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  Her ghost drive stopped at the destination, and she parked quickly. A few cars might have seen her appear, but no one honked or stopped to stare. It was one of the joys of being in ghost mode herself. She grabbed the bag out of the back seat and headed to the apartment on the third floor.

  The woman who opened the door had puffy eyes, a fading bruise on her face, and the frightened look of a small mammal when a hawk was nearby.

  “Hello, I am Hecate Wakeman. You called?”

  The woman sobbed and nodded. “She won’t leave me alone.”

  “Where is she?” Asking the question was a formality. She could feel the heat coming from the corner of the apartment.

  “In the bedroom.”

  Hecate smiled and walked to the bedroom, prepared as always for it to be a prank. Only Esmy’s friends ever thought it was funny to call her in for a fake visitation, but none of them would have thought to apply the heat to indicate an evil ghost.

  The flaring creature in the bedroom was definitely not a fake. The heat of hostility could not be imitated by the living.

  “Becky. I hear that you are not a very nice person, and you are a worse ghost.” She set her bag on the bed, and she pulled out her short little whip.

  The handle had one foot of leather extruding, but that was all.

  The woman who was glowing with crimson writhed and laughed. “Who are you, and why are you here?”

  “Oh, I am the ghost extractor, and you are a ghost.” She stepped, so she was in line with the ghost.

  “What do you think you can do? I am already dead.” The scoffing indicated that Becky thought she was beyond interference. She was about to learn she was wrong.

  Hecate gripped her whip, and the coils of energy extended from her hand to the tip of the whip. Twelve feet of tearing energy lashed out and wrapped around the woman who had died of a heart attack while beating her partner. No matter the gender, an abusive spouse was a dark soul. When you used love to keep your target vulnerable and at your mercy, you really were the worst sort of spirit.

  Becky screamed, and the lights in the apartment flickered.

  “Good gracious. You are strong. It’s a pity you could have done such good in the world, but you chose this.” Hecate pulled the whip tight, and the ghost struggled.

  Holding her in one hand, she dug through the bag and pulled out a new poppet. She slid the poppet between them and pulled the red ghost toward her. When Becky hit the poppet, she went in.

  Hecate moved quickly, grabbed a stone from her bag, and pressed it to the poppet, wrapping it tight to the poppet with a crimson ribbon. The edges of the doll were already starting to darken.

  She put her whip to her hip where it stayed. Everything else except the poppet went back in the bag. A repulsion stone came out of the bag, and Hecate didn’t hesitate. The woman in the poppet was evil, and she needed to be torn to pieces and banished from the living world.

  “Cora, I have removed her. For the next week, I want you to keep this stone in your pocket or even tucked in your bra. After that you can dispose of it as you like. You don’t need to see or hear from me again, and she will not be bothering you anymore.”

  The woman blinked. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it. She’s gone, and if I can get her to stay gone, we will both be better off. Here is the card of a therapist. Tell her you had a code red, and she will help you to get some counselling.”

  The woman blinked and then threw her arms around Hecate’s neck. The poppet was held away, and Hecate leaned her head against Cora’s cheek. The squeak of surprise always gave her a piercing pain in the heart, but the client backed away, and Hecate was on her way down the apartment steps a moment later.

  At the car, she got the metal containment unit—or the thermos—and stuffed the poppet inside. It would keep her from leaking into the car while Hecate drove.

  It was going to be a wild ride home, but this ghost needed to be dealt with.

  She stood at her home, and her ghosts formed a confining circle. It was more for display than anything else. This was not their job, it was hers.

  She got her whip out and pulled out her blade. Once her weapons were ready, she put the thermos in the center of the space, opened it, and pulled out the poppet. The fabric was charred and smouldering.

  She took the thermos and lid back to where she was waiting, and she picked up her blade, held her whip and watched.

  The ghosts had been briefed, and they were all beyond injury, but their energies could still be messed with, so they stood back.

  It took four minutes for the poppet to burn through the ribbon, and when the restraining stone fell off, Becky was out.

  She roared out with a scream. “Cora! I will kill you, bitch!”

  Hecate tilted her head. “Oh, you are far from her now. You will never find her again.”

  The blazing ghost looked at her and whispered, “You. What are you?”

  “None of your business.” She lashed out at Becky and caught her around the shoulder, wrapping the whip completely and sending power through it. The red ghost screamed, and the arm disappeared into ashen fragments.

  “You can give up your ghost, or you can be torn apart piece by piece. You are no longer welcome here.” She flicked out, and the whip took the left leg, leaving the ghost fixed in place and writhing in pain and fury.

  It wasn’t pleasant, but the red ghosts would not accept life or existence away from their targets. It took the better part of an hour, but eventually, the last shriek was fading in the air.

  Hecate swayed and sighed. She hated doing that, but it was like having a rabid dog. Sure, she could tie it up, but it would get loose, and then, she was liable for the damage. It was better to just put them down when she found them.

  She groaned and collected the few items—the stone that just provided overflow for the raging spirit until it fell off, her blade the thermos, and the embers of the poppet were stomped into the ground.

