Day of the Dead: A Gray Witch Novel (The Gray Witch Series Book 2) Read online

  Day Of The Dead

  A Gray Witch Novel

  R.R. Born

  Copyright © 2019 by Rachel Osborn

  Cover Design by OliviaProDesigns

  Cover Photos from Depositphotos/Prometeus/Flotsum

  Paperback 978-1-7324337-4-8

  Ebook 978-1-7324337-3-1

  First Edition - October 2019

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Afterword

  The Gray Witch Series

  For all those we lost too soon.

  Stan Adams, who always asked,

  “You done with that book yet, gal?”

  “Yeah, Stan. I’m done.”

  And

  Cindy Chao

  You were loved.

  Ānxí

  安息

  Chapter 1

  Beep, beep, beep.

  The blaring alarm wouldn’t stop. Ari covered her head with her pillow.

  I just laid down, she thought. It couldn’t be time for work. Then she smelled it. That wasn’t her alarm to get up. It was the smoke detector. The batteries should be dead in that thing, it’s gone off so many times this month.

  “Cher, you might want to get in there,” Remy said.

  She moved the pillow just enough to uncover her eyes and still block out the stench. Her ghostly best-friend hovered above her with his hands over his ears. When the second alarm went off, he shook his head and disappeared.

  Ari threw back the covers and noticed the little puffs of smoke invading her room from under the door. She opened the door to a wall of thick gray smoke. Waving with one hand and covering her mouth with the other, she made her way to the hallway detector and turned it off.

  She thought bringing a person back from the dead would be the most difficult thing she’d do in this lifetime. Wrong! Apparently, it would be teaching a 400-year-old witch how to use the microwave. Why wasn’t there a handbook for the recently deceased and resurrected?

  Ari fanned the smoke as she walked towards the kitchen. Nyah sat on the sofa rocking back and forth with her ears covered. After Ari turned off the kitchen detector, she called out. “What did you try to cook?”

  Remy chimed in, “The Orville.”

  Ahhhh, popcorn. The smell of hot, buttery popped corn could be the best aroma ever or when burnt like now, be the absolute worst smell imaginable. She flipped the bag into the sink and doused it with water to put out any lingering odor and clear some of the smoke.

  Once the stove’s overhead vent whirled to life, the smoke moved, but not fast enough. “Nyah, could you open the patio doors, please?” She fanned with a long, thin magnetic notepad from the fridge.

  Remy leaned over to look into the living room. “Try it again, Cher.”

  “What? Why?” She mimicked him and followed his gaze. Nyah had stopped rocking but hadn’t moved from the couch.

  “Good goddess,” Ari mumbled before walking back into the room. She sat next to Nyah and touched her back, the young woman stilled. “Nyah, it’s okay. It was only popcorn.”

  “You might want to get her out of the building before she burns the place down,” Remy said.

  Ari cut her eyes at him but held her tongue. For whatever reason, since the day Nyah walked into her place he hadn’t liked her. She knew Nyah wouldn’t stay here forever, but this was the only solution for now.

  “Nyah. Look at me.” Red-rimmed eyes slowly turned towards her. “This is a lot to get used to. Don’t get bent out of shape about it.”

  Nyah’s eyes widened. “What?” She looked at her arms, then touched her body. “I’m going to bend?”

  “Oh, no.” Ari grasped the young lady’s now flailing arms. “That’s just a saying.” Oh, boy. She reached for both of Nyah’s hands. The girl might have a heart attack at this rate. Ari was so awful at the whole consoling thing. She needed to get this girl to her man, pronto.

  “Breathe.” Ari overly exaggerated the breathing process with pouty lips, to get Nyah to follow her lead. After two minutes, or so, they were both inhaling and exhaling in regular intervals and Nyah looked a lot calmer.

  “Okay. You want something to drink?”

  Nyah nodded and Ari released her hands.

  Ari opened the patio sliding doors first, then to the kitchen. She held the kettle under running water to brew a pot of chamomile tea. Then considered the state Nyah was in and changed her mind.

  “Time to pull out the big guns.” Remy waved towards her small wine rack.

  “Yeah, I think you’re right.” Ari pulled two goblets from the shelf and dusted off a bottle of merlot. She wasn’t a big wine drinker but kept both on hand for those who did. And she wasn’t averse to a good Riesling now and again. She opened it and let it breathe.

  “Cher, when is she leaving?” Remy stood with his arms folded.

  Although Nyah couldn’t see or hear him, she would hear Ari’s response. She lowered her voice as much as she could. “Remy, what do you have against her?”

