Ghost of a Chance (Providence Paranormal College Book 8) Read online

  “No. Don’t even show your faces over there. Those guys eat lawyers for breakfast.” Tony crossed his arms over his chest, nostrils flaring as he tilted his head and leveled his gaze at the owl shifter. “There’s no point in even checking for wards. I can already tell you if my dad owns it, he wards it. Unless it’s a trap.”

  “But wards that extensive take time. How can your dad ward properties he just closed on yesterday?” Bianca had beaten me to the punch on that one. She was way sharper than the other solids gave her credit for. They didn’t understand that she wasn’t staring off into space half the time, just looking at all of us incorporeals. “Even for the most powerful Magi, wards take time and concerted effort. The same goes for Faeries, even the Pure kind.”

  “Wait.” Tony tapped one finger against his temple. “I can’t believe I’m actually asking this question. What’s the address of this house?”

  Bianca rattled it off and waited. Tony’s face paled except for two feverish looking spots high on his cheekbones. Maddie rolled her eyes and mouthed the words “fraidy cat” behind her hand at Bianca. Olivia clenched one fist at her side, glaring at Maddie. I knew the Umbral Magus was the fearless type, but she probably shouldn’t piss Olivia off. I’d seen that girl go off on Lane Meyer over the summer. Owls aren’t just cute fluffy birdies like everyone wants to think. They’re predatory, territorial, and protective.

  “Well, I know where it is now, so like it or not—” Olivia stepped closer to Tony, a vindictive little smirk on her lips as she approached him. He locked gazes with her as though the other two women in the Lounge were as invisible to him as I was.

  “Yeah, okay.” Tony looked like he was about to either kiss her or spit hairballs. “We can get in there. But we have to do it tonight.”

  “So you’ll help us?” Bianca smiled.

  “Yeah, sure, fine, whatever.” Tony stepped away from the owl shifter. “Bianca, Maddie, and me. And whatever ghost the whisperer wants to bring. No owls allowed.” Tony ran one hand over his head, ruffling his hair. “But all I can do is get them to open the door and stop paying attention to you guys for about an hour. You’re on your own for the rest.”

  And that’s how we all ended up back in Olneyville.

  “Funny story.” Tony sauntered down the street, a Bluetooth earphone clipped over his left ear. Brilliant. Also sneaky. I couldn’t blame people like Blaine Harcourt for not trusting the cat shifter. “A medium, a Magus, and a cat shifter walk into a Gatto Gang safehouse. They do it without bringing any food.”

  “So, what’s the punch line?” Bianca asked, whispering into her phone so Tony could hear without them breaking Maddie’s Umbral cover.

  “Them. Their tickets, actually. That’s what gets punched.” Tony turned a corner, his face glowing red in the neon light of a garish sign above a battered chrome storefront. It bore the words New York System. “That’s the only punch line you get unless you send something more appealing to a goombah’s senses than a Trojan Cat to the door. I’ll be back.”

  Bianca, Maddie, and I watched him enter the store, approach the counter, and shout what I assumed was a food order at the chef. Well, maybe “chef” was too fancy a term. The guy in the stained apron at the griddle was massive, his arms so long and broad that thirty of the hot dog rolls fit all down his left one. I squinted at him, wishing I could see auras or magic to confirm my guess about him.

  “Bear shifter?” Bianca glanced at Maddie.

  “No. Bigger and not nearly so hairy.” The Umbral magus gestured at the griller. “Rhino, maybe or elephant. His magic’s got no hint of water, or I’d say hippo.”

  “You’ve really come a long way with your studies, Maddie.” Bianca grinned at her friend.

  “I owe it all to Lynn.” Maddie shrugged. “She’s the one who started the summer online course trend, and she knows all the best study habits. The only Tinfoil Hatters who didn’t take any were Lane and the other guys in Night Creatures. But can you blame them?”

  “Of course not.” Bianca chewed her bottom lip. “And Fred Redford.”

  “Well, you can’t get on the Internet from the Under.” Maddie shook her head, then pointed at Tony, who’d made a second order. “Wow. How many goons do you think are in that house, Bianca?”

