Spirit Caller 01 - Spirits Rising

just to see if they needed me. LeBlanc’s refusing to let me come back to work, since this is the first vacation I’ve taken in two years. They have this big ‘work-life balance,’ ” he used air quotes. “Some vacation. LeBlanc said the ‘gang members’ ”—he used air quotes again. Geez, when did he pick that up?—“took off once the fire trucks started putting out the fire.”
    I thought about that. “Oh, right. Water.”
    He gave me a quizzical look.
    “A bit of rain isn’t going to slow a spirit or a ghost down. But a lot of water can.” I considered that for a moment. “Chances are the rain weakened them somewhat. Add on hours of water from a high-pressure hose and very little could stay in flesh.”
    “But they’ll just come back again, right?”
    I sat down on a kitchen chair and yawned. I was exhausted. “Yeah. They’ll come back.”
    A heavy silence fell between us. I remembered the elder spirit’s words, and not just the part where she said she’d been wanting to meet me. I looked up at Jeremy. He was staring at his feet, his hands behind him, braced against the counter. Why was he still here? And how the hell was I supposed to banish the spirits? And how was I ever going to get over this arsehole when he kept hanging out at my house at all hours of the freaking night!
    “Rachel,” Jeremy said, breaking the silence, “what was that spirit talking about?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You know.”
    My chest constricted and I struggled to take a breath. One spectacular rejection during a crisis coming up. I shrugged a shoulder and remained quiet.
    He stared at me, his blue eyes steady. I felt my cheeks grow hotter, but I didn’t flinch.
    Be strong, Rachel. You can do it .
    “I didn’t realize you . . . thought of me like that.”
    “I don’t,” I lied. “I like you. You’re a good friend. I’m so happy you’re with Donna. She seems like a nice person. When she gets back, we should all go out for supper or something.”
    Dinner with Donna and Jeremy, the happy-go-lucky couple. And me, the third wheel who talked to spirits. I wanted to crawl under the carpet.
    Jeremy didn’t seem convinced. “You’re serious?”
    I nodded. My smile felt more like a muscle spasm than a confident grin.
    He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been feeling like a jerk all night. Jesus, I’ve asked you for relationship advice. If you liked me that way . . . ah shit. I’m sorry.”
    I mustered my courage, walked over to him, and put my hands on his face. I looked him in the eye and said, “I don’t want to sleep with you. I don’t want you and Donna to break up. I don’t cry myself to sleep thinking about you.” My voice cracked and I feigned a cough. “Spirits aren’t known for telling the truth. They are dead. They don’t have a good grasp on reality.”
    He stared at me for a few more seconds before a smile formed on his lips. His features relaxed and he nodded his head. “Good. Okay, good. I’ve been feeling like shit all night, worrying that I’ve been screwing you around by accident.”
    I wanted to curl into a ball and cry. The trauma of the spirits, plus that elder spirit raking at my soul, was bad enough. I felt damaged, drained. I needed days of sleep, perhaps some painting, and a lot of quiet, menial chores. Digging potatoes for Mrs. Saunders would help. Perhaps sweeping the road and buffing it to a shine might, too. Anything to let my brain shut off for a while to heal.
    To add to that, there was no magical moment where Jeremy admitted his undying love for me. I looked away so he wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes.
    “You okay?”
    “Nah, I’m good.” I needed a segue to move the conversation back to demons, ghosts, spirits, and normal topics like that. “Exhausted.”
    Jeremy saved me, at least. “So, we’re back at square one?”
    “More like the parking lot before square one. We haven’t even gotten out of the car yet.” I sighed. “What the hell was that spirit going on about?” I said aloud, not actually expecting Jeremy to answer.
    “She seemed pretty pissed that you were trying to send them back.”
    I could have smacked my hand against my forehead. “I’m such an idiot!”
    Jeremy gave me the look reserved for crazy people and drunks.
    “I’m used to calling on my mother’s ancestors. I don’t know if I’m native or not, but Mom is and she taught me her traditional ways.” I drummed my fingers on the table. “That’s why none of the