She deflated a bit. “Maybe curse is too strong of a word. We could do something, a spell maybe, that would make him feel sorry for being a cheating butt face.” Olivia tapped her fingers on the glass countertop.
There she went with the we again. I didn’t come back into town to cast spells on people. “That answer is no. I’m not that kind of a witch.”
It was true. I wasn’t. Not really. If I wanted to, and I really didn’t, I could raise the dead, create undead creatures, and other dark magic that gave witches a bad name in the first place. Necromancers were good like that.
My magic was stronger than the average necromancer. Plus, I also had witch magic. I was a magical hybrid, one of a kind. It was a secret I planned to take to my grave.
She gave me big eyes and a pouty lip. “Maybe just a little something? Like give him ED for a month?”
I snorted then covered my mouth. The last thing I needed to do was encourage Olivia. “That is still doing harm.”
Cheating wasn’t a big enough offense for me to risk Karma paying me a visit. I wasn’t about to say that out loud because Olivia would take it and run. No doubt she’d dig up more reasons to make the cheater pay.
A customer came in, nodded at us, and moved down one of the aisles of books. Olivia shrugged. “It was worth a shot. I guess I can wait for Karma to catch up with him.”
Had she read my mind? “And she will. Eventually.”
Olivia’s eyes widened. “Do you know Karma? Maybe you can call her?”
I tried so hard not to laugh and failed. “No, I don’t know Karma. She might not be a person.”
Glancing toward the bookshelves, Olivia tapped her fingers on the glass countertop then checked her watch. “I need to go. It’s my turn to bake cupcakes for the kids today. We should do lunch tomorrow.”
I had a feeling that if I didn’t have lunch with her, she wouldn’t leave me alone. Then again, if I did, it was possible she still wouldn’t leave me alone. It was really a lose-lose situation. “Fine. Call me in the morning.”
I didn’t need to give her my number. She could get it from Sam’s phone.
She let out a small squeal and clapped her hands. “I’ll call you in the morning.”
Before I could tell her not too early, she was gone.
Great. If she called my phone before the sun fully rose, I would seriously reconsider my no cursing people policy.
The rest of the day was pretty steady and smooth. Customers came and went, many taking the time to chat about anything and anyone. Apparently, the hair salon wasn’t the only place where the grapevine started. In my case it ended because I wasn’t about to repeat half of what was said. Most of it was ludicrous anyway.
Thankfully, I didn’t recognize any more of my customers. And since they didn’t seem to recognize me, I didn’t offer up any personal information. The fewer people who knew I was here the better. I wasn’t staying.
While the store was empty, I took the opportunity to take out a small bag of trash. Clint had mentioned the dumpster behind the building, and I remembered the layout from my high school days. In a town this small, there wasn’t much to do but walk around—everywhere. Repeatedly.
The store wasn’t huge, yet it wasn’t tiny either. The front of the store was an open space with small round tables with comfy armchairs around them. There was a coffee station in the left-hand corner by the front door. The counter with the register was on the other side. Soft indie music drifted from the speakers mounted in the corners near the ceiling.
I breathed in the scents of coffee and books. This was my happy place. I couldn’t have picked a better place to work if I’d tried. I’d have to turn one of the rooms in my home in Philly into a coffee bar/library.
With the bag of trash in hand, I moved down one of the many aisles of books to the back of the store. As I passed the office, I stuck my head in and smiled at Clint. “I’m taking the trash out. Do you have any I can take?”
He looked up from his computer and smiled back. “Nope, mine’s not full yet.”
“Great.” I pushed out the back door and instantly felt magic in the air. Pausing outside the door, I scanned the area behind the strip mall. I didn’t see anything, but there was no denying that someone was there. Or had been there recently. Then a scent I’d never encountered but heard of hit me. A mixture of soil, rosemary, cedar, and a hint of sulfur. Those were a few of the ingredients to create a ghoul. Oh, no.
Surely there wasn’t a ghoul in Shipton. That would mean a necromancer lived here. As far as I knew I was the only one. Since I didn’t use my dark powers, ever, there shouldn’t have been a ghoul around.
Shaking off what had to be my overactive imagination, I slung the bag of trash up into the dumpster shared by the bookstore, bakery, and hair salon. As I turned back toward the building, I saw it. Rather, I saw him.
There was someone lying behind the dumpster.
Without giving it a second thought, I grabbed onto my powers and probed him. Those powers. The ones I tried so hard to pretend weren’t there. But I had to know. I had to check and see if the man was alive.
Damn it all to Hell. He most definitely wasn’t alive. In fact, he was so dead there was nothing there for me to grab hold of whatsoever. If I’d practiced necromancy, been in touch with my powers, and if I hadn’t locked them away years ago, I still wouldn’t have been able to sense any life in this man. He’d been gone that long and his soul had already moved on.
Only recent deaths still had enough life essence for a necromancer to tap into. Since I couldn’t sense him at all, I guessed that he’d been dead for at least twelve hours.
I didn’t have to physically touch him to know that. Shuddering, I closed my eyes. Please let him disappear.
No such luck. He was still there. At least his body was. Damn.
With shaking hands, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed 911. “Clint!” I yelled. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the man’s lower body. His upper body and head were hidden by the dumpster. I backed up and banged on the back door without taking my eyes off of the dead feet. “Clint!”
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Yeah, I just found a body. Behind Imaginary Homes Bookstore, partially hidden by the dumpster.” My voice was shaky with fear, but who could blame me? I hadn’t seen a dead body since… Well, not like this, not since I was ten.
The door slammed behind me. “Holy shit,” Clint whispered. “That’s a damn dead body. Holy shit.”
“No,” I answered the operator’s question, which I’d almost missed. “We won’t touch anything. I haven’t. I just threw a bag of trash in the dumpster.  Clint inched forward and put his fingers on the man’s leg. Checking for a pulse, I guessed.
“Back away and wait for the police to get there,” she said.
I grabbed Clint’s arm, and we shuffled to the front of the alley. He took a moment to walk around the building rather than touch the back door again and locked the front door before returning to me. “We’re closed,” he said in a nervous voice. “This is awful.”
I wrapped my arms around my middle and nodded. Death was not my thing. It would only lead to pain and memories I didn’t want to relive.