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  I don’t know why I trusted Jeremiah more than Thomas, but I did.

  I hadn’t been to the beach for quite a while. Even though the Florida Keys are more rocks than beach, the Marriott had a small beach out front. I convinced Jeremiah to accompany me down to the water while we waited for Benjamin and Thomas.

  It was dark, but for the bright moon. The waters were shadowy like black silk. “Is that what it looks like in the underworld?” I asked, remembering when Jeremiah said the waters looked inky.

  “A little bit, yes,” he said. “I can see why she likes it here on the island.”

  “She’s here only because she was exiled here—like a prisoner.”

  Oh I knew that voice!

  Jeremiah and I both turned to see the immortal being standing behind us on the beach. He was in perfect beachwear whether he planned it or not. He still wore linen pants and a thin, light blue, button-down shirt. He could have been on the cover of a magazine in that get-up. The sea breeze made his golden hair whip all around him.

  “You,” Jeremiah said.

  And there it was—confirmed for me. This was one of the immortal beings that was somewhat responsible for the creation of vampires. It wasn’t his fault. Though, I’m sure if I asked Jeremiah, he’d have another perspective entirely.

  “What are you doing here?” Jeremiah asked.

  “I am always around as I have been for, well, a long time. I’ve been waiting for her, just as you have been searching for her. Only, I was more successful, it seems.”

  I could feel the anger and tension rising from Jeremiah. It was strange to witness his transformation, as he always seemed so cool and collected.

  “Her sentence is almost up and I will return her to the underworld. She will claim the throne that is rightfully hers.”

  “As if she would want such a fate.”

  “They need her,” Jeremiah said.

  “You mean the same demons that now hunt her down? Admit it, you need her. She rejected you and yet you still chase her after all these years. What makes you think the outcome will be any different this time around? She will be filled with resentment toward you demons.”

  “Leave now, you have no business here,” Jeremiah said through clenched teeth.

  “I have nothing to lose,” the man said.

  “Except for her.”

  And then he was gone. “Whoa,” I said. “That was intense.”

  “This complicates things.”

  “Does that guy have a name?”

  “Never got it,” Jeremiah said, looking like he’d rip someone’s head off if he had the chance.

  I put my arms around his shoulders and squeezed encouragingly. Did demons even understand the sentiment of a hug? “Sorry,” I said, immediately feeling silly and embarrassed.

  “No,” he said. “Thank you. You’ve been a good friend to me.”

  I smiled, pleased that I’d made some small difference in his life—even if it was only loyalty.

  “This woman you have tracked down—it must be her, or he wouldn’t be here.”

  “You know he can read my mind?” I said.

  “How do you know that?”

  “He, uh, dropped in on me the other day. I didn’t know who or what he was, at the time, or I would have mentioned it to you.” That was kind of a lie. I had suspicions, once Jeremiah told us about the would-be queen.

  Jeremiah started walking up the beach and back to the hotel as I followed close behind. “It must be a vampire thing,” he mused. “He can’t do that with demons.”

  Well, that was good… I think.

  We made it back to the hotel room just before Benjamin and Thomas returned with many bags full of supplies. I took public-appropriate pajamas from my overnight bag and changed. The pants were Christmas-themed and I didn’t care that it was practically summer. I wore a college t-shirt and crawled into bed. Sadly, the bed was not as luxurious as the ones in Benjamin’s home. The man really liked to splurge on bed sheets.

  The tarps were easy enough to put up. I didn’t even offer to help because I was so mentally exhausted. Benjamin did a good job on his own. He covered the window with seven layers of tarp and then surrounded the whole thing in four layers of duct tape. He was not kidding around, that’s for sure.

  When he joined me in the bed—I cuddled up close to him. I didn’t care that there were several more hours left before the sun rose. I turned the TV on to “I Love Lucy” reruns and planned on lying in bed until I passed out.

  “I’m so tired—figuratively, I guess. I don’t feel all that physically exhausted, but you know what I mean?”

