Undead and Unwelcome

Chapter 31

Jess had gone back to her room to get dressed for the Council, and Sinclair was working away at his laptop, when I decided to get some fresh air. I was taking a stroll down the beach when I saw the ghost. She waved at me tentatively, and I waved back.

This had been one of the hardest things for me to get used to, almost as difficult to accept as the fact that I had to drink blood to survive. Like the kid from The Sixth Sense, I saw dead people. Also like that kid, they tended to scare the crap out of me. Given how scared I was of ghosts and zombies, I wasn’t unaware of the irony that I was now one of the monsters. Didn’t like it, but understood the grisly joke life (or death) had played on me.

Unfortunately, ignoring the ghosts just made it worse . . . When they saw I wasn’t hopping to obey their edicts from beyond the grave, they got more aggressive. Hung around all the time. Popped out of nowhere when you were, say, having sex with your husband.

My favorite ghost—Cathie, victim of the serial killer Laura had killed—and my least favorite—the Ant—both came and went without warning. In fact, I hadn’t seen Cathie in almost a year. This bummed me out a bit, and when I thought of her I always hoped she’d gone on to better things.

As for the Ant, I was just grateful she’d disappeared and hadn’t come back. Yet.

So, though I didn’t much want to, I walked up to the ghost and said howdy.

“Excuse me,” she said politely, interrupting me mid introduction. “But how in the world can you see me?”

“Vampire.”

“But there are no vampires. And it’s still light out.”

“There are, and it is, but it’s a long story, so why don’t you just tell me why you’re haunting the beach so we can get on with our lives? Or deaths. What-​ever.”

The ghost, a pale brunette with her hair pulled back in a bun, appeared to think that over for a bit. She was wearing clothes that were clearly from the 1960s, poor thing (of all the decades to be trapped in, fashion-​wise!), and was wearing cat’s-​eye glasses. We were far enough down the beach that my feet were getting wet as the waves slopped over them, but they just went right through the ghost’s shoes without doing any damage. Luckily, I was wearing last year’s sandals.

“Would you mind giving a message to my son?”

“If I can find him, sure.”

“Would you please tell him I would prefer he not name his unborn child after me?”

“Seriously? That’s it? That’s why your spirit can’t rest?”

“My name is Theodocia,” she said.

“Oh.” The horror! “Jeez. I’m really sorry. I’ll be glad to pass that on for you.”

“Thank you kindly.”