Chapter Seven #2
My heart is trying to freaking claw its way out of my chest and out the window, right along with my soul. Milo is threatening to take over like we are about to duel with a witch and possibly be marked for spiritual repossession all at once.
Grabbing the rolling pin on the countertop between us, I wave it in front of me like a magical wand destined to fight the evil wizard.
“Hocus pocus ghostus erasus!” I shout, waving it in an x formation like sparks are going to fly out of it and into the ghost. “Go back to the light…or dark…or grave. I don’t know! Wherever it is you came from?”
The ghost blinks at me. Taking another puff off her cigarette, seeming even less impressed by my display then Bellamy was when I walked out my front door that first time.
She sighs as she pops her hip against the counter, leaning over to read the list I started before she tsks and looks back up to me.
“Bit dramatic don’t you think,” she asks, floating around the island beside me. I’m just staring at her, through her?
“The name’s Matilda and I’m going to help you win her over, pup. Because,” she flicks a thumb towards the paper on the counter, “that’s going to definitely help you get to this side of the veil and not into her good graces.”
“Rigggght…but why are you in my kitchen?”
“Well, as I said, I’m Matilda March, supernatural matchmaker to the cursed, the damned, and…the emotionally hopeless,” she says with a hook of her eyebrow. Her eyes scan down me as if she can read all the thoughts running through my mind. “And you, pup, are in luck.”
She flicks her ghost ashes into my sink like she owns the place and that it isn’t strange a ghost is smoking a cigarette on one of those weird stick things.
“I’ve brought together banshees and necromancers, vampires and vegans, even a selkie with a fire elemental—briefly.
Sure, sometimes they implode spectacularly, but every heartbreak is just a lesson in what not to do. ”
“Uh…”
“Case in point, Timeotheo Bellini. We all call him Tim, but don’t let him hear you call him that.
He was a sweet man with good posture who loved karaoke.
I thought I was a genius when I set him up with the haunted librarian.
Unfortunately, she was cursed to turn into fog at midnight.
How was I supposed to know that? Do you know how hard it is to kiss fog?
He leaned in to plant their first kiss and she poofed into fog.
Next thing he knew, he was headless. Tragic really.
Now he rides a bright yellow Vespa around town blasting disco music and haunting everyone’s earbuds with ‘Stayin’ Alive’. ”
“You…you set him up with a woman who turned into fog?”
“Lesson learned darling,” she says, as if that explains anything. “Oh, and avoid dating cursed mirrors. Or gorgons. Or anyone whose family crest involves a skull on fire. Trust me.”
“I don’t even know that I’ve ever come across a cursed mirror. Let alone a gorgin? Gorgon? Who has a family crest on fire?”
She just blinks slowly at me like I’m possibly the biggest idiot she’s ever come across.
She starts pacing, ticking off her disasters on translucent fingers.
“There was the witch and the were-rooster…don’t ask.
The elf who tried to court a kraken…that was a tsunami of a disaster.
And then there was the poltergeist who fell in love with a demon accountant. ”
“I didn’t even know there was a demon accountant. What is a were-rooster?” I mumble under my breath, and she just continues as if I didn’t say a word.
“Never mix poltergeist energy with anyone who does taxes for fun. I barely survived.”
“You barely survived? You’re already dead.”
“Exactly, which makes it all the more impressive.” She leans in like she’s letting me in on the secret of the universe. “And now, I’m going to help you win over Bellamy Grimsbane, whether she likes it or not.”
“What if she really doesn’t like me?”
She waves me off. “Don’t be so dramatic. She’s a tactile creature, I can tell. It’s something I can feel in my bones.”
“You don’t have any bones…”
“Hush!” She snaps her ghostly hand at me. “She clearly loves warm hugs, a firm back pat. Bellamy’s love language is definitely affection. All you have to do is get close enough.”
Milo snarls in my head, “If you touch her, we are both going in the ground before our arms even finish wrapping around her.”
“No offense,” I say slowly, “but your track record…”
“Is exquisite,” she interrupts, puffing on her cigarette. “Now, what’s your budget for wooing? Is getting her a goat on the table?”
“A goat?”
“It worked once. Well…kind of. Technically, it summoned a swarm of vampire bats, but the couple was big into Halloween, so it was definitely a win.”
I pull my phone out, hovering it below the countertop, hoping she won’t see what I’m doing. I type into the search bar “How do I banish a ghost from my house.”
Before I know what’s happening, she pops up behind me, looking over my shoulder, eyeing what I’ve typed into the search bar.
“It won’t work. Ask Tim. He once tried smearing the blood of a cow across his door based on some website he found. The only thing he accomplished was me sitting on his couch, laughing as the vampire bats chased after him and the bucket of blood. It was quite hilarious. Truly.”
