Ghost Garages_A Boston Technowitch Novel Read online

  But you still might split a bottle of whiskey with him while you talk through it and go to the clinic to see about artificial insemination afterward just in case. After all, a Lung dragon’s spell, or blessing, had to be an order of magnitude more intense than a casual witchy hex. Who knew what might happen, especially in a year of the dragon?

  Since then, I’d met Hsien, the Lung dragon in question, and I still had no idea what might have happened if I hadn’t had the twins.

  I did know, however, that I needed to go get them.

  Beth’s friend lingered next to the door when I came back, obviously waiting for me. Tonight might be different, but the twins were still waiting. My steps slowed.

  He flashed me a smile, displaying that dimple once again. “Mind if I walk with you?”

  I tilted my head and raised my eyebrows, doing my best to level the same look at him that reduced my kids to obedience. “All I know about you is you came in with my best friend.” And if I didn’t have responsibilities and there were no consequences, I’d jump him right now, but that wasn’t going to happen. “That’s hardly grounds for an escort.”

  “Don’t you trust Beth?”

  “Her choices in men aren’t exactly worth trusting.”

  His voice dropped to an almost intimate level. “Sounds like there’s a story there worth hearing.”

  “No. Look, I don’t know you, don’t know even know your name. I only know that you came in and lurked all afternoon without a word except to ask for a refill, and now you think I’m going to invite you to my house. It’s not happening.”

  He stuck out his hand. “Haris. It’s from the Greek.”

  He pronounced it harr-ees.

  “Of course it is.”

  I didn’t take his hand, and after a moment, he let it fall to his side.

  “You’re Pepper.” The dimple winked at me again. “Beth couldn’t stop talking about you on the way here — how long she’d known you, what a great friend you are, how your life took such a radical turn after college.”

  “Gave you my whole life story, did she?” I was wasting time here talking to him, and it was a short walk in broad daylight. I looked back at Rich, who was watching us with a frown on his face. “I’m going, but if I turn up missing, it’s Haris’s fault.”

  Rich gave me a thumbs-up and turned back to tidying behind the counter.

  Haris had the sense to give me space as I walked out the door, and even on the sidewalk, he stayed as far as possible from me.

  We walked south, passing the Chinatown T stop, weaving around the stragglers who were exiting. A few nodded to him with familiarity, including a couple I knew. I took it as a sign I should get to know him better — and if I’d been hoping for such a sign, well, no one knew that but me.

  “So, if Beth’s told you all about me, it’s only fair if you tell me about yourself. Who are you, how’d you meet Beth, and why’d you stay behind when she obviously expected you to go back with her?”

  “Mm. You are direct, aren’t you?” We walked half a block before he said, “I’m a muse. I ran into Beth because I like to hang out where artists are.”

  “A muse. Like Terpsichore and all those? Right.”

  “She’s my yia yia, actually.” His grandmother?

  “Of course she is.”

  That would mean he was a lot older than he looked. Or maybe the original muses, being immortal, kept having kids. They were all about creating, right?

  On the other hand, it made a weird kind of sense. He had some sort of magical power, but it wasn’t any form I was familiar with. And Beth had been so excited about expanding her art and talking to galleries — something I’d been trying to convince her to do for ages. I said as much.

  “Yes, she’s talented. Some real fire in her, that’s what drew me. Darkness, too. Should be interesting to see how that plays out.”

  “Darkness? I don’t think so. Vibrant, colorful, striking — sure. Also eternally optimistic. When she got turned down for her dream job, she laughed, said something better would come along, and went back to the job hunt. That’s not dark.” After a couple more steps, I prodded him, “You didn’t answer my last question. Why’d you stay behind? Why are you so focused on me?”

  I didn’t have to see his dimple to know it was there. “Because when I saw you, sparks flew. Literally.”