  It’s a weird thing to see a ghost tighten his lips and roll his eyes. But Remy had perfected the look over the years. “I get a bad feeling when I’m around her. I just don’t trust her.”

  “Well, I’m working on it. It won’t be too much longer.”

  She poured two glasses of wine. One a little fuller than the other, as she didn’t need anything to help her sleep. Nyah, on the other hand, couldn’t hold her liquor. Rookie.

  After making Nyah take three good gulps of wine, she seemed to loosen up. She sat crossed-legged on the couch, then leaned over to grab a stack of papers from the side table.

  “Aria, I went down to the metal box.” Nyah’s accented English sounded more like the Queen’s English.

  For whatever reason, Nyah hadn't been able to say her name correctly. A breathy 'A' happened at the end every time. Finally, Ari stopped trying to correct her and just let it go. No one else called her that and it sounded nice in Nyah's weird accent.

  Ari took the mail. “Did…?”

  Before she could finish, Nyah shook her head. “No one saw me. I covered my hair and
put on these.” She lifted a pair of mirrored shades from the coffee table. “I did good, yes?”

  Ari held her glass out. “Yes, you did well.” Nyah clinked her goblet to Ari’s in a toast. They had agreed to two things, one Nyah needed to protect her identity. And she needed to wear clothes. Nyah was absolutely okay with her nudity.

  They watched a movie with some properly popped popcorn with extra butter, but Nyah nodded off after the second glass of wine. Ari flipped through channels and stopped on the news for the weather. She muted it when a report about the hospital came on and thumbed through her mail while she waited. It was mostly bills, but the one thing she’d been waiting for had finally appeared.

  A postcard.

  One side had a glossy picture of an old, red brick Dublin pub, complete with an antique-styled sign that read: "Guinness, sold here by the pint." She flipped it over, her bestie’s boxy, square letters filled the back. Her friend had tried to call a few times but with spotty service and the time difference, they kept missing each other.

  Leise and her new boyfriend, Brennan were traveling through and around Ireland to help him find and possibly reconnect with his family. Brennan’s quest was damn near impossible and difficult at best because his uncle had locked him up in a magical prison for over 400 years.

  What’s up!

  Ireland’s great. It’s very green and breathtakingly beautiful. Driving has been a chore, but Bren acts like it’s nothing. Whose bright idea was it to drive on the wrong side of the road! Anyway, we hit a few small towns that go back generations — but not his fam. Even found a Romany village. I really liked them. Those people know how to party. Anyway, we’re going to try some of the smaller islands in the area. Hopefully, we’ll have better luck there. Druid-quest continues. Looks like maybe another month here. I miss you so much, but it won’t be for much longer.

  Kiss Remy. Love ya much.

  Leise

  “I like that part she put in for me,” Remy said from over her shoulder.

  She didn’t jump, this ghost had been with her since she was a kid. “I bet you did. You might have to tell one of your girlfriends to help you out with that.”

  Remy’s transparent body appeared next to her on the couch, where Nyah had been earlier. “I told you. I just enjoy their company. It’s nice not being alone in Otherworld.”

  Otherworld is what they liked to call the magical realm inside of Leise’s family heirloom. A rough-cut amethyst passed down through many generations of Morgan women. When used with the correct spell and a blood sacrifice, the magical world inside could become a prison.

  “Haviland’s there. You guys don’t talk? Hangout?” Ari laughed when Remy growled. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “I’ve run into him occasionally. He really wants her there. You should go talk to him.”

  “I will. Soon. I promise.” She knew she needed to visit him, but she didn’t have any answers. Yes, they brought Nyah's spirit back from a nether realm which was much like purgatory; magical world created for souls. But instead of her spirit entering Otherworld to be with the love of her life, it found more suitable lodgings in one of the most recognizable, and recently deceased people in Houston.

  “I hope so. It doesn’t look like it did before. He was okay in the beginning, but now.” His hands moved in a shaky pattern. “He might be losing it a little.”

  “Okay. I get it. I’ll visit him, but it won’t be tonight.”

  Chapter 2

  Ari jumped out of Tiffany, her twenty-year-old light blue BMW, with her phone to her ear.

  An automated voice said, "The mailbox is full. Try again, later. Good-bye." The line went dead.

  Why weren't her cousins calling her back? It wasn't like Lucas or Rum not to return a call. Something must have happened. Nope. No. Don't even entertain that line of thinking, she told herself. They are just busy.

  The gravel shuffled behind her. She kept walking but took a peek behind her. The tall man leaning against the dark sedan made her stop and fully turn around and walk in his direction.

