Page 20 of Haunting the Deep

His eyebrows knit together.

I stand up and force a smile. “Dad, stop worrying. I’m fine.”

He doesn’t look entirely convinced. “When you get back, I’ll cook us up some of those pumpkin raviolis in sage butter you love and garlic bread. I have a couple of stories about Mae that will make you fall right out of your chair.”

I laugh. “Extra garlic?”

“Is there any other way?”

“I’m so in for that.” I blow him a kiss and head out of his office and out of the house.

I exhale loudly into the crisp spring air as I zip my jacket closed and turn down my street toward town. Maybe I’m being stupid. Maybe Dad wouldn’t freak out the way I think he would if I told him I was seeing spirits. No, he definitely would. What am I even thinking right now?

Tree roots fight to break through the old brick of the sidewalk and small purple flowers are just beginning to appear in gardens. I once told Elijah that purple flowers were my favorite because they were unapologetically bold. And all he said was “Like your language.” I smile at the memory.

The shops are busy, even at this time of day. People are starting to get that spring itch where they just want to be outside, even though it hasn’t truly warmed up yet. I can tell by the double takes from some of the pedestrians that they know who I am.

“Girl,” a voice says, and I turn to my left.

An older woman with salt-and-pepper hair down to her waist has her door cracked open. Her face is mostly shadowed, and she’s wearing a drapey black dress. She stares at me pointedly and waves me to come in.

There’s nothing indicating what kind of store it is. The windows are blacked out. There isn’t even a sign, just old brick and a worn black door.

“Um, I’m good, thanks,” I say, and stick my hands in my pockets.

“You’re not good or well,” she says. “Come inside.”

People pass me on the street and shoot sideways glances at us.

“Thanks, but I…I don’t have any cash.”

Her face wrinkles into a frown. “You think I want your money?”

“I just meant…”

A couple of pedestrians have stopped to watch us. The weird part is, they look more shocked to see her than me. She opens the door wider and retreats into the dark room.Screw it.I slip inside, and the door clicks shut behind me.

“Hello?” I turn from side to side. “It’s pitch-black. I can’t see a thing.”

“Come in, come in,” she says with a muffled voice.

“I am in.”

No response.You’ve got to be kidding me.I put my hands out in front of me and take careful steps in the direction her voice came from. My hands hit a wall, and I follow it down a dark twisty hallway. The farther I get from the door, the more uneasy I get.

“I’m going to leave,” I say, not entirely confident that I could find my way out of this maze. What did I just get myself into?

“Brave but impatient,” she says just as I collide with a curtain.

I’m not sure I like being analyzed out loud. I push the curtain aside and step into a perfectly circular room lit by candles in chest-high, wrought-iron candelabras. The walls are covered with black velvet curtains, and the floors are a mishmash of colorful rugs and pillows. There’s a faint smell of lemon and ginger.

She sits in the center of the room on a pillow next to a low round table.Did I make a mistake?

“So what’s all this about?” I say.

“You.”

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, ready to bolt if need be. “Me?”