  Whatever I would have said to that, the words were cut off as a chill swept over me, a frisson quite unlike the sensation Haris gave me, more like ants crawling under my skin, an uneasy, unnerving — and definitely unnatural — sensation.

  I pivoted, seeking the source. A chill wind blew from the parking garage across the street, sharp like a bite from late November and smelling of mold and brine. Wrong direction for a sea breeze, and somehow more unhealthy. And despite its strength, it wasn’t real — my hair didn’t move, newspaper that someone had dropped on the sidewalk lay still. This was definitely magic. I stepped forward, wanting to find the source and cut it off.

  Haris waved his hand in front of me, a warning about the cars with their usual unconcern for pedestrians. My lower back tensed in anticipation of what his touch might do to me, and wariness made me drop onto my heels, freezing me in my tracks and clearing my head of the illusory wind’s scent. My face felt like the moment before a static discharge in winter, full of the potential for electricity, but not actually exhibiting it.

  “The crosswalk?” His words indicated that he had felt the presence, too. Chalk up one more bit of evidence for his supernatural nature.

  I didn’t answer him, merely turned toward the closest corner. While we waited for the light to change and traffic to stop, I tried to sort out my impressions of this chill. It wasn't natural, of that I was certain, but nor was it magic as I understood magic.

  “What is it?” Haris asked, echoing my thoughts.

  “You're the muse. You tell me.”

  “It's not art or music.”

  “It's not coffee, either.”

  That startled a laugh from him, but I cut off anything he might have said by adding, “It's green. Let's go.”

  The chill crept over us again even before we entered the concrete building, and not even the exhaust fumes hanging in the air could cover the smell of the shore at low tide. The wrongness clenched at me, urging me to go anywhere but here. Instead, I pushed against the current of fear, straight for where the stench was strongest.

  When I reached it, it took me a minute to recognize what I was seeing. Bloated, discolored, drowned bodies don't generally walk around on their own. And they certainly don't do so through parked cars.

  “So that's what a ghost looks like.” I was proud of how steady I kept my voice.

  “A drowned one, anyway,” Haris agreed, “but how'd she manage to drown in here?”

  “Maybe she died a long time ago, when this was underwater, and she's only manifesting now because she needed to gather her strength?”

  I didn't believe it, and I wasn't surprised when he shook his head in disagreement. “Look at her clothes.”

  Bedraggled, torn, spattered with mud — but also modern cotton knit with enough Lycra for shaping, and colors that only came out of a chemist’s lab. Whoever she was, she had died recently.

  A horn honked behind us, and we jumped.

  If I'd thought about it at all, I would have known we were in the middle of the row, right where cars drive. I hadn't been thinking about anything but the ghost, though. Casting an apologetic look at the driver, I moved to one side, and Haris followed me.

  The driver swept past without a glance toward the ghost.

  “He couldn't see her.” It was obvious, but sometimes I'm a big fan of stating the obvious. That way, you know people aren't making assumptions.

  “Did you expect him to? I'd wager most mortals can't see ghosts.”

  “How should I know? Until today, it didn't occur to me that I could.”

  “Really? But you're not most mortals, are you?”

  It was a statement
that demanded a direct stare and an indirect response. Turning to face him, though, would put my back to the ghost, and I didn't want to do that. I settled for a sidelong glance, as cool as I could make it.

  “And just what do you think I am?”

  “Intriguing.”

  “If you're trying to convince me you're not a stalker, you're not doing a good job of it.”

  “Would you feel better if I left you alone with her?” The nod of his head toward the ghost was unnecessary. Who else could he be referring to?

  Be left alone with her? With this stomach-clenching fear and anger that made me almost physically ill? “I'd prefer for us to leave her alone here. But will she hurt anyone?”

  For the first time, I heard uncertainty in his voice. “I don't know what the dead can do outside of Hades.”