  “No idea. But Tony must know what he’s doing, right?” Bianca looked at me, and I winked. Any reassurance I could give her would help. She tended to overthink things when she believed she was in over her head.

  “He’s one crafty cat, I’ll give him that.” Maddie sighed. “But if the place is too packed, we might have trouble. My magic doesn’t do a thing to cover us if we bump into anyone or anything.”

  “Yeah, I remember.” Bianca clasped her hands together. “Interacting with nouns breaks the shadows. I promise to be careful.”

  “So does too much bright light.” Maddie glanced at Bianca. “You sure you can handle this? I’d never have thought you were the sneaky type.”

  “I’m not.” Bianca sighed. “But Professor Watkins said I had to go with you to get this thing, whatever it is. Horace, too. So there must be some Psychic or ghostly element to what we’re after that a Magus like you won’t be able to handle.”

  I wished I knew what Bianca really thought and felt about taking this risk and whether she shared my suspicion about the professor’s request. He’d hinted that there might be more than Gattos guarding the place. The situation looked much worse than we’d originally thought, and if things went too far south, we might not be able to handle them.

  We hadn’t crossed the line from partnership to Possession, which was supposed to be more like sharing a body than one of us taking it over from the other. Possession was a two-way street unless one of the partners was stronger than the other. We were about evenly matched. Only a ghostly medium and a living Psychic medium could do it, too. But I’d never worked up the courage to ask about trying it, even though it felt like Bianca and I had known each other forever.

  If we bonded that way, I’d know all of her thoughts and feelings, and she’d get the same from me. On top of that, our partnership would become permanent, and at exactly the same time she would discover my secret. If she didn’t have the same one, she might not want to be partners or even friends anymore, and after Possession, she wouldn’t have any way out besides death.

  Before I could start dwelling on all that potential drama, Tony sauntered out of the New York System joint. I glided along in the invisible wake behind the hidden girls, glad I couldn’t smell the oniony, beefy, and spicy wieners from inside Tony’s brown paper bag. Remembering was bad enough. The one time I’d gotten drunk, I binged on New York System. Worst night of my physical life.

  I stopped reminiscing to stare at the house Tony stopped in front of. The siding’s blue paint peeled like my skin used to three days after a blistering sunburn. The front door bore pockmark scars and squares where No Trespassing signs used to be. If I squinted, I could see their vestiges. Sometimes, signs had a way of clinging to the solid world like ghosts themselves.

  Tony Gitano set his lips in a casual smirk that avoided his eyes like the plague. Those were flat and severe. When he knocked, he blinked, and a feverish glint replaced the flatness in his eyes. His classmates liked joking about him being a coward, but once he found himself in danger, Tony had a gutter punk variety of bravery. Anyone who mistook it for false bravado might get a nasty surprise. The door opened scant seconds later.

  “Yeah, kid. Whaddaya want?” A Gatto goon I recognized from over the summer as Paul “the Maul” stood in the doorway. He occupied way too much space for Maddie and Bianca to get through.

  “Made a wiener run,” said Tony. “Thought I’d drop some here while I was in the neighborhood.”

  “Huh.” Paul put his hands on his hips and looked down his nose. “And what else? It’s never just one thing with you.”

  “Wanted to check out these new digs.” Tony pretended to stifle a yawn. “Turns out, they’re not worth all the time and effort Pops we
nt to to get them.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Paul grabbed Tony by the lapels and shook him, rattling the bag of wieners.

  “Composolutely and absotively serious.” Tony’s smile reminded me of a dagger.

  “Get your Hello Kitty tail in here, and I’ll show you something serious.” Paul dragged his boss’s unfavorite son through the door, turning to drop him on a foyer bench before heading back to close the door. That gave the girls the time and space they needed to hightail it inside.

  I floated through the wooden panel after it closed, intending to stay near Maddie and Bianca as they headed up the stairs. I spared Tony a backward glance. His pupils went vertical as his gaze locked on mine. His smile was wide and genuine this time, even though Paul berated him about disrespecting the other Mr. Gitano.

