Boundary Born (Boundary Magic Book 3) - Melissa F. Olson Page 0,9

poisoning, and Quinn had a company credit card. I managed to swallow the laughter. “Yes, ma’am,” I said instead.

“In the meantime, I’ll get the word out. No vampire in Colorado drinks from a human they’ve used before.” She cut her eyes at Quinn, and then looked back at me. Oh, yeah, she knew we were dating.

Quinn just nodded. I bit my lip. There were going to be a lot of vampires out hunting that night.

Chapter 4

Nellie’s former brothel had once been a lovely Victorian house in downtown Denver, on the edge of what became the red-light district in the nineteenth century. But after Nellie died and the brothel shut down, every attempt to open a new business there or renovate the building back into a home had failed. There were too many strange noises, creepy sightings, and cold spots, all of which had earned it a prominent spot on all the “Haunted Denver” lists.

Decades had passed since the last failed attempt to transform the building, but the city had developed around the ancient eyesore, and it was now only a couple of blocks away from Coors Field, sandwiched stubbornly between a trendy club and a sports bar.

All of my previous visits had been during the day, when the area was deserted, but this time I had to slip down the alley between the club and the brothel, avoiding stumbling twenty-somethings with high heels and blowout hair. I made an effort not to wrinkle my nose as I squeezed past two girls vomiting against the club building. When I was twenty-four, I was driving Humvees through the desert at night, not puking in stilettos.

I hadn’t bothered to replace the lock I’d broken on the brothel door—with nothing to steal and Nellie’s creepy presence, no one came in here—so I just pushed the door open and fished a camping lantern out of my bag, keeping it away from the boarded-up windows. The strong white light only seemed to make the shadows longer, putting an unnerving emphasis on the grime and spider webs. I swallowed and ordered myself not to get creeped out.

Then, inches from my ear, a female voice exploded. “Finally!”

I jumped, whirling around to see Nellie Evans right behind me.

The last time I’d seen her, Nellie had looked bright and vivid, even though it was the middle of the day. But I’d later learned that her strong presence was a side effect of Morgan Pellar’s spell to boost the area ley lines. This time, there was no mistaking Nellie for anything but ghost. She was slightly faded, and there was a wrinkle of concentration on her forehead, as if it took just a little effort to keep herself visible, the same way I’d need a little effort to stand on my tiptoes.

If she hadn’t been a boundary witch in life, Nellie’s ghost would just be a repeating fragment of herself, an afterimage. But Nellie’s connection to death kept her sentient. And her personality was very much intact, for better or worse.

“Where have ye been?” she demanded, pouting at me. “I thought you’d ’a been back months ago, and me sitting around waiting every day like a damned fool girl with a beau . . .” Her footsteps made no noise on the hardwood floors as she stomped back and forth, shouting at me. The tantrum was a little funny, given her appearance. Nellie was dressed as I’d seen her last: in short-shorts, a polka-dotted tied-off top, and chunky high heels like a thirties pinup girl. She had obviously been pretty once, but she’d lived hard, and it still showed in death. She appeared to be in her midforties, although she’d probably died younger than that.

I waited until Nellie’s ranting wore itself out. When she devolved to mumbling under her breath, I said, “Hi, Nellie, how have you been? I see your TV’s still working.” I nodded toward the television I’d set up in the main entryway.

She glared at me. “Aye, yes, the television. It does work, but it’s been stuck on the same damned channel since you plugged it in! Have you heard of these things, re-runs?” She pronounced it carefully, like she was trying to speak Chinese. “They show the same programs over and over! And the children’s shows, argh!” She stomped a silent foot and began to pace again, then slowed and tilted her head to reconsider. “Although that red childish monster, he gives me a good laugh,” she allowed. “And the wee monkey who’s always creating messes, he