Dead Corse by Phaedra Weldon

 
    Phaedra Weldon - Zoe Martinique 00 - Dead Corse
     
     
    E
ver wonder how Zoë and Rhonda met? Was it a good
meeting? Accidental? Or was it a match made in heaven—at first. Were the signs
always there? DEAD CORSE tells the story of how the not-yet Wraith Zoë Martinique
and not-yet Sorceress Rhonda Orly met and began what they believed would be a
long and loyal friendship. Will it last? Only time will tell the tale
.  
     
 
Happy Halloween!
    “I see in the cards you two are in love.”
    I looked at the couple. They were holding hands, having difficulty
keeping their eyes from one another and had answered each other’s sentences for
the past ten minutes. Duh. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see these two
were in love—nor did it take a deck of tarot cards.
    I’d never really paid attention to card reading until I saw my mom
using them in her shop. She said she told her customer’s futures and I had to
admit, her readings were a lot more in depth and believable than this boob’s.
If only she could see me leaning against the wall behind her, my arms crossed
over my chest and a sarcastic  
whatever
  look on my face.
    But she couldn’t. Because I was a ghost.
    My name’s Zoë. Martinique.
    I’m Irish Latin mix which means—I wouldn’t say I was ugly but I
don’t consider myself beautiful either. I have olive skin, sort of topaz eyes
(no really, my mom said so), long thick hair and freckles. I also have an
overbite the dentist insists needs fixing. But I don’t think so.
    And there’s one more thing you might need to know—I’m a  
Traveler
.
    Hmmm—that doesn’t sound as impressive as it should does it? Makes
me sound like someone that travels the world and blogs. I think maybe I need to
come up with a better name. Anyway, what that’s supposed to mean is that I—for
some unknown reason—can slip out of my body and take a walk-about.
    I know right? Weird. But I can. And when I do it I don’t really
look like I do usually. Yeah same face and hair, but my clothes are all dark
and stealthy and I wear black bunny slippers.
    Mental Note:  
Black
bunny slippers are awesome. And hard to find.
    Ever since I discovered I could do this I’d pushed it to its
limits. The only limit I’d discovered so far was the length of time out of
body. I’d never timed it because I couldn’t bring a watch with me—and I always
forgot to look at a clock. I had noticed certain signs when I’d been out too
long, like dizziness and nausea. And those times when I ignored those signs? It
was a stone bitch when my silver cord yoinked me back and I slammed back into
my body. The resulting hang over kept me in bed for a full day before I felt
human enough to re-enter the world of the living.
    My recent doctor’s appointment hadn’t gone so well. He’d made me
take a sugar test. He couldn’t explain my fatigue, lack of energy and constant
peeing as anything other than a possible problem with my pancreas. I knew that
wasn’t it—but I couldn’t really explain to him I was staying out partying all
night  
out
  of my body.
    So here I was, eaves dropping in a haunted house two days before
Halloween. I’d already taken a spin inside some of the more commercial holiday
haunts, the ones that pop up the last week of September and disappear November
first and yawned my way through.  
This
house
was a real mansion a local group had rented out and decorated up to earn money
for breast cancer.
    I wasn’t there just to spy on people. I was there because I had a
job! Someone wanted me to listen in and find a real Book of Shadows.
    Honestly? A Book of Shadows? I know what that was and I figured
I’d go look and when nothing turned up I could at least be honest when I
reported back it wasn’t there.
    “Oh…and I see you….” the fortune teller nodded to the young lady.
“Have recently lost a loved one.”
    The girl’s eyes widened. “Oh, how did you know?”
    I rolled my eyes. “Lucky guess.”
    The