Prague Murder by Amanda A. Allen

Ingrid knew better than to say vacation. But when the ghost rose a little higher and drifted a little closer, it came out anyway.
    As a squeak.
    “Vacation.”
    The wind increased inside the enclosed courtyard and it was possible that she might have peed a little more.
    “Maybe you didn’t have those. Back when your parents imprisoned you in the convent for falling in love and then you got found out as a witch and you got killed.” She cleared her throat and then said hoarsely, “You probably didn’t have vacations then…”
    The sound of howling began, surrounding Ingrid in a way that reminded her far too much of an excellent movie theater. She could hear the noise in the vibration of her teeth.
    “Please stop,” Ingrid said, catching a flash of movement from the corner of her eye, and wanting to jump and skitter away, but there seemed to be no getting away from this ghost. “I’m kind of sticking my foot in my mouth. It’s not that we really think you killed that shapeshifter. It’s just that…”
    Dead Agnes drifted back a little bit. It seemed that Ingrid had shocked a dead dove who had existed for centuries. It took a special kind of terrible to make a dead person feel bad about their existence.
    If the howling and the wind died down a bit, it didn’t mean that Ingrid’s brain started functioning again. Because what she said next was, “I mean this is a little off-topic. But you keep coming back after you get exorcised. Why don’t you just stay in the dead world or whatever it is and find your lover?”
    Agnes’s eyes flared red.
    Well not red.
    They flared with actual flames.
    And then Ingrid yelped, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
    And she ran towards the door she caught that movement out of her eye again, but she was too terrified to see what it was. She slammed the door open with her magic and skittered inside just in time for Agnes to pick Ingrid up and throw her.
    Ingrid’s magic—instinctual more than thought out—cushioned her against the wall, but she curled into a ball, covering her head, and crying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again.
    There was a howl and then gasps from the people around her, but she was too afraid to look up, tucking her knees closer and desperately wanting Gabe to be in Prague to hold her if she was lucky enough to survive.
     
    * * * * * * * *
     
    “What did you do to Agnes,” Igor the Vampire demanded.
    Ingrid could feel that the ghost had gone, but she was afraid to move all the same. What if she came back? But then Cathy knelt down next to Ingrid and wrapped an arm around her, and somehow she was able to sit up. Emily stood in front of them as if she could somehow ward off the dead dove.
    “Em, my best and favorite dove,” Ingrid coughed, wondering if she smelled like pee. It had been just a little bit of peeing her pants. “She can walk through walls.”
    “I know. She’s inside the dead guy.”
    “Is he still out there?” She was squeaking again, but things were not going how she had hoped they would. And the body had been close to her while she’d been antagonizing a ghost and what if…what if…those flashes of movements were the dead guy? What if he’d risen from the dead? Oh…oh no.
    “Yep,” Emily said. And Ingrid didn’t need to be able to read minds to know that Emily knew that Ingrid was getting retroactively freaked out by the whereabouts of the body..
    “ What did you do to Agnes?” Igor the Vampire yelled at Ingrid.
    “Shut up,” Ingrid said as she stared at him and saw entirely unexpected things in his face. She could hardly even…
    “What?” Emily said looking between Ingrid and Igor the Vampire.
    “Oh my goodness, who changed you into a vampire?” Her voice was aghast as she stared at him.
    “What!” Cathy and Emily demanded in unison.
    “Look at his face,” Ingrid said, her voice a hoarse whisper.
    Cathy’s head cocked as she stared at Igor the Vampire and then she said,