I watched through the window as Steve crossed the street before I made my way over to where Teddy waited. She still looked pensive but seemed less jittery. Steam fragrant with the herbs from the Honeybee relaxing green tea blend—peppermint, chamomile, holy basil, and fennel—wafted up from the mug she held in front of her hands. Lucy at work again. The half-eaten profiterole filled with lemon balm and ginger custard was another nice touch: tasty calories tinged with calming magic.
I sat down next to the young woman on the sofa and looked into her eyes. The circles around them were so dark I wondered if she’d slept at all the night before.
“How are you holding up?”
“Okay.” Her voice sounded reedy. Then she shook her head. “No. That’s not true.” She looked away as she set down her mug, paused, then met my gaze again. This time I saw a new determination. “Katie, I’ve dealt with spirits my whole life, sometimes less and certainly more since I started my ghost tour business. But none of them have hounded me like the woman who was killed last night.”
“Hounded you? What do you mean?”
She took a deep breath, looking thoughtful. “Spirits usually stick to a locale, you know. The place where they died, or at least a place that has meaning for them.”
I nodded. “That makes sense.” It was also what I’d heard before.
“I’ve heard of spirits that are attached to people, though.”
A gasp escaped from my lips before I could stop it. She looked at me curiously.
“What?”
Shaking my head, I said, “Nothing. At least nothing to do with what happened to Leigh Markes.” At least I didn’t think so. “Are you telling me she has attached to you?”
Teddy closed her eyes and gave a little nod. When she opened them, she was looking over my shoulder toward a bookshelf.
Slowly, I turned my head to look. Mungo was standing there, next to his bed. But he was looking up as if someone was standing next to him.
My lips parted as a shiver ran down my spine.
“She’s here?” I whispered.
“She’s here.” Teddy reached for her mug without looking away from the shelf and took a couple of big gulps from it. “And she’s still pretty mad.” She tore her gaze away from whatever she was looking at and directed it at me. “Have you found anything out? Anything at all?”
I settled back onto the cushion, feeling odd about facing away from the dead woman’s ghost. “I went to her gallery this morning and met her assistant. She seemed very upset about Leigh.” I glanced behind me. “Is she reacting to anything I’m saying?”
Teddy gave a quick shake of her head. “No. I don’t know if she even understands. She’s simply here—or wherever I am—and she’s angry, and she wants revenge. You’re lucky she didn’t attach to you instead since you’re the one she thinks can find her killer.”
“Well, I’m not sensitive in the same way you are,” I said. “She must know that somehow. If she attached to me, I might never even know. Right?”
Teddy sighed, which I took to be agreement.
But how had Leigh known to have Teddy ask for my help in finding her killer? Was there something I already knew but didn’t realize? Or had someone on the other side told her I investigated homicides? Who? Nonna? Connell?
That gave me pause. “Teddy, do you think Leigh might be in contact with other spirits on her side of the veil?”
She blinked, giving it some thought. “I honestly don’t know. I don’t see spirits talking to each other, really. They seem very . . . alone.”
“Lonely?”
Her lips pressed together, and her eyes grew sad. “A lot of times. Not always. Remember me talking about Little Gracie last night? In Johnson Square?”
I nodded.
“She’s not lonely. She greets everyone, still cheerful, oblivious to the fact that they’re unaware of her. Most of them, at least. I’ve run across quite a few sensitives on my tours.”
“But not like you are.”
“No. Not like I am.”
I let the thoughts ping-pong around my brain for a few moments. “You’re sure that if Leigh Markes’ killer is brought to justice, then she’ll leave you alone?”
“I am. I can’t tell you why I know that, but I do. Experience, maybe. Her entire connection to this plane is due to her desire to have exactly that: justice. She’ll fully move on to the next plane once she has it.”
“Okay, then. I’m working on it, along with the other members of the spellbook club, and we’re going to do the best we can.” I looked over my shoulder again. “I hope she understands that. We’re going to do the best we can,” I repeated a little louder.
Ben looked over at me from behind the coffee counter, and I felt my cheeks redden.
Teddy looked relieved. “Thanks. She seems to understand—a little, at least. She’s not so angry.”
