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  Ghost Light

  ( Ivy Granger - 2 )

  Erica J. Stevens

  Ivy Granger, psychic detective, thought she’d seen it all…until now.

  With a vengeful lamia that only she can see on the city streets, reports of specters walking Harborsmouth cemeteries, and an angry mob of faerie clients at her office door, it’s bound to be a long night. Add in an offense against the faerie courts and a few foolish bargains and one thing is clear—Ivy Granger is in some seriously deep trouble.

  Ivy Granger is back, gathering clues in the darkest shadows of downtown Harborsmouth. With the lives of multiple clients on the line, she’s in a race against time. Ivy finally has a lead to the whereabouts of the one person who can help her control her wisp abilities, but will she put the needs of her clients above her own?

  If Ivy doesn’t find a solution soon, she could wind up a ghost herself.

  GHOST LIGHT is the second novel in the bestselling Ivy Granger urban fantasy series by E.J. Stevens.

  Ghost Light

  Ivy Granger 2

  By

  E.J. Stevens

  Now it is the time of night,

  That the graves all gaping wide,

  Every one lets forth his sprite,

  In the church-way paths to glide.

  -William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

  What wild heart-histories seemed to lie enwritten,

  Upon those crystalline, celestial spheres!

  …Lighting my lonely pathway home that night,

  They have not left me (as my hopes have) since.

  They follow me - they lead me through the years.

  They are my ministers - yet I their slave.

  Their office is to illumine and enkindle -

  My duty, to be saved by their bright fire

  -Edgar Allan Poe, To Helen

  Pronunciation Guide

  Pronunciations are given phonetically for names and places found in Shadow Sight and Blood and Mistletoe, the first novel and novella of the Ivy Granger series. Alternate names and nicknames have been provided in parentheses. In some cases, the original folklore has been changed to suit the city of Harborsmouth and its environs.

  Athame: ah-thaw-may

  Barguest: bar-guyst (Bargheist, Black Dog)

  Bean Tighe: ban tig

  Béchuille: Beh-huh-il (Bé Chuille)

  Blaosc: blee-usk

  Boggart: bog-ert

  Brollachan: brollach-hawn

  Brownie: brow-nee (Bwca, Urisk, Hearth Faerie, Domestic Hobgoblin)

  Bugbear: bug-bayr (Bug-a-boo, Boggle-bo)

  Bwca: bu-ka (see Brownie)

  The Cailleach: kall-ahk (The Blue Hag, Cailleach Bheur, Queen of Winter, Crone, Veiled One, Winter Hag)

  Cat Sidhe: kat shee or kayth shee (Faerie Cat, Cait Shith, Cait Sith)

  Ceffyl Dŵr: Keff-eel Door (Kelpie King)

  Clurichaun: kloor-ih-kon (clobhair)

  Daeva: day-va

  Demon: dee-mon

  Each Uisge: erkh ooshka (Water Horse)

  Faerie: fayr-ee (Fairy, Sidhe, Fane, Wee Folk, The Gentry, People of Peace, Themselves, Sidhe, Fae, Fay, Good Folk)

  Fear Dearg: far dar-rig (The Red Man)

  Forneus: Fore-nee-uss (Demon, Great Marquis of Hell)

  Fuath: Foo-ah

  Galliel: Gal-ee-el (Unicorn)

  Ghoul: gool (Revenant)

  Glaistig: glass-tig (The Green Lady)

  Gnome: noh-m

  Goblin: gob-lin

  Griffin: griffin (Gryphon, Griffon)

  Grindylow: grin-dee-loh

  Hamadryad: ha-ma-dry-ad (Tree Nymph)

  Henkie: hen-kee

  Hippocampus: hip-po-cam-pus

  Hob-o-Waggle Hob-oh-wag-l (Brownie, son of Wag-at-the-Wa)

  Jenny Greenteeth: Jen-nee Greenteeth (Water Hag)

  Kelpie: kel-pee (Water Horse, Nyaggle)

  Lamia: lay-me-a

  Leanansídhe: lan-awn-shee (Lhiannan Sidhe, Leanhaun Shee, Leannan Sìth, Fairy Mistress)

  Leprechaun: le-pre-khan (leipreachán)