  Before I could investigate my suspicion that a cat shifter who shouldn’t be able to see me actually did, a muffled creak at the top of the stairs reminded me of why I was really here. I followed my partner and left Tony’s catty hinkiness for another time.

  Chapter Four

  Bianca

  We made it through the door just in time, but getting to the top of the stairs was another story. Maddie and I had to dodge out of the way when one of the Gattos left the second-floor bathroom and almost stepped on my toe. To make matters worse, Horace was still heading up the stairs, one ghostly finger tracing the ornately carved antique banister. The goon stopped as my ghost friend traipsed right through him, shivering. It’d figure that the shifter who happened to be Psychically sensitive was the one in the restroom.

  I shook a finger at Horace, rolling my eyes and feeling for all the world like he should have known better. But then again, maybe the old-timey decor had distracted him. He loved anything Victorian, which was why he always had the bowler hat and goofy goggles. I couldn’t stay annoyed at him for that.

  Luckily for us, the goon just went along on his way downstairs, making a beeline for one of the paper bags of wieners Tony had dropped on the bench in the hall. Apparently, the gut-busting food was more likely to kill a member of the big-cat Mafia than curiosity. Good for us, and hopefully Tony, too.

  We tip-toed all the way to the end of the hall because that’s where we expected to find the stairs to the third floor in a house like this. We went up, turning the corner after the first half-flight. The ceilings up here were all slanted, with cracked horsehair plaster and round windows. And finally, we saw the way to the attic Professor Watkins had mentioned. Behind a door, of course.

  “Well, at least it’s not one of those noisy drop-ladders.” Maddie punctuated her whisper with a shrug. She peered at a spot near my left shoulder, then caught my eye and raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, he’s here.” I looked past Maddie. “Do you have enough energy for turning a doorknob, Horace?”

  “Give me half a moment.” Horace straightened the brown jacket he always wore, tilted his hat, then adjusted his waistcoat and tie. After that, he cracked his knuckles before producing a pair of white gloves from up his sleeves.

  I watched, completely aware that all of his preparations had nothing to do with his clothes. Ghosts appeared how they imagined they should. Their appearance was an expression of their identity and skill, and all of their accessories had something to do with their strengths and talents. Without the ability to breathe or count heartbeats, ghosts needed other ways to concentrate and gather energy. Horace was focusing his will, just like I did with meditation, counting, and calming breaths.

  All ghosts need some kind of emotional force to affect the solid world. Only experienced or exceptionally strong-willed spirits could focus enough to do something as specific as turning a doorknob. All of Horace’s tools, personal items, and clothing were symbols and functioned as a way to channel his energy. As a ghostly medium, Horace had more of those than most other spirits. I knew it’d be the same for me after I died someday.

  Maddie elbowed me in the ribs. I rolled my eyes and tapped my wrist. Even though no one else was on the third floor with us, I didn’t want to make any more noise than we had to. The Umbral Magus’s impatience could get dangerous if we didn’t get a move on soon.

  Horace pointed one finger at the cut-glass doorknob, and I watched as his entire hand went nearly opaque. Maddie clutched her arms, shivering a little as our breath came out all misty even though it had been warm when we got up there. Ghosts exerting their will always dropped the ambient temperature. But this time, it got colder than the Nocturnal Lounge during cleaning night, when fifteen of my incorporeal helpers lifted the furniture so I could vacuum.

  My eyes stung when I blinked, and the inside of my nose prickled when I inhaled. I couldn’t feel my fingertips or the end of my nose. Looking at Maddie, I knew she experienced similar effects. Instead of shivering, she practically quaked. And she was from Vermont. Horace turned the knob, long-stilled hinges finally moving as the door unlatched and swung outward. I grabbed Maddie by the elbow because she seemed too distracted to come along on her own. I moved her just in time, too.

  Another spirit floated through the ceiling, this one in raggedy remnants of clothing like a tatterdemalion. Deformity defined its body, giving it the appearance of being threadbare in places and nearly solid in others. I’d never seen one before, but I knew this particular ghost had lost too much of themself and gone wraith.

