How to Claim an Undead Soul (Beginner's Guide to Necromancy #2)(13)
Grateful tears made my vision swim, but I blinked them back on the sobering reminder he was sticking his neck out for me because he thought I would starve without a paycheck. But if I explained I had an insta-fortune, he would ask questions. He already knew too much as it was thanks to his run-in with Volkov and his goons. I wouldn’t endanger him further.
“Thanks, Neely.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” He tucked away his phone. “Did Amelie explain the sudden interest in boats?”
“Nope.” I had been out of the loop for too many weeks to know the latest buzz.
“There have been ghost sightings during the dinner cruises. Word is the apparition started out benign. People seeing a little boy dressed in a dark-blue sailor suit with ankle socks and canvas shoes. Some reports mention a white cap, others mention his blond curls. For a while, bookings increased. That’s where Cricket got the idea to buy in.” His expression shifted. “But the last cruise ended with three people getting treated for injuries sustained while onboard. They claimed a ghost was hurling cutlery at them during their meal. A few claim a boy’s voice was yelling, ‘I’m hungry. I’m hungry. I’m hungry.’”
Foreboding slithered up my spine. “This was in the news?”
“Yep.” He slanted me a pitying look. “I forgot you’re one of those weirdos who doesn’t watch TV.”
I wanted to laugh at his disdain for my preference in viewing streaming movies and television shows online, but I couldn’t shake the chills. First a B&B owner was down a spook and handing out interviews, and now there was a riverboat with an active haunting on the local news. What did it mean? Spurts of paranormal activity weren’t uncommon in cities like Savannah. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was humans were aware of it, capitalizing on it, this time.
“The news coverage means Cricket is champing at the bit to get the Cora Ann rebranded before the commotion dies down,” he said. “She’s trying to book one of those ghost hunter shows for the maiden voyage.”
The longer he chattered about Cricket’s plans, the more I wondered what stance the Society would take. Ghosts weren’t a priority for them. There was no money in exorcisms, except when a third party hired them to cleanse a space. But, at the same time, there was a difference between an orb of light caught on film and a specter capable of damaging property and harming people. From the sound of things, the B&B ghost leaned more toward a low-level entity while the Cora Ann harbored a burgeoning poltergeist.
“Does this mean you’re going to work a split shift?” I noticed the quiet, wondered when he had stopped talking, and made a valiant effort to fill the lull. “Or will Cricket be hiring another stylist?”
“There will be two haunted cruises nightly until the buzz dies down. One coincides with our first tour at dusk and the other with the late-late tour. Since passengers will board early, the River Haints, and yes, that’s what I overheard Cricket calling them, will need to be primped in advance. I’ve got time to style them then rush back to the office before the first walking tour leaves. I’ll handle touch-ups here until it’s time for the late-late tour, and then I’ll head back to the boat to refresh the girls there.”
“That sounds like a lot of work.”
“Cricket is paying for the gas, so I can’t complain.” He lifted a wrinkled copy of Vanity Fair and pressed it to his chest. “I’m going to miss the downtime, though. That’s when I get caught up on my reading.”
“Um, Neely.” I cocked my head at him. “When do you sleep?”
“I work from home during the week, and I’m very good at what I do.” The upscale accounting firm responsible for half the pens in the office, whether they knew it or not, was a testament to that fact. “There are no clauses in my contract prohibiting me from holding a second job. As long as I’m available for conference calls and questions, my boss doesn’t care what I do with the rest of my time.” He traced the dark circles under my eyes. “Besides, I could ask you the same thing. Do you ever sleep?”
“Oh, I sleep.” Sometimes for whole minutes strung together. “The problem is how I wake.”
“Nightmares?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded as if he understood. “Talking helps.”
“I have someone,” I assured him before he made the offer I sensed coming. “She’s helping me work through my issues.”
“Let me know if you need another ear.” He cupped his and leaned closer. “I’m always hear.”
“Ha ha.” I shoved him rocking back on his heels. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I have to get back to work.” He rolled up the magazine and tapped me on the shoulder with it. “I’m glad you’re back. I’m relieved you’re safe. Just do me a favor and call me next time? Amelie kept me in the loop, but I worry about you. I would have rested easier hearing updates direct from the source.”
“I’m sorry.” I touched his wrist. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
With any luck, he didn’t notice I hadn’t promised to call. When I vanished, the only cells I had access to tended to be the barred kind.
“I hid your dress. Just in case.” He jutted out his chin. “I refuse to acknowledge a Blue Belle who isn’t you.”