She claps her hands together, which is weird because I can see it happen but there isn’t a sound to it. Which makes sense, I think. Honestly, I have no idea what is happening here, and I’m slightly panicking. Who am I kidding? I’m spiraling, and I don’t have a single person to ask.
She floats back over to the other side of the counter, giving me space to think. I mean, she is still rambling on, but I can’t hear it over the entire monologue running through my mind right now. Pulling my phone back up, I type in the search bar “Can ghosts harm a living person?”
I’m busy reading an article about all the things a ghost can and cannot do when I hear her clear her throat.
Looking up from my phone, I immediately regret not giving her my full attention.
Her cigarette is relit, and she seems to glow an odd shade of red?
Is that even possible? I’ll mark that down as something to ask later.
Possibly when she isn’t hovering in front of me.
“Have you even been paying attention this whole time?”
“I’m terrified to admit that I’ve been reading an article instead of listening.”
She pops her hip and glares at me. All she’s missing is a pair of glasses to peer through.
I click off my phone and slowly lay it down on the counter. Clearly that is exactly what she was looking for because she gives me a curt nod before she begins floating back and forth again.
“So, Operation Hug-A-Witch. I hopefully don’t need to explain how to hug someone or maybe the lead up to a hug.”
“So…your advice is that I should just…hug her.”
Matilda is beaming as if I just aced a test that she’s been tutoring me on.
“Exactly! A warm hug and a gentle back pat is exactly what a woman like Bellamy is looking for. She needs to see you as a safe space and a comfort at the end of her day. A woman loves a man who’s confident in his masculinity and knows how to show affection. ”
Milo sighs. “We are going to die. We are literally going to die. I’m not ready to reincarnate as another wolf. Actually…maybe I’ll get a better one next time.”
“Rude. You said the same thing about the Trouble Latte, and guess what? She drank it and didn’t kill us.” I point at nothing in particular.
“I think you forget she is the one who hexed it to begin with.”
“Semantics.”
Matilda floats closer now, her expression all intrigue and confidence. “Trust me, sugar. A good hug can melt even the iciest hearts.”
“Don’t come to me when she hexes your arms to your sides.” Milo laughs.
“Right…” I glance down at the paper on the counter. The list that I was making before the matchmaking ghost dropped in like an unwanted auntie on a Sunday afternoon.
My ideas from earlier sit there as still possibilities I’ll consider, but I grab the pen and in bold letters add HUG. It’s right below the coffee, ghost cupcakes, mug, and fox treats.
Matilda squeals and claps her hands again. She even added in a “good boy” like I’ve made a fire with my two hands and she wants to give me a head pat.
“Perfect, now we are on to something. You hug her, you own the moment, she falls a lit bit in love with you—”
“She hexes you into a newt. I laugh,” Milo interjects.
“—and you’re on your way to happily ever after.”
I slide down onto the bar stool, trying to picture it. Hugging Bellamy. I’ve not even made it to touching her, and now Matilda wants me to wrap my arms around her. I want to feel her delicate body pressed against mine, feel her relax. Maybe she even…smiles.
Milo is sighing.
My heart is racing.
I can practically picture it. We are at the Samhain festival, and she’s talking with some kids as they show her all the items they found on their scavenger hunt.
I come up behind her, wrap my arms around her, and she giggles softly as she molds against my body.
I’m buzzing with excitement on experiencing the differences between their festival and our own back home in Jasper.
I can imagine there will be some similarities, but with magic actively used here, I bet there’s going to be big differences.
Samhain is a beautiful time of the year as we celebrate our loved ones who have passed beyond the veil. It’s always been said that on the eve of November 1st the veil between the living and the dead would be at its thinnest, allowing families to see their lost loves once again.
“Please, for the love of all things cheesy and yummy, stop broadcasting your feelings and fantasies. You know she can sense it, right? Like she might not know what it means, she is still getting all the messages.” Milo groans.
“It’s fine. She won’t know what is happening. So let me live in my montage for a little longer.”
“You’re delusional.”
Matilda is leaning on her elbow, watching me as I live in my fantasy.
“No, I’m optimistic,” I say out loud. “This is going to work.”
Milo makes a sound somewhere between a howl and a groan. Matilda is beaming from ear to ear as she gives an excited squeal. Grabbing my paper, I hop off the barstool ready to grab life by the horns or broomsticks. You know, whichever analogy works for you.
She floats towards the front door. “Let me know how it goes,” she says with a wink. “And if you need me to officiate the wedding, I do themed weddings for an extra fee.”
I take a deep breath, grab my jacket, and look in the mirror.
“It’s just a hug,” I tell myself. “Humans hug. Witches hug. Hugs are a good thing. We’ve got this. She will see what it feels like to have her mate wrapped around her.”
“Hugs are going to be the last you do,” Milo grumbles.
“Semantics,” I repeat, heading out the door to find Bellamy.