  Maddie and I took the stairs behind the door two at a time on our toes, a real feat for the Magus since she was five foot nothing and wearing stompy Goth boots. At least I had long legs, soft shoes, and had taken ballet class all the way up until I became a medium.

  Once we’d reached the attic, I whipped out my key-fob. At one end was a little LED flashlight, which I switched on and swung around the room. The chest we were after squatted in the far corner, its hump-backed shape unmistakable though a drop-cloth shrouded it.

  “We’ve got to get out of here.” Horace’s voice sounded almost whiny, tired and strained. He looked a little faded, too. Drained energy problems were the price for a ghost of interacting with anything solid. I knew he’d get better once we got back to campus, where his contract was. But I didn’t have the strength myself to prop him up much with my own Psychic energy while in this kind of danger.

  “I know.” I reached for the drop-cloth, pulled it off to reveal metal handles on either end of the box. After that, I felt colder, and the room seemed a bit brighter. I’d broken Maddie’s Umbral cloaking spell.

  “No time to open it, just grab and go!” Maddie barreled past me, making a fist around one handle. I took up the other, and we lifted. She paused, and I felt a faint warm tingle. She nodded, and I knew she’d pulled her Umbral shadows back around us.

  The trunk didn’t weigh much, it was just cumbersome. I wondered how we’d get it down all those stairs without bumping anything. We didn’t manage that. The old chest clunked against one wall halfway down from the attic. Maddie redid her magic, and I held my breath the rest of the way, waiting for the sound of Gatto goons coming up here to investigate the noise.

  I expected to see the wraith back on the third floor, but it was gone. They could be unpredictable, but once a wraith decided to chase something, that’s what they did until whatever anchor kept them from moving on limited their range. Ghosts had to stay within a certain radius of anchors unless they had contracts listing either a set of locations or duties. But just before we got to the stairs heading down to the second floor, the wraith burst through from the ceiling. It had been following us from inside the attic.

  Maddie wanted to keep on going, but I stopped her without explanation. She knew I could see things she couldn’t. After all, Umbral Magi were no strangers to the idea of the selectively seen. Running through a wraith was bad news for a Magus. Whatever spells they had going would stop, and we couldn’t afford to lose her shadows. We were literally stuck between a wraith and the Gattos.

  “Hey, shady shade!” Horace waved his hands over his head, nearly knocking his bowler hat askew. “Why don’t yo
u pick on someone of your own incorporeality?”

  I blinked, mouth dropping open as Horace’s hands erected a pair of birdies I never imagined him using. I swallowed the laugh that tried to tumble out. The wraith understood the gesture’s intent even if it didn’t get the context. It headed right for Horace, leaving Maddie and me free to navigate the stairs.

  We trundled down, going as fast as we dared with the trunk. We made it down the flight and the second-floor hall, stopping at the head of the last set of stairs. And then, both of us nearly doubled over with laughter, not even caring that the magic cloaking spell dropped away. We didn’t need it.

  Tony Gitano sat on the hall bench, grinning up at us like the cat that had eaten an entire pet shop worth of canaries. He nudged an unconscious Paul next to him with one Converse-clad foot, prodding a long and droning snore from the goon’s grease-smeared mouth. And then, Tony got up and opened the front door, presenting a safe passage to us with a one-handed flourish.

  Maddie paused to redo her cloaking magic. It wouldn’t do to be seen leaving a Gatto Gang safe house with something we’d more than technically stolen. After that, we headed down and out onto the porch, then the sidewalk. Tony shut the door as he followed, his gaze on something across the street. He looked away before I noticed Horace leaning against a lamppost over there. The wraith was nowhere in sight.

  The group of us walked along in silence until I finally couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to know, so I glanced up to where Horace floated ahead and slightly above us.

  “What happened to that wraith back there?” I kept my voice quiet enough not to break Maddie’s spell, but loud enough that she could hear me.

  Maddie stifled a gasp as she finally understood why I stopped her upstairs. Horace continued on quietly for a few moments.

  “I guess it’s anchored to the building,” he finally said. “I went outside, and it just beat at this weird, round window, unable to follow.”