  Detective Adam Westin looked almost like a regular person in his jeans and dark t-shirt. He'd even let the buzz-cut grow out a bit. But nothing would change the way he stared at her. His honey-brown eyes felt like they could see right through her.

  "Detective, the bar doors are in the front of the building," Ari said in a clipped tone.

  "I know. Just stretching my legs," Westin said, still leaning against his car.

  “What's your problem?”

  "You want to know what my problem is?" He raised off the car door. "I know you did something to me, and I want to know what."

  Ari shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  Of course, she knew exactly what he was talking about, but she couldn't tell him that a witch nearly killed him, and she used a spell to heal him and take away his memory of that night. Nope. Not gonna happen. Besides, he wouldn't believe her if she did tell him.

  His eyes squinted down so tight, she didn't think he could see her. "Whatever, you say." He leaned back on the car.

  "If you didn't know, following me around like this is called stalking. I will be having a long conversation with your captain about it." She held up her phone and snapped a picture. "You should go home. Get some rest. You have bags under your eyes."

  Ari walked backward away from him.

  "This isn't over Mason!"

  She lifted her hand with the phone in it and waved goodbye as she went to work.

  Jacque, the new busboy, struggled to lift four crates of freshly washed glasses. His five-five frame disappeared behind the wobbly stack of glassware, leaving just his hands visible.

  "Wait. Let me help you." She lifted one of the warm and still steaming plastic slated containers from the top of his load.

  His head popped out from the side of the stack. "Th-Th-Thanks." He struggled to get out.

  "No worries." She gave him a smile and a wink. There was something about Jacque she couldn't quite put her finger on. He brought a peaceful vibe anytime he came near her. She wondered what his aura would look like. The Cave, the building or the land it was built on, made it impossible to use her powers at all.

  Jacque followed Ari out to the front bar area. She squeezed past her boss. When he lifted a brow, then looked at his watch, she slammed down the container and all the glasses rattled. She cringed and waited for it, but nothing shattered. Jacque put down his glasses with care, looked at them both, then scurried to the back.

  "Don't say it, Bull. I already know." She grabbed a towel from the rack near the small sink and gingerly pulled a glass out to wipe it dry.

  "What?" The big man hunched his shoulders. "All I was going to say was, happy you could join us." His smirk belittled the sincerity of his statement.

  Ari couldn't help but smile back at him. Her boss stood seven-foot even with his boots on. He looked like a total bad-ass with his bald head and motorcycle club leather vest displaying two full colorful sleeves of tattoos up his arm, but listening to him giggle as he tried to keep a straight face revealed his true nature.

  "Ain't that right, Jacque?" Bull said, as the busboy pushed out two large plastic containers of ice.

  Jacque stopped in front of Ari.

  "Is that correct, Jacque?" Her voice always softened when she spoke to him. A part of her felt like, between his speech impediment and shyness, he might not have gotten a lot of gentle in his life.

  He looked between her and Bull. He turned back towards Ari and gave a shy smile and began to pour the ice into the metal bins. "Ye... yes, sir."

  "See. Even Jacque was waiting." Bull's smile widened.

  Ari knew Jacque was just agreeing to keep the peace and possibly his job. But over these last few months, she realized that was just how Jacque was. He had a stillness about him. Every once in a while, he carried true worry on him like a fur winter coat, but it never lasted long.

  Ari smiled and said, "Fine, you're right. Sorry, I was late, Boss." Sh
e gave a small nod. "It will never happen again."

  "Aw, hell. Ain't no need in lying."

  They all laughed. Anyone who knew Ari knew she would probably show up late to her own funeral.

  She lowered her voice and lifted her head towards the front of the bar. "Why are there people in here already?"

  Bull didn't look away from the computer. "We opened fifteen minutes ago."

  Yeah, yeah. "Did you get their order?"

  "Um, no. I was waiting for the bartender-on-duty to handle that."

  He could be such an ass sometimes. She rolled her eyes but said in a most genteel voice. "Getting right on it, Boss."

  Ari wiped her hands on the drying rag before walking to the front of the seating area. The two people sat with their backs to the back, but her easy demeanor fell away as she reached them. She knew that long mane of curly red and black hair anywhere.

  Her aunt.

  "Tatum." Ari stopped next to the table. "What are you doing here?"

  "You show her some respect!" The dark-haired young lady seated across from her aunt growled.

  Tatum patted the table in front of the girl.

  "But Lady Tatum, she—”

  "Ella Grace." The older woman lifted her hand to stave off any further outbursts.

  Much like a petulant child, Ella Grace slammed backward in her seat, with her lips pressed into a thin line, and her arms tightly bound across her nearly imperceptible chest.