  I wanted to ask what he knew of Hades and the dead there, and I was certain he would tell me if I asked. But this wasn't the time or the place for that sort of conversation. Would there be another chance? Based on his actions, certainly. Goosebumps crept up my arms at the thought, and I rubbed them absently. I still didn't know how my magic would react to his touch, and that scared me, like knots in my stomach, run as fast as I could to another state scared.

  It took me years of study, work, and practice to bring my magic to heel, so now I could cast a spell with nothing more than my phone and be sure of the results. I didn't want to lose that. I didn’t want to lose control at all, and with him, I was pretty sure that would happen.

  “Are we going to try to do anything about her?” At least he'd said “we.”

  I shrugged. “I don't know what the dead can do, period. I'm going to have to research.”

  I'd call Carole, my mentor during my college years. She'd helped me through a lot of that work and practice, and she set me to most of that study. If anyone knew where to find information on ghosts, it would be Carole.

  “But you think something should be done.”

  He made it sound admirable. I brushed it off. “I walk by here twice a day, sometimes more. To be assaulted by this feeling each time? I think I would go mad.”

  “Of course.” His voice was enigmatic, but I had the feeling he didn't believe me. “By all means, then, let us go so that you may begin your research.”

  “You don’t need to sound so dismissive. She was somebody, and someone killed her and left her here.”

  “And filled the area with the most discordant airs.” His voice was somber. “I will ask around to see if any can identify this magic. However, I imagine if anyone knew of it, I would have already heard.”

  I was a little curious about his sources, but not to the point that I wanted to stand there in front of the ghost and talk about it. If I could avoid it, I didn’t want to get near the ghost again.

  Chapter 3

  Haris said good-bye when we were still a block and a half from my home over the best dim sum restaurant in Chinatown. “Pretty sure she's not following us.”

  I didn't take offense at either his words or his wink. I'd looked over my shoulder more than once after we left the garage.

  I watched him walk away with mixed emotions. The undeniable attraction. The reassurance that someone else had seen and felt the ghost’s presence. The worry about my power becoming uncontrolled again. The relief that I wasn't going to have to explain him to the Lius.

  The only thing I was sure of was that I wanted to see him again — a thought I pushed out of my head before I walked into the Lius’ restaurant. The building was the oldest in the neighborhood, at least a hundred years older than the buildings to either side, but it had aged well, spared the ravages of house fire and flooded streets that plagued so many.

  Mrs. Liu’s mother sat behind the register, doing a crossword puzzle. As always in the restaurant, she wore traditional embroidered silk. At home, she would still wear silk, but it would be more informal blouses. People sat scattered at tables, but it was a smaller crowd than usual.

  Matt’s mom, Wei Liu, paused in pouring tea for a pair of middle-aged tourists. She had large brown eyes and her black hair was pulled back into a bun. Her clothes blended traditional and contemporary, a red blouse with a mandarin collar and black pants, both likely made of an acrylic blend that was easy to wash food odors out of. Both she and her mother always struck me as having a core of light that smelled, inexplicably, of cloves, or perhaps five-spice, and only rarely gave me any of the electric tingles I usually associated with magic.

  She met my gaze. “Matt’s upstairs with the children.”

  I nodded my thanks and headed for the stairs. The restaurant was on the ground floor, the Lius lived on the second floor with Wei’s mother, one of Matt’s sisters lived with her family on the third floor, and the twins and I lived on the fourth, in what used to be Matt’s space, before he convinced me to have his kids. The attic wasn't finished, so no one lived there, but in exchange for doing the renovation work myself, the Lius were going to let me expand into that space, too.

  I didn't work on it as often as I should — who has time with six-year-old moppets underfoot? — but I definitely wanted the twins to have their own rooms soon.

  On the second floor, I stopped to pick up said moppets. I opened the Lius’ door and in front of the tasteful cherrywood antiques — some probably as old as the house — I saw a writhing mass of black-haired children in the middle of one of the rugs used to protect the hardwood floor.

  “I didn't know she meant all the children.”

