided to walk from my apartment to the restaurant, even though it was on the opposite side of Savannah’s historic district from where I lived. Maxwell took my hand as we strolled through the old streets and tree-shaded squares.

We were back at my apartment all too soon.

I opened the door and called inside. “Hi, Mina. Hello, Lieutenant Griffin.”

Mina is my cat. Lieutenant Ambrose Griffin is my Spirit Sentry. The former Confederate soldier was killed at Fort Pulaski during the Civil War, and Maxell brought me his ghost as a gift. Lieutenant Griffin apparently has no desire to cross over, and he seemed happy to give up guard duty at the fort for guard duty at my apartment. I was still getting used to living with a ghost. He didn’t do much—though he did like to bang on my window blinds—but I still wasn’t quite comfortable with him. After all, he could be peeking in on me when I changed or took a shower. I hoped he had more respect than that, but ghosts tend to have the same personality traits in death as they did in life. For all I knew, Lieutenant Griffin had been a Peeping Tom in his living years.

In answer to my arrival, the blinds on my living room window swayed ever so slightly.

“I’m glad he’s working out well,” Maxwell said, following me inside.

“I haven’t needed his protection yet. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

“Well, at any rate, I feel much better leaving you this week, knowing that he’s keeping an eye on things.” Maxwell turned to me and pulled me close, wrapping his arms around my waist. He leaned in and kissed me, the warmth of his lips sending chills down my spine.

“I’ll miss you,” I said.

“I’ll miss you, too. I’m coming straight here when I get back on Saturday night.”

I had already asked Maxwell why he couldn’t just materialize in Washington, D.C., where he was going. I reasoned that it would be faster, cheaper, and a whole lot flashier of a way to travel. Maxwell had answered that, while he can materialize from place to place, his luggage cannot. Apparently it had taken him a couple hundred years to learn how to dematerialize without leaving his clothes behind. He told wild tales about scaring women during the Middle Ages when a naked demon suddenly appeared in front of them.

“Call me when you get in to D.C. tonight,” I instructed. “I...