Samantha and I sat down and got to work.
"Don't forget to include the location, the time, and the cost of tickets," Samantha said, handing me a blank poster and some glue.
"Oh, yeah," I said. "Where is prom going to be this year, anyway?"
Penny rolled her eyes. "The Wilder mansion, duh! We only chose the place about a year ago."
"Well, that was before Daisy joined the committee," Sam said judiciously. "The good places go fast," she told me.
The Wilder mansion was the oldest building in town, and nobody had lived there for many years. When I was small, it had been a crumbling old building full of dust and bats. But Mrs. Wilder had spent the last two years restoring it to its former glory.
"How does it look in there?" I asked Sam. "It was in rough shape for a long time."
"Oh, it's amazing," she gushed. "The place is practically dripping with gold. That family is loaded. There's a wing with their private residence, and another wing where there's a ballroom and a little restaurant where they serve afternoon tea."
"Sounds fabulous," I said.
Samantha sprinkled some glitter on her poster. "Maybe we can double," she said.
"Double where?" I asked. Samantha dated Sean Walsh, who was the quarterback of the football team, star catcher on the baseball team, and all-round big man on campus. He also lived next door to me.
"A double date for the prom," she said.
Our last double date hadn't gone so well. I'd found an unconscious girl in the bathroom of the Black Opal, an all-ages club.
"Ryan hasn't asked me yet." I glanced at Penny, who was listening in with her mouth open.
"Well, he'd better not wait too long," Samantha said. "I hear there's another interested party."
"Who?" I asked, loudly. Penny's ears perked up again. "Who?" I repeated, this time in a lower voice.
Samantha glanced at Penny and then leaned in so we wouldn't be overheard. "I hear Duke Sherrad is smitten with you."
"I was over guys like Duke Sherrad when I was twelve," I said.
Samantha looked at me shrewdly. I don't know why I mentioned that age. The age I was when my dad left us. "Well, all I'm saying is that Ryan had better hurry. You can't wait forever."
"We don't even have the prom posters up yet," I pointed out. "He probably hasn't even thought about it. When did Sean ask you?"
"Last month," she said.
Sean was whipped, but I was starting to worry that Ryan wasn't planning on asking me.
"Does everyone else on the squad have dates?" I gestured toward Penny and Rachel, who were sitting at a table near us.
"Not Penny, but Rachel is going with Z," she said. Z was short for Adam Zeigler. My sister Poppy had dated him briefly, but they hadn't been seeing each other lately. Poppy had been having a date drought during her senior year.
I didn't want to be in any category with Penny, but dateless for prom was definitely the category to avoid.
"What about everyone else?" I nodded toward the row of cheerleaders.
She shrugged. "The popular girls get asked early."
I raised an eyebrow and looked at her solemnly.
"I mean—everyone knows Ryan will—oh, you know what I mean," she said as I slowly cracked a grin.
I had to admit that I had fun with Samantha. We'd been best friends until middle school, then enemies, and now we were working our way back toward friends again. We hadn't made it all the way back to trusting each other yet. Sam had her secrets, and I had mine.
And speaking of secrets...
"How are your parents?" I asked. The last time I'd been at the Devereaux house I'd found a secret stack of overdue bills, which was odd, since the Devereauxs were one of the wealthiest families in town. Or at least they had been.
"They're traveling again. Mom's in San Francisco, and Daddy's on tour."
Before my father disappeared, he and Samantha's father had been colleagues at the local college, UC Nightshade. Her father made a bundle off a book he wrote using much of the research he had done with my father. Of course, Rafe Giordano wasn't around to complain about the unfairness of it all.
An hour later, we were finished with the glitter, glue, and smelly markers.
"Do you want a ride home?" Samantha asked. "I'm heading that way anyway. I'm going to hang out at Sean's house and wait for him to get out of baseball."
"Sure, thanks." We headed for her car, a newer-model BMW convertible.