  “Well,” Benjamin said, pulling me closer to him. I smelled his citrus-spice scent and took a big whiff, enjoying the sensation. “You fought for our lives yesterday. I think you deserve a little R and R.”

  “That’s right—I do deserve to be lazy for at least a few more hours. Tomorrow, I’ll be back to my vivacious self.”

  After a while, I told him about the visit from the immortal being. “What if she doesn’t want to go back to the underworld, and kill the king, and reign for a million years, and all that?” I asked.

  “They might keep trying to kill her anyway,” he said.

  “But maybe the immortal being can keep her safe and off their radar. What if he is the best thing for her?”

  “I think it best we don’t get involved in that. Right now, we focus only on stopping the demon invasion. And that’s finding her. I’ve been working with Jeremiah for a long time. I trust his judgment.”

  “But what if his attachment to her—his feelings for her, have clouded his judgment?”

  “Time will tell,” Benjamin said.

  I thought about telling Benjamin about my walking in a sunny room and not burning up—right away at least, but I knew it would entail a long conversation; and I didn’t have the stamina for it at the time.

  That discussion would have to wait for another night.

  Sixteen: Domino

  I’m standing in the center of the second floor bedroom. The lights are dim, casting long shadows across the light blue walls. Fifteen excited tourists surround me on my ghost tour. Three nights a week, I lead the eager crowds though the old house and give them a glimpse of the dead. While they see furniture shift, vases rattle, and the occasional misty floating cloud, I can see the actual ghost. The dead don’t appear as solid-looking as the living though, more transparent, as if their opacity was tuned down.

  It’s not that the house we’re touring is special. There was no horrific fire, trapping souls within the walls until the end of time, or anything like that. The truth is, I can give a tour anywhere. Simply put, I don’t just see the dead; I can summon them as well. Of course, I lay on the dramatics for the crowd. “Would any spirits like to make themselves known?” I resist the urge to throw in an evil cackle. My spectators today are already on edge as we are nearing the end of the tour. The teeny, tiny hairs on the back of their necks are on end. Some are even holding their breaths. A little girl appears before me. I no longer feel the shock that I did when I was younger and first saw dead children. Not that I’ve become desensitized—the image just doesn’t torment me for days on end anymore. She’s a ghost that has visited me often.

  “Hi, Sarah,” I say, telepathically.

  “Hi Domino. Do you want me to scare them?” She looks up at me with her wispy gray skin and muted, blonde-white hair.

  I laugh because Sarah loves to scare the tourists, especially the grown-ups.

  “Sure, Sarah. Nothing too scary though, alright? Remember what we talked about?”

  “I know, I know,” she says. “Don’t touch ‘em.”

  “Right. Thank you, Sarah.” She smiles enthusiastically and makes the curtains billow wildly, though the windows are all closed.

  The lights flicker on and off. The yellow and white vase in the corner teeters back and forth with a loud, clanking sound.

  Some scream and others flash their cameras madly, in their attempts to captu
re the other world on record. After some time, the frenzy in the room dissipates only to rise in the form of impassioned chatter. “Did you see that?” one of the participants asks. “I think I felt it walk right through me!”

  “This concludes the Magnolia House tour. We thank you for and appreciate your participation.” I say, ushering the tourists out of the room and down the narrow stairs. When we reach the foyer, I try to speak over the noise. “Don’t forget, I also conduct séances and one-on-one medium channeling services. I can reconnect you with a loved one who has passed on.” I hand out a business card to each person as they leave the house. I almost don’t want to give my card to the man standing in the far corner. The way he’s looking at me is unsettling. He turns his face, as though realizing he’s been staring at me, and I see a long scar marring the left side of it. Somehow, the scar makes him more handsome. I turn away, not wanting to be rude. When the last person has exited, I lean against the door and let out a big puff of air.

