Ghost Market (Lana Harvey, Reapers Inc. Book 6) by Angela Roquet

Author:Angela Roquet
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: urban fantasy, humor, paranormal romance, afterlife, grim reaper, mythology and folklore, demons and angels, lana harvey, reapers inc
Publisher: Angela Roquet

Chapter 13

"I think to be in exile is a curse, and you need to turn it into a blessing. You've been thrown into exile to die, really, to silence you so that your voice cannot come home. And so my whole life has been dedicated to saying, I will not be silenced." —Ariel Dorfman

I followed Bub, Kevin, and Abe across Memorial Drive to the travel booth on the corner, where I gave Bub a quick kiss and bid them all farewell as they ventured off to investigate the locations Tasha had circled on the map. I was still determined it was hers.

Maybe Bub was right and I had painted Tasha as the villain prematurely, but I didn’t care. She was already guilty, so even if her lipstick didn’t match the circles on the map, it wouldn’t do anything to help her case in my book.

Once I was alone, I crossed Divine Boulevard and stopped in front of the Little Folk Shoppe. The heady smell of incense created an exotic haze that stretched down the sidewalk in both directions and stained everything a pale gray.

I’d almost given the store to Bub and saved him from his own personal nightmare, but nostalgia had stopped me. Winston used to sneak out of the throne realm to buy Naledi incense from this quaint little shop run by an exiled faerie, and we’d held secret meetings in the tiny garden tucked between the shop and the alley out back. I’d never actually been inside before.

The store’s front door was painted dark brown, looking much like a tree trunk against the building’s flaking, green brick exterior, and even more so with the narrow arbor that framed the door and supported a tangle of honeysuckle. It was so overgrown that I had to duck when I entered.

I expected a bell to jingle, but instead, the corner of the door bumped a wooden wind chime suspended from the ceiling. It bounced off the one hanging next to it, and then a domino effect took over, echoing an endless encore of hollow knocks and thumps.

“Be with ye in a moment,” an aged voice called from somewhere unseen.

I closed the door behind me and took a cautious step inside, avoiding the many tables of trinkets that crowded the entry. Rows and rows of short shelves filled the small space, and over their tops I spied a pair of curtains that had been tied off to reveal a window into a small back room.

As I neared, I noticed a counter spanning beneath the curtains, topped with an old-fashioned cash register and a dozen mason jars filled with various stones and crystals. One of the jars held some water and several blackthorn clippings heavy with white, star-shaped blossoms. I couldn’t smell them over the musk of incense, but they were beautiful to look at. So beautiful that I didn’t notice the little old man until he was standing right in front of me.

“What can I help ye with today?” he asked, giving me a tight-lipped smile.

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