  She grabbed what she could and hauled it back to the house. If any of the equipment was missing, she could pick them up in the morning. Right now, she needed sleep under six heated blankets with two under her. Nothing like a hot ghost to make her feel chilled to the soul.

  She really hoped the next day would bring silence. And maybe hot chocolate.

  Chapter Seven

  Ulysses Wakeman looked at his granddaughter for the first time, and he frowned. “Pardon me, Esmerelda, but are you sure that you are my granddaughter? You look like Andrew, but there is something missing.”

  His granddaughter looked at him with raised brows. “What were you expecting?”

  He held onto the book that had just gotten another page the night before. This woman did not look like she had put that page into the grimoire. She was far too well-rested. “Are you familiar with what your father did for a living?”

  “My mother said he travelled, and funds were placed into their account from an offshore. When he died, there was a bulk payment, and that was it.”

  He sighed. “I am afraid to say this, but I believe my son fathered another child.”

  “Oh, I know he did. After he was dead as well, if you would believe my mother.”

  He got excited. “You have a brother?”

  “A sister. She dabbles in the occult if that is what you are talking about.”

  He looked at the slightly dismissive posture that she was exhibiting, and he smiled and nodded. “Ghosts. She is involved with ghosts.”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  Ulysses sighed. “It seems I was premature in my letter. The funds are for her so that she can continue my work after I am gone.”

  Esmy’s features showed a flicker of disappointment before she nodded. “Right. In that case, it has been nice to meet you. Would you like her address?”

  He nodded. “Please. My time is short, and I need to see her as soon as possible.”

  His granddaughter paused, and then, she incl
ined her head. “I will drive you. She is hard to find if you don’t know where to look.”

  He smiled at her change of heart. “Thank you.”

  Esmy Wakeman smiled at him. “Thank you for coming. You complete our family in a way I didn’t know I needed.”

  He offered his arm, and they walked out to his rental car. He was about to see more of the province that his son had called home before he died.

  * * * *

  Hecate woke up in the afternoon, and she checked her messages. Thessa had gotten a call from Cora, and all was under control there.

  There was a note from Esmy that said she was on her way, but Hecate assumed it was from the day before.

  She took a hot shower while her coffeemaker did its work to keep her alert and warm.

  She made sure that the shower took her tears over the woman who lost her ghost the night before at her hands. It was always terrifying to face the reds, and it was worse to take them apart. She didn’t like the idea of killing. Not even those already dead.

  She pulled on her underwear, and then, it was a jeans and sweatshirt day, no matter what the temperature was outside.

  She loaded a cup of coffee with sugar and cream, and then, she headed out onto her deck so she could watch the open spaces with the occasional ghost in the daylight.

  She was a little surprised when she heard the sound of the car driving up. She checked her phone again, saw the entirety of her sister’s message, and she groaned.

  She continued to sit on her bistro chair, and she smiled as Esmy and then the man who must be their grandfather got out of the car. He had a very large book in his arms.

  Once they were on their way to her, she got up, and they climbed the deck. “Can I get you a coffee or tea?”

  Her grandfather gave her a grateful look. “Tea, please, and can you tell my granddaughter that I am here?”

  Hecate looked to Esmy and gave her a chiding look for not warning him. “I will be back with your tea and your granddaughter.”

  She went inside and got a pot, added the strainer and the tea leaves, and then, she used her instant hot water dispenser to provide nearly boiling water to the pot. She set it up on a tray with two cups, sugar, and milk.

  She carried the tray back to the bistro set, and she looked at Esmy. “You didn’t tell him.”

  She set the tray down and extended her hand to the elderly man. “Hello. I am Hecate Wakeman. I am Esmy’s twin.”

  He paused. “You?”

  She lifted her phone and brought up the image of her mother holding her sister and herself in the hospital. She turned the phone to him. “Me. And Mom. And Esmy.”

  He looked at the image of her mother holding the babies, and his skin darkened. “He never mentioned it.”

  She pointed at her face and smiled. “This? Yeah, given that you sound excessively English, I am not surprised. But, given how my mother still speaks of him when my stepfather isn’t around, he was the love of her life, and he thought enough of her to come back and reassure her after he was dead.”

  She sat and looked at the gathering of ghosts who had felt her controlled distress.

  He glanced over his shoulder, and then, he froze.

  Hecate could feel him gathering energy. “They are my guests, and if you do anything to any one of them, I will use many of my own farm tools to send you to join them.”

  He turned toward her. “You see them?”

  “See us? She brought us here. She is protecting us and our loved ones. Don’t you dare upset her, ghost hunter.” Amber was glaring at him, hands on hips.

  He blinked. “They are here at your invitation?”

  “Of course. They didn’t do anything wrong, their love just extends beyond the grave. That isn’t something to be punished for. So, I make arrangements with their loved ones, and I extract them, bringing them here once everyone knows what is going on. Some of them even get visitors.”

  She waved at the ghosts that everything was fine.

  Esmy frowned. “What just happened?”

  Their grandfather turned to her. “I have just found out where your father’s power resides. Your sister and I were speaking with one of the ghosts here.”

