Chapter 4 #2
Aunt Liz leaned forward and narrowed her eyes like she could pry the secrets from my mind. A few months ago, I might have wilted at that stare. Now? Not so much.
“That’s great news,” Dayna said, side-eyeing her sister and aunt.
“It is,” I agreed. “And while weakening her might give us the upper hand, we need to be ready to move the moment we know we can.”
“What are you thinking?” Sophia asked as she resumed her crochet. What was she making? Something small and pink?
“How much do we know about the Roberts’ curse?”
“The standard, where it started and what our mother did to alter it,” Liz answered.
“I want you to pull apart the curse to its bare bones. I want to know the intricate details from the origin to the latest version. Leave no stone unturned.”
Dayna tilted her head. “What are you planning, Cora?”
My lips twitched. “Simple. Eloise wants to tangle with a god? She wants to use and control him? Then let’s make sure that curse bites her in the ass.”
“She won’t see it coming,” Liz mumbled.
“Narcissists never do. But she’s your mother and your sister, and if you need to step aside to allow me to get this done, I’d understand.”
Sophia jabbed her crochet hook in my direction, and her brow furrowed.
Okay, so maybe a Roberts’ hard-ass stare could still chastize me after all.
“You listen here. My sister,” she spat the last word like it was dirty, “forfeited the right to any protection from us. She may be blood, but she broke that bond when she ordered your torture and stood by while it happened.”
“Agreed,” Dayna said with a firm nod.
“We all agree, Cora. We’ll do this together, no matter who holds the blade,” Liz agreed.
My heart warmed, and the cracks they had created tightened.
“Then let’s take her down.” Maybe when this was over, I could find my peace with the man I fell for, heal the wounds that had festered over the years, and let go of the betrayal burning in my soul.
But first, we needed to survive an apocalypse.
Harry darted through the wall and pointed to the ceiling. “Miss Roberts.” Please don’t say pineapples, please don’t say pineapples… “Pineapples.”
My aunts blinked.
I groaned and tipped my head back. “Number?”
“Half, maybe three quarters.”
That wasn’t so bad. I stood and followed Harry up the stairs to the main floor.
Not much phased me these days, but this was a new experience.
At least fifteen ghosts had formed a line, their hands hovering on the waist of the ghost in front of them.
They performed a shuffle, followed by a badly synchronized leg kick.
“You have them doing the conga?” While weird, I didn’t understand the need for a pineapple.
The front door opened, and Dangerous Dave, chief enforcer and biggest supernatural snoop in existence, strode through. He took one look at the ghostly procession and raised an eyebrow at me. “It’s concerning that I am less surprised by this than walking into a normal household.”
My shoulder lifted. “Life is too short for normal.” I pointed at Harry. “Where is the pineapple issue?”
He wove around the line of deceased dancers and into the dining room. I stalked after him and froze.
Dave snorted behind me. “Where do you draw the line at weird?”
Rebecca appeared at my side and wrinkled her nose. “That is not attractive.”
I grimaced at the naked pale butt of a man tensing while fornicating with an equally naked woman on my dining table. Wait. Ghosts have sex?
I snapped my fingers. “No carnal relations on my furniture. Put it away or get out.”
They ignored me.
“I hear sex is acceptable on the lawn,” Rebecca mused.
“Only on a full moon,” Dave added.
“I’m almost there,” the guy growled.
“Don’t let us stop you,” Rebecca added.
“Put some effort in, everyone,” Harry shouted.
What? Oh, the conga line.
“Yes, yes, just there,” she moaned from beneath him.
“Seriously?” I grumbled. “You’d think they’d stop faking it in the afterlife.”
“Yeah, baby, you like that?”
No, I did not, and neither did she. How sad that she was stroking his fragile male ego.
“Yes, yes, yes.”
Sally, eat your heart out.
He jerked his hips a final time and groaned.
“How does that even work?” Rebecca asked as she cocked her head. “Surely he needs a beating heart?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed.
Maggie, with impeccable timing, hurried into the room with a tray of steaming snacks. “I made onion tartlets and mushroom bonbons.”
I inhaled and did my best not to roll my eyes to the ceiling. Not the mushrooms. Only my teenage bobcat shifter would think rustling up some snacks for ghosts was a good decision.
“Maggie, they can’t eat,” I muttered.
She blinked. “They aren’t for them. They’re for us while we enjoy the show.”
Rebecca snorted. The naked ghost guy climbed to his feet and gave us a shit-eating grin. “I’ve been wanting to do that for decades.”
“Dude, can you show me?” another ghost asked him as they did a weird high five.
“I repeat: no carnal relations on my furniture—alive or otherwise,” I snapped. This time, I gave in and glared upward. A little help, Grandfather?
Silence.
I glanced at my feet. Uncle?
A rumble of laughter echoed, accompanied by the smell of ashes.
I cracked my knuckles. Fine, I guess I was on my own.
Cora Roberts—Supernatural Orgy Breakup Officer. Benefits Package: none.