Magical Whispers & the Undead (Mystic Willow Bay, Witches 5)

A sob wrenches from my chest as I hover in the clouds cascaded by rainbows of colors. The town is just a speck below my feet and various colors shimmer across my ghostly skin as I hug my knees to my chest.

“I don’t want to go back,” I admit over the heavy breeze. “There’s nothing there for me.”

As if an unearthly presence is hiding in the clouds, the softest plea caresses my ears.

“Eva, please don’t leave me.”

Hunter. And he sounds upset.

When I peer down at my legs and arms, my skin has become more transparent. My spirit is dying. The Afterlife is calling my name.

“I should just let go,” I whisper as tears drip down my cheeks. “If they want to kill me, I must be bad, right?”

“Please,” Hunter whispers from somewhere. “I can’t lose you. I need you, okay? I’ve needed you since the day I met you.”

I squeeze my eyes shut as a wave of pain, sadness, and regret washes over me. “I’m so sorry, Hunter, but I don’t think I’m going to—”

“Huh. I’m not sure I’ve ever had to collect a soul from the clouds before.” A deep voice rises over the brisk breeze, hilarity ringing in his tone.

I open my eyelids and cringe. “Oh, crap.”

The cloaked figure—aka, the freakin’ Grim Reaper—grins, his face just a shadow beneath his hood. “Hello, Evalee, it’s so nice to meet you again.”

Huh? “Again?” I’ve met this dude before?

He dismisses me with a flick of his wrist, which is surprisingly covered in flesh. I always thought the Grim Reaper was more skeleton-like. “We’ll catch up later. Right now, I need to collect your soul.”

I may have lost my damn witch’s marbles for a faerie wing flicker of a second and thought about surrendering to death, but now that Death himself is staring me in the face …

I stretch my legs and push to my feet. “Um, yeah, I think I’m going to pass.”

“Death doesn’t give out passes on Tuesdays,” he drones, sounding bored.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. You can give me one then.” I spring on my toes, preparing to fly, but he folds his fingers around my wrist.

“You can’t outrun death, strange hybrid-girl.” Amusement dances in his tone.

Hybrid. I’m a hybrid with all sorts of powers. There must be a way out of this.

Think, Eva, think. Which one of your powers could outwit the reaper? Demon feeder? Probably not. Witch? Yeah, since I’m so awesome at using my powers. Succubus …

Witch’s brewing pot! I have an idea!

Lowering my feet back down to the clouds, I spin around and smile sweetly at the reaper. “You know, you’re very handsome for a crazy paranormal who steals souls.” I trail my fingers up the front of his cloak while batting my eyelashes at him.

He snorts a laugh. “Nice try, but your succubus powers won’t work on me.” He snags ahold of my other wrist and yanks me closer to him. “Now, open up. It’s time to feed me your soul.”

I try to wrench away, but he’s freakishly strong. “No! I’m not ready to die.”

He only laughs, his lips nearing mine as he dips his head. “No creature ever is.”

I lift my leg and kick him in the shin, but only end up hurting my foot. Then I scream until my lungs ache, tears pooling in my eyes.

“Eva, please don’t leave me,” I hear Hunter whisper again.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper back as the Grim Reaper opens his mouth and starts to devour my soul.

8

Hunter

Peyton was right; the Ghost Breather is being uncooperative. I understand not always liking the powers you possess, but I’m getting pissed. The more time we waste trying to get her to come out and help us, the longer Evalee stays dead.

“Just walk in,” I tell Peyton as she raps her knuckles on the front door of the single-story house located in a sketchy neighborhood on the outskirts of Mystic Willow Bay.

“Give her a second, okay? She hates this ghost shit, and honestly, I don’t blame her.” She bangs on the door again.

The curtain covering the window at the side of the door moves back, and a shadow of a face peers out.

“Open up!” I shout, but the curtain only falls shut again.

Peyton waits another a minute before knocking on the door again. Like the other ten to twenty times she’s knocked, no one answers.

“How does she even know why we’re here?” I step back and look at all the windows. Not a single light is on, but every so often, a face briefly appears in a window.

“Um, hello, you’re carrying a dead body.” Peyton gives a pressing glance at Eva’s lifeless body. “Why else would we be here?”

I adjust Eva’s body in my arms, noting her body temperature is rapidly dropping. My stomach coils with knots as a fading sensation sweeps through me.

Something’s wrong.

“You should’ve left her body in the car,” she adds, staring down at Evalee.

I shake my head. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to leave her alone anywhere. Too many dead bodies in this town go missing.”

I hold Evalee closer to my chest. She looks even paler than when she first died. And her body is as chilly as an ice storm, while my body feels like a dissipating cloud.

Something is definitely not right.

“I think we need to hurry,” I say. “She’s getting really cold and pale.?

??

“She’s dead.” Peyton rolls her eyes. “That’s how she’s supposed to look.”

“I know, but … she’s getting colder and paler, and …” I rack my brain for the right words to explain how I feel. “I’m not sure why, or if I’m just being overly paranoid, but I swear I can feel her fading.”

“I’m trying my best, Hunter.” Peyton heaves an exhale then hammers her fist against the door again. “Come on, Rowan; open the damn door. It’s an emergency!”

As Peyton continues to bang on the door, Evalee’s body temperature plummets.

As panic sets in, I sink to the steps, settling her body in my lap. I sweep her hair back from her face. Her skin is as white as the clouds, her lips blood red, and that fading sensation I feel emitting off her is amplifying by the second.

What’s going on? How can I feel her fading?

Suddenly, it dawns on me. The fading feeling is from our shared magic. I can feel Evalee’s magic diminishing.

Does that mean her ghost is leaving?

No, I’m not going to fucking lose her.

“This is why I don’t deal with this shit anymore.”

The unfamiliar voice startles me. I snap my head up as I jolt. Then I relax a drop when I realize where the voice came from.

The front door is now open and a girl around Evalee’s age is standing in the doorway with a frown on her face. She’s dressed all in black, which contrasts strangely with her nearly white hair and the most silvery eyes I’ve ever seen.

Rowan, the Ghost Breather. She must be her.

“If you want to say your goodbyes, you should probably do it now,” Rowan tells me. “She’s about to go.”

My brows pull together. “Go where?”

Sighing, she steps forward onto the porch beside Peyton. “To the Afterlife.”

I shake my head in fucking denial. “No, Evalee’s a ghost. She accidentally cast this spell on herself a while ago, and—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rowan cuts me off, glancing at Peyton. “Spell or not, I can tell her spirit is fading, which means she only has a few minutes left before she permanently dies.”