  Esmy squeaked. “They are here?”

  Hecate groaned. “Of course, they are. There are thirty-nine of them right now. There were forty, but Mr. Hiller left yesterday while I was out. His wife passed, so he left to be with her.”

  Amber whispered, “Can you let her see me?”

  Hecate held up her hand and gave energy to Amber. Amber looked at Esmy and smiled. “We have heard a lot about you. Your sister is amazing, by the way.”

  Hecate swayed in her chair, and Amber let go of her. “I am sorry, Hecate. I forgot.”

  Her grandfather frowned. “What is wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just had to deal with a red ghost last night. It is always exhausting. Takes me a day or so to recover.”

  He brightened up. “Red ghosts?”

  She sighed and extended her hand again. “Hello, I am Hecate Wakeman. Who might you be?”

  He blinked. “My deepest apologies. I am Ulysses Wakeman. Your grandfather. I have waited far too long to come and meet you, both of you.”

  Esmy pressed Hecate’s coffee cup into her hand and steadied it for the trip to her mouth. “It isn’t that we aren’t happy to see you, but why now?”

  Ulysses ran a hand over his face, and he sighed. “I owe you that, at the very least. I am dying. My heart is failing, and I expect to be dead within the next two weeks.”

  Esmy snorted. “How can you know that?”

  Ulysses looked to Hecate. “You know. You know your last day.”

  She nodded slowly. “I do. I knew the day of my death on the same day that I began to work with the ghosts.”

  Esmy gasped. “You didn’t tell me.”

  Hecate turned an exhausted glance toward her. “That was when your friends started calling me at all hours for ghost emergencies. I thought you wouldn’t really be interested. After that, we rarely spoke, and there wasn’t much point. Would you have believed me?”

  Esmy shook her head. “I don’t think I would have. I thought you were just trying to be special.”

  “I was special enough being the only black girl at our high school.” Hecate pushed against the table. “I need more coffee.”

  The small table wobbled, and Esmy lunged to catch her. “Easy, Heck. Sit. I will get you some more coffee. Have you eaten?”

  “No. I just woke up.” She slumped back down like a cranky toddler. Her grandfather was smiling.

  “Your father used to look just like that after he had added to our grimoire.”

  “When he what?”

  The large book was pressed into her hands. “Read it.”

  The book was warm, and she hugged it for a minute before her sister returned with her coffee.

  “I put some pastries in the toaster, and there are two meat pies in the oven.” Esmy rubbed her shoulder.

  “Thank you, Esmy. Sorry I snapped.”

  “It’s okay. It was true. I was a stupid teen and didn’t realize what a rift it would cause until it was too late to fix it.”

  Hecate cupped the coffee and slammed it down her throat. Her body cooled it before it even hit her stomach. “Never too late to build bridges.”

  “I will get you another and check on your pop tarts.”

  Ulysses frowned. “You have an issue with hypothermia?”

  She gave him a bland look. “Look at me. Really look at me. Tell me what you see.”

  He stared at her, and the colour drained from his face. “Oh my god.”

  “Yeah. Freaky, isn’t it? Half-human, half-ghost. Or a ghost in a human suit. However you want to describe it.”

  “You aren’t even possible. How did it happen?”

  “My father did something that let him bring his ghost home in physical form for one night with my mom. She was already carrying
Esmy, so I was the secondary addition. I was undetected until Esmerelda was born, and I was the next one to the exit. Everybody was shocked, including the doctors.”

  Esmy came in with the pop tarts on a plate and another cup of coffee. “Here you go.”

  Ulysses frowned. “You shouldn’t be alive.”

  Hecate bit into the molten pastry and enjoyed the bit of heat that she got from it. “I know. Nice to hear someone else say it.”

  Esmy paused and sat down. “What?”

  Their grandfather turned to Esmy. “Hecate shouldn’t be able to move, much less communicate. She’s a ghost in a human body.”

  Esmy frowned. “Aren’t we all?”

  “No. We are souls, spirits. We become ghosts when we leave the land of the living. Hecate. She is straddling both the worlds all day, every day.”

  Hecate toasted them with her coffee. “Currently, I am sitting in both.”

  Her sister looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. “Does it hurt?”

  “It is tiring. It drags at me, and my focus is just on getting strong enough so that I can return to work.” She shrugged. “After that. I wait until I am called.”

  “How do they call you?” Ulysses leaned forward.

  “I don’t know. They all say that they find a listing online or see an ad on the side of a bus. Some even see my number magnetized to their fridge on a flier. All of them can’t find my number again unless they need it, so I set them up with a grief counsellor to ease them through the loss and transition.”

  Esmy blinked. “When did you start doing that?”

  Amber put her hand on Hecate’s shoulder but didn’t pull power.

  “I started doing that when Thessa’s daughter died in a senseless car accident. She was the only one sober, and she was the only one out of five that died. You saw her earlier. Amber. She was sixteen and out with friends. Thessa nearly followed her, but when she was able to talk to Amber, they hashed everything out. Left nothing unsaid, and now, Thessa comes by once a month for a visit, so I power the stones here up and stay in my home while they visit.”