“But she’s sticking with you, regardless.”
The young woman looked unhappy. “Please hurry,” she whispered.
As if a ghost couldn’t hear her.
As if I knew anything about ghosts.
Teddy reached for her boho bag, ready to leave.
“Um,” I said.
She paused.
“So you know how you said you’d heard about spirits attaching themselves to people? Even before this”—I gestured vaguely behind me—“happened to you?”
Suddenly wary, she nodded.
“Have you ever heard of a guardian spirit attaching itself to someone? A good one, you know? That chooses its, er, host?” It was as good a word as any to describe Declan. “One that actually chooses him at birth, maybe does so in each generation. Sticks to one family?”
She sat back, at ease. In her element. “Is this someone you know?”
I debated for a nanosecond how much to tell her, but the truth was I was desperate and needed all the help I could get to bring Connell back for Declan. And I needed it soon. Samhain was in only a few days.
So I told her the story, as succinctly as I could.
“At a séance a few years ago, the medium inadvertently contacted a spirit named Connell, who, it turned out, had been attached to my husband—this was before we were married—ever since he’d been born. He’d been a kind of guardian angel, warning him away from danger, pushing him toward opportunity, keeping him safe. This séance brought Connell out of the woodwork, so to speak.”
“How?” Teddy interrupted.
“He, er, takes over Declan’s physical body.”
She stared at me. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. It didn’t happen often, but it was clear when Connell was front and center. See, he has a distinct Irish brogue, and a certain way of . . .” I trailed off. Oh, well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “We’re pretty sure he’s a leprechaun, actually. He was attached to the McCarthy family—there are some very old photographs that show him, and I’ve, well, I actually met him in the Otherworld—shamanic journey, long story—and it’s the same guy.”
Teddy was frowning, but her voice was amused. “And I thought I had a weird life.”
“Yeah. Well. Anyway. Connell saved Declan’s life more than once, as well as mine. And a few months ago, he . . .” I rubbed my hands over my face. “Oh, goddess. How do I put this so I don’t sound too nuts?”
For the first time, I heard her laugh. It was full and throaty and genuine, bringing a smile to my own face. “I think you’re way too far past nuts to worry about it,” she said.
I grinned. “You might be right.” I paused. “So you know I’m a witch.”
She nodded, looking curious.
“And that means, well, magic.”
Another nod, a little slower.
“Now, everyone has access to magic. Not everyone does access it, and some people do it automatically without realizing it.”
Now she was studying me with interest.
“It’s all about intention, about focusing that intention in order to manifest an outcome. Rituals and spells and the like help do that.”
“So anyone can be a witch?”
My turn to nod. “I believe so. See, the Craft is about a certain way of harnessing the magic that’s in the world, a certain way of directing intention, with rules. When you’re working with others, like, say, a coven, then the sum is greater than the parts. And while everyone can access magic, there are some people who have a particular affinity for it. A gift. A talent.”
“Like a musician.”
I pointed at her. “Exactly! Anyone can learn an instrument and play tunes, but some people are gifted at it.”
“And I’m guessing you’re gifted at magic,” she said.
“I am,” I admitted. “So are the others in the spellbook club.”
“What does this have to do with your husband’s leprechaun guardian?”
“Right. Well, a few months back, my gift for magic was taken away. It would be like a musician not being able to play anymore, going suddenly tone deaf.”
“That sounds awful.”
“You have no idea.” I shuddered, remembering, then brought myself back to the point. “Connell was able to retrieve my gift and give it back to me. Thank goddess. But in the process, he was flung into the ether.”
She looked skeptical. “Wasn’t he already in the ether?”
“I guess. Yeah. But wherever he is now, he doesn’t have access to Declan. He’s too far away. I don’t know where that is, but it’s not too far to get him back from. See, I’ve been in contact with him, in a way. He’s not hurt. He’s just lost. And unhappy. And he’s not here to help Declan, who, by the way, is a firefighter. He’s had Connell guiding him for his whole life, and now he’s gone. Connell acted as his intuition, helped his instincts, steered him away from danger.”
Teddy was frowning. “That doesn’t sound good at all.”
“It isn’t.”
She leaned back against the arm of the sofa. “Why are you telling me all this?”
