Most don’t even know they’re dead.
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“Then we move on to the next step. Salt lines, burning sage—”
“Sounds like magic,” I interrupt, knowing the Order’s stance on anything that could be deemed supernatural.
“I suppose, though you don’t have to be a witch to pour salt around a building.” He rests a hand on my thigh. “There was this one time when we could not for the life of us rid a house of the spirit haunting it. So, after it was blessed by a priest, we filled PVC pipes with salt and buried them around the house.” He shrugs. “It kept the spirit and any other demons away—for a time, at least.”
“That’s very innovative. I’m hoping all we need this time is for me to communicate with the spirits and help them pass on. Everyone wins that way. Though, if they’re just redundant loops, there’s nothing to be scared of.”
“People were shoved and clawed,” Ethan reminds me. “Whatever we’re going up against isn’t harmless.”
“Are you sure it’s a ghost problem and not something bigger?”
“No,” he says honestly. “Which is why an experienced Order member needs to be there. A number of different demons can mimic poltergeist activity.”
“Well, I’ll bring the enchanted dagger just in case.” I get to my feet and go into my closet to change out of the dress and into jeans and a dark purple sweater. We have a bit more time before we have to leave, so Ethan and I go downstairs and I’m happily surprised to find Nikolai, or Nik as I call him, in the kitchen, making a pot of traditional fae vegetable stew. He’s been our unofficial druid-roommate for a few weeks now, and I really like having him.
I help him cook and carefully use my gift of fire-magic to heat up and toast a few slices of bread. I burned the first one, but the others turned out perfect.
“I’m not sure when we’ll be back,” I tell Nik. “The horses are all in and fed, but if you want to throw everyone another flake of hay before you go to bed, they’d appreciate it.”
“Of course, milady,” Nik replies, flitting about the kitchen as he cleans things up. It’s odd, having a faery as an unofficial roommate, but he fits in with us and hasn’t caused any problems. He’s quickly becoming a friend and I won’t complain about someone who cooks and cleans up after themselves. “Be careful out there. Tomorrow is the full moon.”
“Right. I set an alarm on my phone to remind me so I can charge my crystals.”
“You can start now,” he says. “The moon phase lasts for three days, you know. The day before, the day of, and the day after. I’ve found that some spells actually work better when done the day before the actual full moon. The energy is still gathering at that point, which again, makes me want to bid you caution.”
“We’ll be fine,” Ethan answers from the library, which is next to the kitchen. “Ghosts won’t be an issue for Anora.” He holds up a shotgun. “And if they are, I’ll handle it.”
“You can’t shoot a ghost,” Nik mumbles under his breath and I just shake my head. “And you,” I start, dropping down so I can give Hunter a hug. “Keep the house safe. I’ll miss you.”
My familiar nudges me and licks my face, letting me know he’s going to miss me too. We decided that having me pose as a new recruit was pushing it enough. Having me show up with a big ass German shepherd could be the thing that goes too far.
“Am I dressed appropriately?” I ask, seeing Ethan in his usual jeans, long sleeve Henley shirt, and jacket. “Should I wear gym shoes or boots?”
“You’re overthinking it, babe. Wear what’s comfortable.”
“Both shoes are comfortable. Though my paddock boots are wonderfully worn-in.” I fill up a water bottle, double check that my gloves are in my pocket, and put on the new barn coat I ordered to replace the one that got destroyed by a demon not that long ago.
We get into Ethan’s Jeep, and he puts a duffle bag full of weapons in the back—just in case. The ghost hunts I’ve been on in a group setting have all been for fun, and none of the locations were haunted in such a capacity to come close to being dangerous.
Ethan plugs the address into his GPS, and an hour and twenty minutes later, we arrive at the apartment complex. I did some Googling while we drove and know that this block of housing was built in the 1930s. It had shops on the first floor and apartments on the second, third, and fourth. There was a doctor’s office on the second floor that got shut down in the 1950s for performing abortions. The space was a slew of things since then: hair salon, yoga studio, male “entertainment club” and, most recently, therapist offices.
The building was condemned for mold about twenty years ago and sat empty for five years. Squatters had moved in, and a fire thirteen years ago killed five of them. The building was set to be demolished when local history buffs stepped in and saved it, though it’s been empty ever since.
The new owner is some big-time investor who plans on renovating the least amount he can do and charge an insane amount for “historic” apartments in the area. And since he’s only paying the Order to get rid of the ghosts, I’m guessing the payout is more than decent.
For the Order higher-ups, that is.
Typically, Ethan would get paid to do a job like this. The amount varies by difficulty, but to me, it’s just another way the Order makes the hunters dependent on them. When your life is spent traveling from state-to-state hunting demons, it’s not like you can hold down a regular job. On paper, the whole idea of the Order works. You get a group of demon hunters together who can organize and plan, and people desperate enough to save their families.
Still, the whole thing rubs me the wrong way. You don’t have to pay the police—not directly at least—before they show up when you call 911. Then again, it’s not like tax-payer dollars can go toward ghost removal.
“Do I need a fake name?” I ask, unbuckling my seatbelt when Ethan puts his Jeep in park. “To go with the fake story that I’m just some normal girl who happened to get mixed up with the Pricolici demons because my aunt made a demon deal and you swooped in to save the day?”
Ethan turns, one brow raised. “No, and that’s the story you’re going with?”
I shrug. “Why not? Other hunters already know the Pricolici were sent after me, right? They don’t know the why or the how, but they know the…the…I got nothing. But you know what I mean, right?”
“I thought I did.” He kills the engine and undoes his seatbelt. “That story will check out. I promise you these hunters are definitely going to look into who you are after this.”
“Because I’m a medium-slash-former-demon-bait?”
He flashes a cocky grin. “Because you’re my girlfriend.”
Rolling my eyes, I get out of the car and wait a beat so Ethan can grab his bag of weapons. There are three other cars here: an old Chevy pickup, a white SUV with a stick family on the back, and a dented-up Honda. Not exactly what I had in mind when I thought of meeting up with a bunch of other hunters.
Ethan and I walk over matted down dead grass, indented from the construction crew driving around this place. The outside of the building is dark and covered in vines. Most of the windows on the first floor are still boarded up, and the others on the second and third floor are either broken or covered in graffiti. Curtains hang out of a window on the third story, damp and long forgotten.