I was curious why Samantha would want to hang out at Sean's house, with all his little brothers and sisters running around, when she could be relaxing in her giant Jacuzzi in the privacy of her own home. Was Samantha lonely all by herself in that big house?
"Do you want to help hang the posters Thursday after school?" she asked.
"Sure." The sooner the posters were up, then maybe the sooner Ryan would take the hint.
"Hey, do you want to hang out at my house until the guys are through with baseball practice?" I asked as we pulled onto my street.
"Maybe another time," she said. "I promised Katie that I'd help her make cookies." Katie was one of Sean's little sisters.
"See you later." Samantha parked the car, and I headed to my house. She headed next door.
I threw my backpack down on the hallway table and went to the kitchen to make a snack. Rose sat at the counter, her nose in a book. She tended to zone everyone out when she was studying. I had to say hello twice before she looked up.
"Oh, hey, Daisy," she said. "I'm glad you're home. What are you making tonight? I invited Nicholas over for dinner."
Since Mom always worked late, I did almost all the cooking in our house. What did werewolves eat? Could I use garlic? If not, that left out half of Grandma Giordano's recipes. Oh, wait. Vampires were repelled by garlic. It took silver bullets for werewolves.
After a moment of consideration, I said, "I'll make fettuccini Bolognese. Werewolves like meat, right?"
"Nicholas," she said firmly, "likes everything. Whatever you make is fine. We haven't had fettuccini in ages. But do you have time?"
"If you run to the grocery store," I said. "I'll make some minestrone to start, too. Mom loves that. I have everything I need for the soup."
As I handed Rose the grocery list, Poppy appeared in the doorway.
"Need any help with dinner?" she asked. "I'm starving!"
"Can you chop the vegetables?"
Poppy didn't answer, but the fridge door opened and a parade of veggies floated onto the cutting board. She winked at me. "You should practice your powers more often. You'd be the fastest chef ever."
She had a point. The minestrone was simmering on the stove just minutes after Rose left. By the time she got back with the ground pork and ground veal, I had the sauce made and everything under control.
"When's Nicholas getting here?" I asked.
Rose looked worried. "He should be here by now," she said. "He had some kind of business meeting with his dad. Maybe it ran late."
" The kind of business meeting where they get wild and vampy?" I asked, although those particular meetings usually happened after dark.
"I don't think so," Rose said.
Not only was Nicholas a werewolf, he was a member of the Nightshade City Council. In fact, there was something different about all the council members—the town's founding families comprised paranormals of all sorts, including werewolves, banshees, and vampires. They held their meetings at Mort's Mortuary, the funeral home Nicholas's family owned. Technically, as nonmembers, we weren't even supposed to know about the council and their doings, but Ryan and I had spied on a meeting once.
I heard the door open and Mom's keys jangle.
"We're in here," I called out.
"What's cooking? It smells delicious," Mom said.
"It's almost ready," I said. "Rose, do you think we should wait for Nicholas?"
"No, it's okay," she said.
I was ladling out the soup when the doorbell rang. Rose went to get it. I could tell it was Nicholas b
y the tone of her voice. I telepathically picked up on a stray thought of hers that made its way into the dining room. Trouble. What did Rose mean?
She came back with Nicholas a minute later.
"Hello, Nicholas," Mom said.
"Mrs. Giordano," he said. "Just who I wanted to talk to."
"Mort's Mortuary is having a few problems," Rose explained. "Nicholas and his dad would like us to look into it."
Instead of saying yes, Mom said, "Please sit down. We'll talk about it as we eat."
Poppy helped me to dish up the plates, and then we sat in silence for a moment as we ate.
"What kind of problems?" Mom finally said.
"Things have been ... out of place," Nicholas admitted.
I asked eagerly, "You think it's something supernatural?" My specialty. "Someone at school mentioned she'd seen lights and heard strange noises coming from the building. What's going on?"
"Let's just say that the Tranquility Room hasn't been very tranquil," he said.
" They're not sure what's causing the disturbance," Rose said. "Mom, can you help them?"
"We can try. I'll see if I can get a reading."
