Now that was interesting indeed. My mentor Eammon was, of course, the leprechaun in question.

“No,” I mumbled. “Mostly, I’m done listening to the world and its opinions when it comes to people. By their standards I should not be friends with Eric because he’s a bigfoot. Yet I would consider him a friend.”

The strokes of the brush picked up speed again. “That is very wise.”

I wanted to laugh at her. I knew buttering up when I heard it. Even if I hadn’t realized what Boy Butter was based on the packaging.

“Nah, I’m just tired of jerks and assholes. I’d rather form my own opinions about the people I deal with than let someone else tell me they’re a certain way because they are a fairy, or a bigfoot, or a werewolf.” Or a blacksmith with magic hands.

She hummed a little as she worked on my face. “I like you. I didn’t expect that.”

A smile slid over my lips as she put something on them. “Two of my closest friends at the moment are a river maid and a walking skeleton. Why not a fairy too?” Kind of rounded out my current posse. My lips quirked up. “Besides, if Eric likes you, you can’t be too bad.”

The brush paused over my right eye and then picked up again. A few minutes later she stopped. “There, that is the best I can do given my canvas.”

I opened my eyes and gave an experimental frown to see if said canvas wrinkled or not. “Pretty good, no crease lines, no red eyes.” I nodded. “Good job, Kinkly.” Really, more than a good job. My skin was smooth, eyes perfectly highlighted, lips just pouty enough to be enticing, not like I’d stuffed them into the business end of a vacuum.

She blushed and floated about until I held out the palm of my hand for her to land in. “May I come with you to see this ex-man of yours?” she asked. “He sounds horrible. I like to see horrible things. And maybe I can convince you to talk to the lady.”

Subtle she was not, but I admired a determined woman.

My eyebrows shot up. “Why not? Maybe you can put a hex on him.”

She flashed her super sharp teeth. “It would be my pleasure.”

2

“The auction for this diamond in the rough, partially furnished 1898 brick home, complete with its own resident ghost, will begin in under ten minutes! Seated right next to the infamous Sorrel-Weed House, you could turn this into an amazing Airbnb with a wait list a mile long!” The realtor’s voice rang out over the small crowd gathered around the front porch of the home that I’d grown up in, the home my gran had lived in for as long as I could remember. “Created in a similar style to its more famous neighbor, this Greek revival house is classic and will never go out of style.”

“What about the ghosts next door?” someone yelled from the crowd. “They really walk around at night looking for victims?”

Laughter rolled through the group, and Monica wagged a finger at the offending party. “Now, now. We here in Savannah love our history, and this place here”—she swept her hand backward to encompass Gran’s house—“is as haunted as they come. You won’t be disappointed! In fact, we already have a list of ghost hunters ready to come in and communicate with the dead!”

Savannah, Georgia was as notorious for its hauntings as it was for the sheen of wealth it had accumulated over the years, so a haunting wasn’t unheard of. However, in a town that lived on tourism, a haunted house could become a money-maker for the right investor. Especially considering it sat next to one of the most investigated haunted houses in town.

Me? I was not the right investor—I was just a woman who wanted what rightfully belonged to her.

“Stupid people,” I muttered as I watched their feet trample Gran’s front lawn, which was really her front herb garden. Yes, it looked messy and unkempt, but she’d sworn up and down that was how the plants liked it, and they grew better when you didn’t try to force them in a box. Kind of like people. The lavender bush by the wall was nearly shoulder height, its soft purple blooms dipping and bobbing in a soft breeze. Kinkly sat on my left shoulder, her legs using my boob for a footrest. The powers of a great push-up bra were all that made it possible.

“Yes,” Kinkly said. “They do look stupid. Why are they stepping on all the good plants?”

My eyes swept over the people who’d shown up to bid, or maybe just to gawk, but I saw neither Himself—my ex-husband, for those not following along— nor anyone else I recognized, and my gaze came back to the person on the porch. The realtor, Monica, had on a too-tight pencil skirt and was cradling a clipboard in the crook of one arm as she flourished a pen in her other hand. Smiling magnanimously at the crowd as if she were a not-quite-as-pretty-Vanna White, she said, “This is very exciting. We’ve not had an auction on a house in our sweet little town in a very long time. I’ll let you have one final look through, and then at noon on the dot, we will start the bidding at one hundred thousand dollars. The down payment, ten percent of the final amount, will be required immediately in the form of cash or a bank draft.”

