Magic in the Blood by Devon Monk Page A

turn. Did you see a ghost?”
    Hells. Why not?
    “Yes.”
    “Here?”
    I took another drink of coffee, which hurt the burnt spots in my mouth. Totally worth it.
    “Outside,” I said. “It was just for a couple seconds, but there was more than one.”
    Grant grinned. “I liked the sound of that. Haven’t had multiple apparitions before. Were they full body?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Did you see them clearly from head to toe?”
    The memory of them turning, gazing at me with hungry, empty eyes, moving toward me slowly, too slowly, flashed through my mind.
    “Every bit of them. And I don’t know what you’re so happy about. They scared the hell out of me.”
    “Haven’t seen a full body myself. Always kind of hoped I would. The ghost hunters said they didn’t think there was harmful activity here.”
    “You might want to rethink that,” I said. Hells. Who was I to change Grant’s mind? If he liked thinking friendly ghosts were Caspering about in his coffee shop, that was cool with me. He could probably capitalize on the haunted thing and bring in the tourists.
    And since no one else had seen multiple full-body apparitions (see how quick I pick up on this stuff?), I was beginning to think seeing them—and being touched by them—had more to do with those Death glyphs out on the wall than with Grant’s Shanghai victims.
    “Oh, now. Don’t go holding out on me. I can see it in your eyes. There was more. Spill it, girl.”
    I took another bite of the scone, which practically melted into sugar and spice in my mouth. “This is really good. Did you change bakeries?”
    “It’s my own recipe. Less scone. More ghost.”
    “You made this? I’m impressed. You should open a bakery or a coffee shop or something.”
    “Allison Beckstrom,” he said. “Don’t make me sic Jula on you. And don’t think she can’t take you—she’s little, but she’s tougher than she looks.”
    “Listen,” I said. “I saw ghosts—a lot of them. And they . . . um . . . touched me. It hurt. Don’t. Don’t look like that. I’m fine. It was just for a second. Right before you came out. And before that I saw some kind of magic written on the warehouse wall. Glyphs that were for Life and Healing—good glyphs. But around all those was the glyph for Death. When I got closer to the building, they . . .” Telling the truth and watching Grant’s expression go from excitement back to worry again was harder than I thought it would be. “. . . they just—”
    “Disappeared?”
    I nodded.
    “And you’re sure you’re not hurt? I’ve heard of ghosts leaving marks.”
    “I think I’m fine.”
    He stared at me.
    “I’ll check myself over when I go home. After coffee.” I picked up the cup and took another drink.
    Grant didn’t push me on that, for which I was grateful.
    “Life and death, huh?” he asked. “Were they city-cast to keep vandals off the block?”
    I blinked. “I don’t know.” I’d never even thought about that. “Do you know if the city has any standing spells here?”
    “I can look into it. The company that owns the lot next to me went bankrupt. I’m thinking about buying it, though I don’t know what I’d do with it.”
    “Open a bakery?” I suggested.
    “Like I need two businesses to run.”
    “You could always rent the place out to the ghost chasers.” I popped the last of the scone in my mouth.
    Grant’s eyes went wide. “That’s a fabulous idea.”
    “Wait—I was joking.”
    “No. It’s good. It’s really good. They’re looking to move out of their place—too small and not enough . . . you know . . .”
    “Decay?”
    “History. They were saying they wanted to move closer to the older part of town. This whole block’s been trying to go high-end for years.” He winced. “It hasn’t caught on, which is fine with it me. I like things the way they are.”
    “And you think bringing in people who run around doing seances is going to bring the property value up?”
    “Séances.” He