the stories, the soul doesn’t take over the Keeper’s personality like in a horror movie. Supposedly, it’s peaceful. The Keeper might not even be aware that someone hitched a ride. The soul hides in a Keeper when it needs a safe haven.”
“So, you’re still you even if you’re toting around a few extra people?” I asked with a giggle.
“According to my great-granny, yes,” she answered, grinning. “No spinning heads or creepy-man voices. Honestly, I wish it was true. I think it would be incredibly cool.”
I was so tempted to say beware of what you wish for, but kept my lip zipped.
“Oh, but there’s more. When it’s safe for the soul to move on, the Soul Keeper is supposed to find a Death Counselor.”
I almost puked. Missy’s great-granny knew a whole lot of things she shouldn’t have known as a human.
“You okay?” Missy asked, touching my forehead. “You just went some serious pale, my friend.”
“Fine. I’m fine,” I said, plastering a smile on my mouth and hoping it didn’t look like I was constipated. “So, umm… Soul Keepers are supposed to find a what?”
“A Death Counselor. Can you believe that shit? I should write a book and sell it in my shop. I’ll call it The Keeper and the Counselor Bustin’ a Move on the Soul Train. Maybe Great-Granny was insane—or maybe I am for sort of believing it.” Missy shook her head and stood up.
“I would have liked to have known your great-granny.”
“She would have loved you,” Missy said. “I’m just so happy I knew Gram. I feel the same way Jennifer does—like Gram was mine, too.”
“Tim, I really don’t think it’s necessary to share that,” Heather grumbled as the trio came back in the house.
“They’re her dogs,” Tim insisted. “She’ll want to know. I would want to know.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Heather asked with sarcasm dripping from each word.
“Congratulations. Donna pooped a damn mountain,” Candy Vargo announced as she, Heather and Tim walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table.
“Karen’s movement was quite impressive as well,” Tim pointed out. “However, none of it was cubed.”
“Remind me to stop spending time with you two,” Heather said, smiling at Missy then narrowing her eyes at Tim and Candy. “You’re both disgusting.”
“Fecal matter is natural,” Tim pointed out. “Nothing to be squeamish about.”
“Awesome,” I said, pushing his cookies toward him. “You can save that conversation for your dinner with Jennifer and Dip Doody. I’m sure it will be far more appreciated than it is right now.”
“Of course,” Tim said. “How did I do today?”
Missy giggled and gave him a thumbs up. “I’d say a B- with some extra credit points for beating Jennifer at her own game.”
Tim clasped his hands together in delight and gave Missy a jaunty nod of thanks. “I shall aspire to an A, but I happily accept your assessment of my progress.”
“I think I got a C,” Candy Vargo said, glancing around for Gram then pulling out a toothpick when she realized the coast was clear.
“You’re gonna drop to an F if you put that in your mouth,” I warned.
“Well, shit,” Candy griped, pocketing her toothpick. “All of you people suck.”
With that lovely parting shot, Candy grabbed a container of cookies and left.
“She needs some more work,” I muttered, handing Heather and Missy their cookies. “A lot of it.”
“I concur,” Tim said, standing up to take his leave. “Am I supposed to offer to help now?”
Biting down on my lip because I knew he was quite serious, I shook my head. “Nope. But the offer is always appreciated.”
“I shall put it in my notes,” Tim announced.
“You do that,” I replied.
“We’re out unless you need anything,” Heather said, holding Missy’s hand.
I smiled. “I’m good.”
“Me too,” Missy said, glancing over at me and winking. “Today was awesome.”
As they left, Heather silently mouthed that she would call me later. Tim was the last to leave.
“Missy is not normal,” he said as we watched them drive away.
“Define normal,” I said, taking the contacts out of my aching eyes and putting them in a glass on the counter.
“She’s not Immortal, but there is something unusual about her.”
“Is she in danger?” I asked, remembering Birdie’s warning.
“Isn’t everyone?” Tim answered.
“Are you joking or being cryptic?” I demanded.
Tim stood silent for a long moment and considered his answer. “Sadly, neither.”
Not the answer I wanted to hear.
However, forewarned was forearmed.
Chapter Ten
“This isn’t going well,” I said, twisting my hair in my fingers and groaning.
The Ouija board was not my friend this evening.
So far, I’d