  Matt poked his head out from one end of the squealing pile. “Celeste was supposed to be here, too, but we traded. If I did a solo shift today, she’ll take our pair so I can be your plus-one at your reunion.”

  Oh, hell. I'd forgotten about the reunion. My face must have given me away because he said, “You forgot again, didn't you?”

  “Good thing I have you to remember for me.”

  At this point, another head popped up. “Mom!” Gavin got his curly hair from my side of the family, while his sister’s hair was as long and straight as either of her aunts’ — which was a relief after it took so long to grow in.

  A flurry of arms and legs launched themselves at me. “Mom!” “Aunt Pepper!”

  Bracing myself did no good, and I wound up on the floor in a heap. I hugged and kissed children indiscriminately until Tina complained that I'd kissed her cousin Jian more than I'd kissed her. I gave her two extra kisses to make up for it, then gave her brother one as well. Jian and his sister Bella belonged to Celeste and her husband Nate, while Gav and Tina were mine and Matt’s. There are two more cousins, but they were off in Disney World, so it wasn't quite the zoo it might've been.

  “What have you little rascals been up to this afternoon, besides trampling all over your dad?”

  “He started it!”

  “Of course he did.” I nudged the children to get enough space to stand up. “And not one of you said you'd rather play on your DS?”

  “That's how he started it,” Bella said. “He took mine away!”

  “And why did your Uncle Matt take it away from you?” He had stood up, and now he leaned against the back of a sofa, his arms crossed casually. He raised his eyebrows at me but waited for Bella’s answer.

  “Because Gavin told on me!”

  “She said she was going to break Jian’s head with it!”

  “More like Jian’s head would break the DS, and then she wouldn't have it any more.”

  I let their friendly squabbling wash over me, taking some of the lingering unease from the ghost.

  Matt spoke over them. “If you don't want to go to your reunion, we don't have to.”

  “What, and have you watching over this lot be for nothing?”

  “They're my kids, too.”

  “I didn't mean that!”

  The kids quietened and looked from one of us to the other.

  He kept his arms crossed, and if anything, looked sterner. “Didn't you? It's one thing to think of my parents or sisters as babysitters, but f
or me, it's parenting. Even if they spend most of their time with you.”

  Guilt bites. When they were younger, maybe it made more sense for them to live with me. Maybe. But we’d never revisited that decision, and I'd done my best to deflect the topic whenever one of his sisters brushed up against it. I didn't want to let them go, but that wasn't fair to Matt.

  Aware of the kids watching, I chose my words with care. “We could try for a more even split of time.”

  “Or Daddy could move in with us!” Tina said.

  I looked down at her then met Matt’s eyes with dismay. How to explain?

  Gav chimed in. “He can share my room with me after we get it fixed up.”

  I almost laughed with relief. They weren't thinking of us as a couple. I covered my reaction by teasing Gavin. “We? I don't remember you helping tackle that lath and plaster last weekend.”

  He made a face. “I'm a manager. I don't have to do that stuff.”

  “I am a manager, and I've got news for you, buddy — we still have to work.”

  He sniffed. “That's because you're an assistant manager, Mom. Don't worry.” He patted my side. “You'll get better.”

  I very carefully did not look at Matt because I knew I would laugh if I did, and I wouldn't do that to Gavin. “Thank you for telling me.”

  Having given my response, I chanced a look at Matt and was surprised at the glower still on his face.

  Whatever was bothering him, however, didn't trouble the kids at all. “If they're leaving, do I get my DS back?” “No way, I should get it, she was going to hit me with it!” “That's sooo unfair!”

  At this, I did chuckle. “Maybe you two should work together and see if you can beat your Uncle Matt at a game of checkers.”

  “No way,” Jian said. “He cheats.”

  “How does he cheat?”

  “He always wins!”

  I grinned at this impeccable logic, then glanced at Matt. “I'll leave you to your cheating ways, then. But we should talk soon about time division.”