  I sit down in the parlor, relaxing, enjoying a few moments of quiet before the next ghost appears. There’s a menacing knock at the door. Immediately, I’m sure one of the tourists has left something behind. A camera, perhaps? I don’t even look through the peephole, I just open the door with an exasperated look on my face.

  “Yes?” I say, probably sounding a little too rude. What stares down at me is startling, to say the least. The man on the other side of the threshold is unequivocally, the most breathtaking man I have ever seen. To say that he is the man of my dreams would not do him justice because I could never have even imagined someone could look this good. What do I do? Domino, the smoothest woman of them all? I shut the door in his face.

  I take two breaths, shaking my initial, stunned stupidity from my brain and open the door again.

  “Hello, may I help you?”

  His eyes appear to burn in intensity as if a light bulb located behind his impossibly green irises was switched on. “Well, it appears that someone’s parents didn’t teach her basic etiquette,” he says, dryly.

  “My parents abandoned me at birth, but thanks for reminding me.”

  His lips twitch, like he’s mildly amused by our repartee. “Then, neither of us has manners,” he says. “Why don’t we start over?”

  “Yes. How may I help you? The tour ended a few minutes ago.”

  “I’m not here for the tour.”

  “Okay.”

  “May I come in?”

  “I suppose.” I back away from the door, allowing him wide berth. “So, you’re here, because?” I’m tired and he makes me extremely nervous. If I’m lucky, too many ghosts won’t interrupt me tonight. They always come to me for me.

  “You communicate with the dead, correct? I want you to connect with someone for me.” The foyer suddenly seems too small for the assertiveness of his voice and the way he towers over me. I am an average five-foot, six, and this man has got to be at least half a foot taller than I, or at least, he appears that way. He slides his hands into the pockets of his drawstring pants. He’s wearing a crisp, white dress shirt that accentuates his golden skin. He looks bohemian and manly.

  I tear my eyes away from his muscular build and respond. “My office hours are ten a.m. to six p.m. I’d be happy to make an appointment for tomorrow, or another day?” I offer, helpfully.

  He looks me up and down, regarding me carefully. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, feeling uneasy.

  “I was thinking you could squeeze me into your schedule this evening.”

  “Unfortunately… Mister?”

  “You can call me, Adam.”

  “Adam, I don’t have a schedule to squeeze you into, because I don’t see people at this hour of the night.” He is completely unfazed, and frankly, I view it as disrespect for my precious time.

  “What if I pay you five times your rate?”

  “Five times?” Adam studies my face while I deliberate. It’s as if his eyes are taking a mental survey of me, circling my eyes, my nose, and then my lips.

  “Please?” he says, finally.

  “Well, since you said please,” I smile wryly, “you have just hired the services of Domino, Medium Extraordinaire… me,” I say, poking fun at myself.

  “That’s why I’m here. I hear you are the best.”

  “I’m also good at poker,” I say, winking. I walk over to the staircase and step up on my tiptoes. “Molly?” I yell, letting my voice carry up three floors. A door opens upstairs before Molly pokes her head over the railing.

  “Yes, dear? Everything all right?” Molly adopted me when I was an infant. She discovered me on her porch, which made perfect sense, since she comes from one of the wealthiest families on the island. She’s an old woman with a big heart. I would be lost without her these past twenty-four years.

  “I have a last-minute customer. Just letting you know.” My eyes say, “You know, in case this guy turns out to be a murderer.”

  “Very good, dear, I’m going out to my book club meeting in just a minute.”

  “Have fun, Molly.”

  “You too, dear,” Molly says, her eyebrows rising at the sight of my guest. I’m not the only one who thinks he looks like he just walked out of a GQ photo shoot.

  I turn back to my client. “Alright, that’s done. Follow me to my office, please.”

  “Certainly, Miss.”

  “Domino, is fine.”

  “Domino,” he says, trying out my name.

