Saving Savannah

Eventually, I got into position. Bending my knees, I grabbed the base of the tremendous cabinet and lifted with all my might. The armoire shook, shuddered, then lifted about an inch off the floor…

Then my grip slipped, and I had to set it back down again.

“No way,” I grunted, shaking my head. “It’s too big. Too clunky.”

Savannah’s expression was a mixture of disappointment and understanding. “I was afraid of that.”

“I need my lifting straps,” I said. “And Erik. Maybe even Roman.” I flashed her a grin.

“Sorry, but you might have to see all three of us again.”

She pulled her hair back over one ear and stared up at me. Since my last statement, I noticed her skin had flushed a little bit redder than before.

“But for now,” I said, holding up our two sandwiches. “We eat!”

Twelve

SAVANNAH

My beautiful mahogany reading table doubled as a handy lunch space, as we sat facing each other in my cozy shop. Zane inhaled his sandwich, then ate half of mine. It was every bit as good as he’d boasted it to be, it was just way too big.

“So… what are those?”

I pointed to the thick stack of pamphlets sticking out from the pocket of his leather jacket. He pulled one out and handed it to me.

“See for yourself.”

It took me a moment to fold it open and scan its contents. My mouth split wide in a huge grin.

“You do ghost tours?”

“Haunted tours of Salem, yeah,” he said proudly. “It’s my second job. More of a hobby that pays, really. I love doing them.”

“Holy shit.”

“Of course I can’t do them every night,” he said. “What with the moving job and all that. But during this time of year, especially? I make a pretty good buck.”

I looked closer, reading about some of the things included on one of Zane’s tours. He stopped at Salem’s most haunted spots: the Witch House, the Lyceum, the Hawthorne hotel. A few random murder sites, thrown in for flavor. He ended it at Murphy’s pub, which I’d already heard had been haunted. But I was pretty sure he ended it there for the kickbacks, as well.

“So that’s what you were doing outside? Passing these out?”

He nodded, dabbing at his perfect mouth with the corner of his napkin.

“This is pretty fucking cool,” I said, handing it back to him.

“Glad you think so,” he smiled happily. “So when are we going?”

“Going where?”

“Well you read my palm, or my cards, or whatever, and I’ll take you on a private tour.”

“So quid pro quo, huh?” I chuckled.

“Or tit for tat,” he winked. “Whichever you prefer.”

I could tell by his smile he was already quite pleased with himself. I had to admit, it was pretty slick.

“Alright,” I agreed. “Once I’m all set up here, maybe I’ll go.” I wagged a finger at him. “But it had better be good. You’d better know your stuff.”