  Mab: Mab (Unseelie Queen)

  Melusine: Mel-oo-seen

  Mermaid: mer-mayd (male Merman)

  Merry Dancer: mer-ree dan-ser (Fir Chlis)

  Murúch: mer-ook (Merrow, Moruadh, Murúghach)

  Nixie: nix-ee

  Oberon: O-ber-on (Seelie King)

  Peg Powler: Peg Pow-ler (Peg Powler of the Trees, Water Hag)

  Peri: per-ee

  Pixie: pix-ee (Pisgie)

  Pooka: poo-ka (Phooka, Pouka, Púca, Pwca)

  Redcap: red-kap (red cap)

  Saytr: say-tur

  Selkie: sel-kee

  Shellycoat: shell-ee-cote

  Sidhe: shee (see Faerie)

  Succubus: suk-you-bus (male Incubus)

  Tech Duinn: tek doon

  Titania: Ti-tayn-ee-ah (Seelie Queen)

  Troll: trol

  Tuatha Dé Danann: tootha day da-nan

  Tylwyth Teg: till-with teeg (Seelie Court)

  Unicorn: you-ne-korn

  Vampire: vam-pi-r (Undead)

  Will-o’-the-Wisp: Wil-oh-tha-Wisp (Gyl Burnt Tayle, Jack o’ Lantern, Wisp, Ghost Light, Friar’s Lantern, Corpse Candle, Hobbledy, Aleya, Hobby Lantern, Chir Batti, Faerie Fire, Spunkies, Min Min Light, Luz Mala, Pinket, Ellylldan, Spook Light, Ignus Gatuus, Orbs, Boitatá, and Hinkypunk)

  Introduction

  Welcome to Harborsmouth, where monsters walk the streets unseen by humans…except those with second sight.

  Whether visiting our modern business district or exploring the cobblestone lanes of the Old Port quarter, please enjoy your stay. When you return home, do tell your friends about our wonderful city—just leave out any supernatural details.

  Don’t worry—most of our guests never experience anything unusual. Otherworlders, such as faeries, vampires, and ghouls, are quite adept at hiding within the shadows. Many are also skilled at erasing memories. You may wake in the night screaming, but you won’t recall why. Be glad that you don’t remember—you are one of the fortunate ones.

  If you do encounter something unnatural, we recommend the services of Ivy Granger, Psychic Detective. Co-founder of Private Eye detective agency, Ivy Granger is a relatively new member of our small business community. Her offices can be found on Water Street, in the heart of the Old Port.

  Miss Granger has a remarkable ability to receive visions by the act of touching an object. This skill is useful in her detective work, especially when locating lost items. Whether you are looking for a lost brooch or missing persons, no job is too big or too small for Ivy Granger—but you may be on her waiting list for awhile. Hopefully, you are not in dire need of her immediate services. After her role in recent events, where she was instrumental in saving our city, Miss Granger’s business is booming.

  If matters are particularly grim, we can also provide, upon request, a list of highly skilled undertakers. If you are in need of their services, then we also kindly direct you to Harborsmouth Cemetery Realty. It’s never too early to contact them, since we have a booming “housing” market. Demand is quite high for a local plot—there are always people dying for a place to stay.

  Chapter 1

  What do the names ghost light, friar’s lantern, corpse candle, aleya, hobby lantern, chir batti, faerie fire, min min light, luz mala, spook light, ignus fatuus, orbs, boitatá, and hinkypunk have in common? They are all names for wisps. Corpse candle? Now that was bound to give a girl a complex.

  I had recently discovered that I was half fae. My faerie half is wisp, as in Will-o’-the-Wisp—my father, king of the wisps. It was a lot to digest.

  Dealing with my newfound princess-of-the-wisps status was stressful, but business was booming and I didn’t have
time for random panic attacks. I used to see a therapist to help deal with my anxiety. Lately, I visited Galliel at Sacred Heart church.

  Galliel wasn’t the priest at Sacred Heart, though I usually stopped and said hello to Father Michael while there. Father Michael had helped me with my recent demon trouble, but spending time with him didn’t relieve my anxiety like Galliel did. It wasn’t Father Michael’s fault. He was a good priest, as far as I could tell, but he was only human. Galliel was a unicorn.