  Adam follows me into my office. I love it in here. I try to keep it looking practical, professional, and comfortable. Molly has a lot of antique furniture lying around the house. Over the years, I have taken the liberty of furnishing and refurnishing my small office space. The wood floors in the office are dark mahogany. The walls are almost entirely occupied by old bookshelves the same color as the floor. Most of the books are Molly’s, although I have a few rows of my own. The office sits at one corner of the house with two large windows, draped in heavy curtains, the color of bruised eggplant. I have a desk in one corner, but I rarely make use of it. Right now, it’s littered in papers and books I haven’t bothered to put away.

  There are only two options for sitting in the office. One of them is a Bergère, an old chair covered in mustard-yellow fabric. The second is a Chesterfield sofa, the same color. They almost don’t match, but they are comfortable and that’s what matters. I motion for Adam to take a seat on the sofa and I settle into my chair.

  “How may I help you?”

  “What information do you need in order to communicate with the deceased?” He leans forward, studying me with interest.

  “A name should be sufficient, along with the circumstances of their death. The location helps too.”

  He looks impressed. “Astounding.”

  His golden brown and blonde hair, falling down to his shoulders, is mesmerizing. He’s like some sort of beautiful, golden god. “Whom would you like to contact?” I ask.

  He leans back, resting his elbow on the armrest and cradling his face into his open palm. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he just wants company. This is all very strange. Why would he pay a lot of money just to sit here and talk to me?

  “Let’s just say I’m doing research, and I’d like to know more about what it is you do here.”

  “I don’t think so,” I say, standing up abruptly. “I think it best if you leave, Adam.”

  “I’ve offended you,” he says, also standing, his face full of concern.

  “The last time someone asked me about my process, or my work, it was a lawyer. Their client sued me for not channeling the right dead person. The case didn’t go anywhere, but it was a pain in my behind.”

  He smiles. If I said he was beautiful before, that image now pales in comparison to when he is smiling. Oh my, I know I will be dreaming about him for days to come.

  “I’m not a lawyer, Domino. I’m simply curious.”

  “I don’t know,” I say, heading for the door. “Seems strange to be so interested in what
I’m doing.”

  “I have a lot of time on my hands.”

  “It’s getting dark,” I say, a little spooked by this conversation with this painfully gorgeous man.

  I watch as he walks to the window and pulls the curtain back, nodding to himself. “It will be dark within the hour.”

  He turns around to look at me and I laugh, full of nerves. He smiles too, and for a moment, I catch a fleeting look on his face, like he’s trying to make a decision. At first, I think he might grab me, throw me over his shoulder, and run away.

  That would be crazy, though.

  “I’ll be seeing you again.”

  “Okay.” I guess.

  “Would you like to see me again?” he asks, though I feel as though he’s not giving me a choice.

  “Sure. Why not?” He doesn’t seem like a creep or anything. I don’t think.

  I show Adam out, locking the door behind him. Not even my many encounters with ghosts ever felt as weird as meeting Adam. I walk up the wooden stairs one flight and open my bedroom door. Sitting on my bed is a woman, a ghost, rather, crying.

  Man, the crying ghosts always take the most work.

  Seventeen

  The porch to the demon woman’s home was skillfully decorated with potted plans on all the corners and hanging on either side of the door. It was easy to find her as well.

  When Jeremiah woke up, he spoke to the front desk agent. “I’ve heard of a woman who communicates with the dead. Her name is Domino, I think.”

  “Oh yes, if we try, we can get you an appointment for tomorrow. She books up quickly, so it’s always good to call ahead.”

  “I think I’ll just drop by,” he told them. “Do you have her address?”

  The manager wrote the address down on a Post-it note for him and he waited until the late afternoon to go. Apparently, Domino also ran ghost tours out of her home. Quite the enterprising woman, if you asked me.

  “Domino,” Jeremiah said, “is Thana—I’m sure of it. I haven’t seen her in hundreds of years, but I would recognize her anywhere.”

  “She doesn’t know who she really is,” I pointed out. “Only makes sense that her name would be different.”