A Ghoulish Midlife (Witching After Forty #1) - Lia Davis Page 0,17

might not be a person.”

Glancing toward the bookshelves, Olivia tapped her fingers on the glass countertop then checked her watch. “I need to go. It’s my turn to bake cupcakes for the kids today. We should do lunch tomorrow.”

I had a feeling that if I didn’t have lunch with her, she wouldn’t leave me alone. Then again, if I did, it was possible she still wouldn’t leave me alone. It was really a lose-lose situation. “Fine. Call me in the morning.”

I didn’t need to give her my number. She could get it from Sam’s phone.

She let out a small squeal and clapped her hands. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

Before I could tell her not too early, she was gone.

Great. If she called my phone before the sun fully rose, I would seriously reconsider my no cursing people policy.

The rest of the day was pretty steady and smooth. Customers came and went, many taking the time to chat about anything and anyone. Apparently, the hair salon wasn’t the only place where the grapevine started. In my case it ended because I wasn’t about to repeat half of what was said. Most of it was ludicrous anyway.

Thankfully, I didn’t recognize any more of my customers. And since they didn’t seem to recognize me, I didn’t offer up any personal information. The fewer people who knew I was here the better. I wasn’t staying.

While the store was empty, I took the opportunity to take out a small bag of trash. Clint had mentioned the dumpster behind the building, and I remembered the layout from my high school days. In a town this small, there wasn’t much to do but walk around—everywhere. Repeatedly.

The store wasn’t huge, yet it wasn’t tiny either. The front of the store was an open space with small round tables with comfy armchairs around them. There was a coffee station in the left-hand corner by the front door. The counter with the register was on the other side. Soft indie music drifted from the speakers mounted in the corners near the ceiling.

I breathed in the scents of coffee and books. This was my happy place. I couldn’t have picked a better place to work if I’d tried. I’d have to turn one of the rooms in my home in Philly into a coffee bar/library.

With the bag of trash in hand, I moved down one of the many aisles of books to the back of the store. As I passed the office, I stuck my head in and smiled at Clint. “I’m taking the trash out. Do you have any I can take?”

He looked up from his computer and smiled back. “Nope, mine’s not full yet.”

“Great.” I pushed out the back door and instantly felt magic in the air. Pausing outside the door, I scanned the area behind the strip mall. I didn’t see anything, but there was no denying that someone was there. Or had been there recently. Then a scent I’d never encountered but heard of hit me. A mixture of soil, rosemary, cedar, and a hint of sulfur. Those were a few of the ingredients to create a ghoul. Oh, no.

Surely there wasn’t a ghoul in Shipton. That would mean a necromancer lived here. As far as I knew I was the only one. Since I didn’t use my dark powers, ever, there shouldn’t have been a ghoul around.

Shaking off what had to be my overactive imagination, I slung the bag of trash up into the dumpster shared by the bookstore, bakery, and hair salon. As I turned back toward the building, I saw it. Rather, I saw him.

There was someone lying behind the dumpster.

Without giving it a second thought, I grabbed onto my powers and probed him. Those powers. The ones I tried so hard to pretend weren’t there. But I had to know. I had to check and see if the man was alive.

Damn it all to Hell. He most definitely wasn’t alive. In fact, he was so dead there was nothing there for me to grab hold of whatsoever. If I’d practiced necromancy, been in touch with my powers, and if I hadn’t locked them away years ago, I still wouldn’t have been able to sense any life in this man. He’d been gone that long and his soul had already moved on.

Only recent deaths still had enough life essence for a necromancer to tap into. Since I couldn’t sense him at all, I guessed that he’d been dead for at least twelve hours.

I didn’t