Just then her cell phone went off. "It's Chief Mendez. I'll have to take this." My mom worked with the Nightshade police squad on a lot of cases.
She put the phone to her ear and had a low-voiced conversation. When she hung up, she said, "Nicholas, I'm afraid we'll have to table this for another time. I've been called to a case. But tell your dad the girls and I will be glad to help."
She stood and came over to kiss my forehead. "Daisy, dinner was delicious."
"But you've hardly touched your pasta. And it's your favorite," I protested.
"Save it for me. I'll eat it when I get home." She left the room.
"Let's go over to Mort's and see if we can get a reading," Rose suggested.
"But what about Mom?" Poppy said.
"You heard her," Rose replied. "She said 'the girls and I'will help."
My help? Doubtful. My psychic powers were not the most reliable, even at the best of times.
Chapter Three
When we arrived at Mort's, Nicholas unlocked the door and let us in. I guessed the locked door meant there wasn't a viewing scheduled. Good thing. I'd seen exactly one dead person (or, as it turned out, undead) and I wasn't looking forward to seeing another.
We checked in with Mr. Bone, who was sitting in his office. Not much wiped the smile from Mort's face, but the chaos in the mortuary had left him pale under his golfer's tan. He showed us where the trouble was and retreated quickly. The Tranquility Room was the nicest room at the funeral home, decorated in tasteful beiges. A large fire roared in the fireplace.
"Who lit that fire?" Rose asked.
Nicholas shrugged. "Nobody knows. That's the problem."
"What is that smell?" I asked. It sure wasn't funeral flowers.
"It's cologne," Poppy replied, sniffing the air. "Dreamer by Versace, to be specific."
Since when had she become a men's fragrance expert? Then I remembered the parade of one-time-onlys that had crossed our threshold in the past few months. Not one, single guy had been granted a repeat date.
"Which one of your guys used that?"
She stared at me for a minute. "None of them," she said. "Don't you remember? It's what Dad always smelled like."
I tried not to wince. I didn't remember. In fact, I didn't want to remember.
"I guess that means our ghost is most likely a male," Rose said.
"Do you think it's him?" Poppy said hopefully.
"No, Poppy, I don't think it's our dead father paying us a long-overdue visit," I snapped. "In the first place, he's probably living in Ohio with some woman, a pack of kids, and a minivan."
I could feel someone watching me. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. We weren't alone. A large vase on the mantel started to shake. The vase rocked faster and faster until it flew off the mantel and whizzed by my head. It crashed to the floor and shattered.
I turned to Poppy. "Did you do that?" I thought she might be playing tricks with her telekinesis again. But she wouldn't scare the heck out of me just for kicks. Humiliate me, yes. Like when I borrowed one of her sweaters without permission, and it floated off me during my first date, leaving me hanging in the breeze.
Poppy looked pale and frightened. "No way!"
"This sort of thing has been happening constantly," Nicholas said. "The room is unusable."
"Looks like a textbook haunting to me," Rose said.
The fire roared higher and higher until I thought it was going to jump out of the hearth. Despite the heat of the flames, the room was terribly cold.
Suddenly, the fire went out, leaving the room full of smoke. When it cleared, I saw Poppy picking up a small piece of paper off the floor.
"Look at this," she said to us. "It's a funeral card. For a guy named Gage Atwood. He died last year around this time."
Rose peered at the card. "Amazing," she murmured.
"Whoever he is, he seems pretty ticked off," I said, looking at the shards of broken glass littering the floor.
"Can we check your dad's records for Gage Atwood?" Rose asked Nicholas. "It might help us if we find out how he died."
They left the Tranquility Room, leaving me with a troubled-looking Poppy.
"I'm sorry what I said before—about Dad." I said quietly. The truth was, we didn't know whether he was living or dead. But either way, he was gone.
"It's okay," she said, grabbing a tissue from a box on a small side table. It was a funeral home, after all. The place was littered with them. "I just need to be alone for a few minutes."
"Here?" I looked around the room. I could still feel a presence. "I don't know if you're alone, exactly."
