“Which is why you’re laughing.”
“Which is why I’m laughing,” he agreed. “Anyway, Ace, out with it.”
“Wilbur claims the Boos were…dead.”
“Revenants again?” If so, I wanted to nope right out of this case. “Those are so icky.”
“No.” Asa pushed around his ice cream. “Not ghosts either.”
“They were definitely full of enough hate and fervor to get stuck on Earth with unfinished business,” I mused, “but if they’re not ghosts or revenants, then what are they?”
“There’s a full spectrum between ghost and revenant,” Clay pointed out. “Poltergeists, zombies, vengeful spirits, wendigos.” He pursed his lips. “Do vampires fall between the two? Dead like ghosts, but still feasting on the living, like revenants?”
“Vampires are more undead than unalive.”
“What?” Clay twisted his mouth into a corkscrew. “Did you hear yourself just then?”
Ignoring him, a favorite hobby, I added to the pile of questions. “Why are the Boos here of all places?”
As far as we could prove, they had never stepped foot in Raymond during their lives.
“They were born in Maine, so there’s no familial connection.” Clay checked their file on his phone. “They have no living relatives on record. They crusaded down the East Coast into the Southwest, but there’s no mention of this town in their exploits.”
“Then either their deaths were connected to Raymond,” I surmised, “or someone raised them here.”
Given their MIA status for the last decade and change, we couldn’t afford to rule out the possibility they sought refuge here. Though, if they were dead, we might never learn what made them pick this town to disappear in. For all we knew, they keeled over while passing through on their way someplace else.
“Assuming the burial site is here,” Asa wondered, “what happens if the black witch decides they want to take their toys and leave? I can’t imagine them going through the hassle if they can’t use the Boos for more than a ten-square-mile radius.”
“You would need an object imbued with meaning to a particular person to raise their spirit.” I could only speculate so far without knowing what, exactly, the Boos had become. “A token with sentimental value, or a button off the shirt they wore when they died. Something along those lines. It stands to reason if they were attached to an item, it could act as an anchor. Move it and move them.”
“We need to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Amherst.” Asa tossed his trash. “Find out what they know about the Boos and the black witch.” He took my hand and helped me stand. “Clay can question the kids tonight.”
We had already encountered a white witch family and a dryad, so it stood to reason there were more creatures here than met the eye. Paranormals who were not in the Black Hat database. Assuming none posed an imminent threat, I would leave it that way. But if we located a practicing black witch, one dabbling in the realm of necromancy, I saw no choice but to add a pin to the map for the protection of everyone here.
And if we did have a black witch with an affinity for the dead on our hands, we had problems.
Necromancers had cornered that market, and they would kill to protect their monopoly. There was good money in bringing humans back from the dead as vampires. Even more in resuscitating pets who crossed the Rainbow Bridge before their owners were ready to let them go. All it took was cold, hard cash.
Semi-famous or not, ghosts like the Boos didn’t make bank. Exorcisms paid peanuts, so did seances, but still. Just because necromancers didn’t want to do those jobs didn’t mean they would take kindly to learning someone else was doing them for free.
Oy.
If we were right, this had all the hallmarks of an inter-factions incident.
For all our sakes, I really hoped we were wrong.