Spirit Chaser

Chapter 2-1

CHAPTER TWO

I felt like I had been hit with a wrecking ball. I just stood there on the threshold, my screen door resting against my shoulder, unable to comprehend what was going on. The baby’s incessant crying didn’t help.

Marlese…baby…grandfather…

Was I a grandfather now? I was forty-seven years old. Marlese was twenty-five, a little older than I was when she was born. It didn’t seem real.

Weren’t you supposed to be happy when you found out you were a grandparent? If I’m honest, I wasn’t happy and I wasn’t sad. I was confused.

Would I be able to change a diaper? Was the house baby-proof? What about Hazel? Would she get along with the baby? My mind was all over the place.

Bo’s shiny bald head distracted me from my thoughts. He knelt, making silly faces. The baby wasn’t crazy about him and cried louder.

“Who are you?” she asked. Marlese didn’t mince words. You always knew how she was feeling, and she was feeling some kind of way about Bo—I chalked it up to his enormous height, bouncer-esque body, ugly grin, and his usual stench of Polo cologne and rotting flesh. Marlese twisted up her nose at the sight of him. Bo had that effect on people—the second impression usually went much better.

“He’s a friend,” I said quickly. “He’s staying with me for a while.”

Marlese’s gaze wandered over to me. I’m a private person, and my daughter knew that there was no way in hell I’d let a stranger live with me. She was going to have a hundred questions.

I opened the screen door wider and gestured for her to enter.

“You changed the locks,” Marlese said, grabbing the carrier and squeezing past me.

“Long story,” I said.

Hazel sniffed at the carrier and I told her to stand down.

“New roommate, new dog,” Marlese said. She set down the duffel bag and rubbed her arm. Her fingers glanced over a tattoo of a name followed by a star: Marcus. My son.

She glanced around the hallway. “What else is new?”

“I should be asking you that,” I said.

“I just need a place to stay for a few days,” she said.

Awkward silence grew between us. I didn’t know what to say and she didn’t either. Looking for a distraction, she bent down and unlatched the baby from the carrier, hauled him into the kitchen, and said, “Jeez, Daddy, are you having company?”

Hazel trotted behind, sniffing her curiously.

Bo whispered to me, “Not good timing, boss man. Maybe you should call off the reunion. It might scare the baby.”

“I don’t know,” I said.

Marlese knew I was a necromancer. It was the reason she ran away from home and, until today, never wanted to speak to me again. I didn’t know how she would react to me summoning the family spirits, but it was my house. And she was supposed to be the estranged one.

I glanced at the street again. There weren’t any cars.

I shut the door and secured the lock, drowning my corridor in muted afternoon light. What a hell of a day: a family reunion in the works, a deal with a lich, my daughter showing up after seven years with a baby, my undead servant freaking her out, my dog in seventh heaven with new people in the house, my kitchen smelling like Thanksgiving, and, in the corner of my eye, CeCe, leaning on the radiator in the living room, watching me.

“Want some tea?” I called to Marlese, keeping an eye on CeCe.

“Sure,” Marlese said. The baby had stopped crying now. The smell of food must have calmed him.

I glanced at CeCe. “Give me a few minutes,” I said.

“This can’t wait,” she said, shaking her head. “Les—”

I told her to wait and slipped into the kitchen.