"I don't mind," Poppy said.
"Are you sure it's okay to leave you?"
"He threw a vase at you, not me." She waved me off. "Go ahead. I'll see you at Slim's."
I left her in the wrecked room but stood in the hallway out of sight for a few seconds before leaving. It sounded like Poppy was trying to talk to the ghost. I checked my watch and finally decided she'd be safe enough. Rose, Nicholas, and Mr. Bone were there if she got into any real trouble.
If I'd had any idea what was going to happen, I would never have left her alone with a ghost. Not for a second. So much for my psychic skills.
Chapter Four
Slim's was your basic fifties-type diner. Red-leather booths, lots of stainless steel, and a permanent greasy smell. One of the servers was Flo, a fixture at Slim's, who waited on you if and when she felt like it. If you ever had the nerve to hand her a pink uniform, she would have handed you your head on a platter, with a little garnish of parsley.
Flo was in her early twenties, with serious tats. Her uniform consisted of blue jeans and a variety of T-shirts. Today's shirt read, COME TO THE DARK SIDE. I HAVE COOKIES.
The diner was crowded, and I spotted a bunch of kids from school clustered around Duke at a booth in the back. I wasn't in the mood to worship the new guy—fortunately, there were still a few empty tables by the door. I sat down to wait for Poppy. The door jingled and I looked up. It was a stranger, a girl about my own age. She had long dark hair and gorgeous full lips, but it was her unusual amber eyes that sent a shiver through me. She hurried to the counter to pick up a to-go order.
"Three rare steaks, right?" I heard her ask Flo.
The jukebox abruptly kicked on, although no one had put in any money. None of the regular clientele even looked up. Everyone at Slim's was getting used to the jukebox's weird ways. It played whatever it wanted, whenever it wanted to play it. The song it had decided on this time was "Lovers and Liars" by Matchbook Romance. Sometimes I felt like the jukebox—which I liked to call Lil—was trying to send me messages with its song choices, but I didn't always quite get what it was trying to tell me. As I pondered the meaning, the mysterious girl slipped past me out of the diner and into the night.
Duke spotted me
sitting alone and broke free from his clinging admirers.
"Daizee," he said. He practically had to bodycheck Penny to get her off his arm. He came rushing over.
"Hi, Duke." He was everywhere these days.
"Would you like to join us? I'm reading tea leaves for some of my new friends."
"Uh, thanks, but I'm waiting for my sister."
"I would be honored if you would introduce us," he said. He looked so hopeful that I couldn't say no.
"Sure," I said. "She should be here any minute."
Just then, Poppy walked in and plopped down in a chair. I noticed she had a rather large bandage on her hand.
"What happened?" I asked anxiously. I was ready to kill that ghost for hurting my sister, except for the obvious fact that he was already dead.
"It's nothing."
"It doesn't look like nothing."
Poppy shot me a warning look and then looked at Duke. "Are you going to introduce me to your friend, Daisy?"
"Oh, yeah, this is Duke Sherrad," I said, still distracted by the thought of a violent ghost.
"So pleased to meet you, Poppy," Duke said, and kissed her unbandaged hand. She blushed. This guy didn't quit. After charming my sister for a few minutes, he said, "Please excuse me. I need to obtain fresh tea leaves for the reading."
" The reading?" Poppy said it with a straight face, but she had a gleam in her eyes when she looked at me.
I glanced at an imaginary spot above her head. It wasn't polite to laugh in someone's face. "Flo will get you a tea bag if you ask."
"I have my own loose tea," he explained, "but I need a fresh cup and some hot water."
He'd passed the first test. If he would have used a tea bag instead of the proper loose tea, it would have given him away as a phony.
As soon as Duke left the table, I went back to hounding Poppy about her injury. "So what did that ghost do to you?" I demanded.
"He was just a little ... irritated, what with being dead and all, but we came to an understanding."
"Did he happen to mention what's got him in an uproar?"
"Nope, but I read him the riot act. He helped me clean up."