I didn’t go into the house with the rest of the people, but instead waited on my spot in the middle of the only path in or out of the small fenced yard. Sweating for more reasons than the warm spring weather. Ten percent was a lot of any amount. I wouldn’t be able to bid as high as I’d hoped.

As I waited, my thoughts circled around the house. I’d come to Savannah to reclaim it, although I’d initially intended to go a legal route. Himself was a divorce lawyer, though, and a good one, as demonstrated by the series of incomprehensible legal manipulations by which he’d both reclaimed my gran’s house and left me with all our marital debt. Everything about the situation pissed me off, but nothing so much as losing Gran’s house. It was about the only thing I’d wanted as our marriage fell apart.

And he’d damn well known it.

I let out a slow breath, fighting to push the anger away. Some people could use anger to propel them, but it had always exhausted me.

“Think positive,” I whispered to myself.

“Positive what?” Kinkly asked.

“Happy thoughts,” I mumbled, knowing the other humans in the yard would only see me talking to myself like a crazy woman.

“Oh, you want to fly?” Kinkly tugged on my ear, and I glanced at her and quickly shook my head. I wasn’t sure if she was kidding, and the last thing I needed was to go floating over the yard and scaring all the people with what looked like a legit demon possession . . . wait. Maybe that was exactly what I needed!

“Yes! You can do that?” I clapped my hands together.

Kinkly tugged on my ear. “Then you have to agree to talk to my boss.”

“Sure, talking I can do!” If I could scare away most if not all of the bidders, I’d be golden. Besides, talking never hurt anyone. Right?

Right.

Excitement and hope flared as Kinkly fluttered up to the top of my head and did a tap dance on my skull.

I was going to pull a Peter Pan and scare the ever-loving bejesus out of these people, and the only word I could come up with was epic. This was going to be epic.

A fuzzy tingle rolled from my skull down my limbs, and my hands floated up above my head, followed by my left leg, which left me standing on a single foot, like a really awkward ballerina. The pull on my limbs was uncomfortable for a moment, my body dangling from my arms and my left leg, but whatever gravity had held me down finally let go and I popped off the ground.

“It’s cursed, this place is cursed! Demons! Gawd in heaven, I’m possessed!” I yelled and let out a strangled growl as I threw my head back. I wouldn’t usually make a spectacle of myself to get what I wanted (at least not intentionally). But this was Gran’s house. A little spectacle was worth it. Really, who was I trying to impress? No one, that’s who.

The potential buyers came running back down the steps, flashes of horror on one face after another, and then the shrieking began. I got a glimpse of Monica’s seething face as I spun in the air, moved by a force outside of myself. Because while it was one thing to want a haunted house, it was another to see someone floating around your potential yard all snarling and growling. Most people were all bluster and no bite when it came to this kind of thing.

I turned again, not meaning to. “Kinkly?”

“Sorry, you’re bigger than I thought. I couldn’t lighten all of you up.”

I grimaced. “Whatever. You’ll be able to get me down?”

“Um.”

“UM?” I twisted around in the air. “Are you kidding me?”

Monica stomped down the front steps. “This is ridiculous! It’s a stunt!”

She touched my dangling foot as if she’d pull me down, but instead she lifted off the ground with a squeal that would make a particular farm animal proud.

“She sounds like a pig!” Kinkly giggled, not one for subtlety. “I didn’t think I could send my magic over her!”

“Contagious,” I muttered as I tried to wiggle my foot loose of Monica’s hands.

Kinkly fluttered around. “I’m trying, I’m trying! I’m not as experienced as some!”

I did my best to relax, but I was floating upside down, Monica hanging from one limb. On the bright side, all the humans from the area had left. My plan had worked. There would be no other bidders, and I’d have the house in no time.

Gran would be so happy! Hell, I knew I was grinning like a fool.

My thoughts must have summoned her, as a gray-haired woman in swirling skirts and a loose blouse stepped down the stairs, her body fading a little in the bright sunlight as she drew closer. I mean that literally, she did not have a solid body and I could see through her to the porch stairs.

Monica let out one last shriek and went quiet.

“Did she pass out?” I asked, though no one answered me.

I shook my foot and Monica’s body flopped a little like a fish on the line, her fingers digging into me out of sheer self-perseveration despite the fact that she was out cold. Well damn. Score one for good instincts.