Gypsy Magic - J.R. Rain Page 0,15

Schwarzenegger or Elmo.”

I think he expected me to laugh, but I couldn’t. It was just… he was in danger, but he obviously didn’t realize it. Spirits could be violent and destructive forces. They could possess people and wreak havoc with your health. Ghosts weren’t just cold spots, creaking floorboards, and fodder for scary stories. They were serious and they needed to be regarded as such.

I stood up a little straighter as a thought filtered in. Maybe I could help him. “Have you ever tried a banishment potion?” I asked, popping another beer nut into my mouth, rolling it around so the spicy mustard made every part of my tongue tingle. God, these were good.

“Banishment potion?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

“Potions are one of the easiest and most effective ways of getting rid of troublesome ghosts.” That was true, although the last ghost I’d dealt with, the one traumatizing Finn, had required four banishment potions mixed together, numerous candles and a hell of a lot of willpower on my part. Yes, the spirit had been that strong. But that spirit had been the exception, not the rule.

Marty’s expression was quizzical, but not unfriendly. Soft confusion shaved years off his appearance, so he looked like he was in his mid-thirties. Possibly even younger.

“Those really work?”

“They have for me.” I cleared my throat. “I’ve dealt with quite a few ghosts in my time, some were even poltergeists, and I used banishment potions on each one.”

He smiled then, grin bright and infectious, and I found myself smiling back, despite the worry that curled in my gut.

“I’d love to try a banishment potion,” he said as an idea birthed itself across his expression. “How about I help you set up your shop and we can talk about coming up with some marketing materials and you help me out with some potions?”

“Sure,” I smiled and nodded, thinking I could definitely use the help. I wasn’t exactly handy, and the shelves weren’t going to put themselves up.

Chapter Five

I was sitting in my bed, looking at the moonlight streaming in through the window. It was calming, beautiful even. Finn was sitting next to me, playing his Gameboy. Yes, he had his own bed, but he’d asked if he could spend the first night in our new house with me and I wasn’t about to argue. Not after everything he’d been through at the old house.

But, this wasn’t going to become a habit. Tomorrow I would cleanse the house with Purification Oil, which was a blend of Frankincense, Myrrh and Sandalwood. When placed in a diffuser, it dispelled negativity and bad energy. It was perfect as a cleansing recipe for a new space when you weren’t sure what sort of energy you might be dealing with. After I cleansed the house, I’d burn a purple candle anointed with Magus Oil, which would provide protection and power against any influences that might mean to do us harm.

But, for now, I took a deep breath and faced my phone, and more particularly, Match.com. Yes, my mother had finally talked me into setting up my profile. It had only taken another hour-long phone call, but I’d finally given in. Mostly because I didn’t want to suffer through any more conversations about it.

Match.com served up the local available bachelors and...

I was a little stunned. Haven Hollow was about the size of a postage stamp. A proverbial spec on the map of Oregon. And yet, the first several profiles weren’t unimpressive…

Lorcan Rowe, age forty-one, had movie-star good looks. Handsome, chiseled face. The strong, Roman nose might have been considered hawkish by some, but it balanced with the rest of his face. His eyes were a green so deep, a girl could drown if she wasn’t careful. Apparently, he was the dentist Marty had told me about. Hmm…

Roy Osbourne, forty-six, had missed his calling as the Brawny Paper Towel man. Broad-shouldered, short, thick brown hair, and stubble… ahem, really sexy stubble. He had a dark tan, which made his gray eyes stand out all the more. Marty had mentioned him too... The Bar and Grill owner.

And then there was...

McFly.

I couldn’t help my smile as a picture of Marty grinned up at me in that boyish way of his. His hair was shorter than it was today—more of a buzz cut, really, but otherwise, he looked exactly the same. His username was ‘MartyPix’ and it listed him as being forty-six. There were three other pictures of him—one where it looked like he was camping, maybe.