I leaned forward. “Because I want to try to bring Connell back, and I want to do it this Samhain.”
She looked confused.
“Halloween. At midnight if possible. And I need your help.”
“My help?” she yelped. Heads in the main seating area turned toward us.
“I’m putting together a spell to reach to the other side. But in order to not lose myself while I’m searching for Connell to bring him back, I need someone to ground me here, someone who can straddle the two planes. A tether. Someone like you.”
Teddy suddenly stood. “Oh, no. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.” She grabbed her bag and was backing away.
I rose, too. “I really think you can, hon. If only—”
She turned and hurried to the door, bursting through it to the street outside. I started to follow, but stopped. I’d only frighten her more if I ran after her.
Our resident author, who always worked with his earbuds in, turned his head from the still-closing door and looked at me with raised eyebrows. The other two customers had stopped their conversation and were staring across the room.
“Good lord, Katie! What did you say to that poor girl?” Lucy asked as she bustled over.
My voice was low. “I asked if she’d help us get Connell back on Samhain. It didn’t go over well.” I was surprised to hear tears in my voice. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been counting on Teddy’s help ever since the idea had occurred to me.
“Oh, Katie.” My aunt gave me a big hug, then held me at arm’s length. “You told her all about what happened?”
“I did.”
“It probably sounded a little, you know”—she smiled—“crazy?”
“I don’t think that was it. I mean, the woman sees dead people, for heaven’s sake. Has her whole life.”
Lucy led me back to the kitchen. “True. Something about the idea frightened her badly, though. It was all over her face.”
I frowned. On the one hand, I felt terrible for Teddy, the lonely outsider with a gift that was also part curse.
On the other hand, that gift/curse was the one thing I wanted—no, needed—to help retrieve the guardian spirit of the man I loved.
“That was Teddy LaRue,” Iris said as soon as we entered the kitchen.
Surprised, I asked, “You know her?”
Iris half shrugged. “Sort of. She was a year ahead of me in high school.” She squinted at me. “How do you know her?”
“She’s Gregory’s goshdaughter.” Seeing her confusion, I added, “You know, Jaida’s Gregory?”
Her face cleared. “Right. I hadn’t heard the term goshdaughter, but I like it. So, um . . . do you know Teddy very well?” She asked the question with such careful casualness, I paused in getting out the ingredients for a batch of cookies and turned to her.
“We just met the other night. She guides ghost tours.”
“Oh.” She made a little face. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
I leaned toward her. “Why is that?”
Instead of answering my question, Iris parried with another. “Is she involved in Zoe’s mom’s death?”
Behind her, I saw Lucy whirl in alarm.
“She hasn’t done anything wrong,” I said easily. “Now, why on earth would you ask such a thing?”
Iris looked away. When she looked back, she shrugged again. “I don’t know. I mean, I know you’re looking into what happened, along with the other spellbook club members. So I figure there’s something witchy involved. Because that’s what you do, right? And Teddy is . . .” She trailed off.
“Teddy is . . .” I prompted as Lucy came to stand beside me.
“She’s weird,” Iris said. “Everyone knows she’s strange. I mean, I know we’re supposed to accept everyone for who they are and how they act, but there’s something’s off about that girl. Always has been.” She took a deep breath. “Sorry.”
Lucy and I exchanged a glance, and then Lucy said, “I daresay you’re right. There is something different about Teddy. Just as there’s something different about Katie and me and you.”
Iris’ eyes widened. “Ohmagosh. She’s a witch?”
“No, that’s not what I mean.”
I tensed, hoping she wasn’t about to tell Iris about Teddy’s unique talent. I needn’t have worried about my kind and tactful aunt spilling any beans, though.
“All I mean is that everyone has their own gifts, their own burdens, and their own stories. You don’t know Teddy very well, at least from what you said. It might be best not to judge. People aren’t always who you think they are.”
Iris blinked, and suddenly her eyes filled with tears. “They sure aren’t!” She angrily wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.
Bewildered, Lucy and I went to where she stood on the other side of the counter.
“Something’s been going on the last couple of days,” I said. “Spill.”
She sniffled, then whirled and ran into the office.