  I was indulging in my guilty pleasure, Galliel’s adoring head resting in my lap, while Ceff spoke with the priest. This was bliss. I had always wondered what true happiness was like, but never thought I’d have the opportunity to experience it for myself. Somehow, during a catastrophic week that nearly brought my city to its knees, I had found my own. Galliel was a big part of that. So was Ceff.

  If I were looking for love on Craig’s List, my singles ad would begin something like, “Must Love Unicorns.” Of course, I didn’t have to look for love online. My heart now belonged to Ceff.

  Ceffyl Dŵr, or Ceff, was a kelpie. In fact, he was king of the local kelpies. Since discovering my wisp princess birthright, that seemed somewhat fortuitous. It was also extremely dangerous. The kelpie king had plenty of enemies. He also had a murderous, sociopathic wife.

  I didn’t care. For the first time in my life, I felt like I truly belonged. I had so much to be thankful for; a gorgeous date; an amazing best friend, business partner, and roommate; a wonderful mentor; fabulous new friends; numerous clients; and a pet freaking unicorn.

  I should have known that something bad was coming. I have said it before and I’ll say it again; Fate is a fickle bitch.

  *

  Most people have skeletons in their closets. I wasn’t born yesterday, and I am fully aware that my boyfriend was born more yesterdays ago than I can count. Since Ceff is a few millennia old, I expect some dusty bones lurking behind the perfectly pressed shirts, faded jeans, and tailored suits—no shoes of course. What I didn’t expect was for Ceff’s skeletons to come storming from the dark corners of his closet with finger bones raised in anticipation of clawing my eyes out.

  Ceff was married once. To put it nicely, the woman was a freaking bitch. I’d say the chick was a harpy, but that would insult harpies everywhere and I didn’t want to piss off potential clients. Melusine, Ceff’s ex-squeeze and former queen, was pure malicious evil.

  Judging from the memories I witnessed in a psychometric vision I had while hunting for Ceff’s bridle, the woman was also bat-shit-crazy. Coming from me, that’s really saying something. But seriously, what other reason explains a mother murdering her infant child in front of her husband?

  Their union, an arranged marriage based on fae politics, may not have been based on love, but Ceff hadn’t been a bad husband. He was attentive to his wife and lavished her with gifts befitting a queen. But his true love was reserved for his sons. Unfortunately, that love would spell their doom.

  Melusine became so filled with jealousy that she began scheming how to remove her eldest son from his prized role as heir to the kelpie throne. She framed him as a traitor—a crime punishable by death under kelpie law—and watched with glee as her husband meted out the punishment. But her eldest son’s public execution was not enough.

  Melusine wanted Ceff’s love and undivided attention, but even in his grief, Ceff didn’t turn to his wife. Instead he shone his affections on his youngest son who was then still just a babe.

  Melusine seethed with envy for the love she felt was rightfully hers. What kind of child steals a parent’s love from the other? Enraged, she dangled the child over a pit of flames and watched as Ceff struggled to save him. His attempts to plead with her, for the sake of their child, only maddened her further. She threw their baby into the fire and, with a flick of her serpent tail, disappeared into the sea.

  I had hoped that the bitch had been eaten by a shark, or run over by a motor boat. Maybe she’d remarried some other poor guy and was making big with the crazy in his ocean. I didn’t care, though I was fond of the shark scenario, so long as Melusine was out of the picture.

  Too bad she didn’t stay that way.

  Have you ever taken pictures with friends and everyone is smiling, but when you see the photos later they are dotted with white orbs? Okay, sometimes those are my people, wisps, but more often they appear like ghosts haunting the picture’s inhabitants and making the smiles seem grotesque rather than cheerful.

  Melusine was like one of those photographic ghosts. She was back in the picture, haunting me and tainting the near-perfect relationship that Ceff and I had with painful memories and the threat of violence. The honeymoon was over before it began—and that really pissed me off.

  I’ll be turning twenty-five soon and I have never dated anyone until now. I’ve also never been intimate with anyone. The closest I’ve come to intimacy was one magical night with Ceff during the winter solstice. Jinx thinks I’m nuts for cuddling on the couch all night when I had the chance for something more, but for me being held was a huge first step. Nearly twenty-five and never been kissed. But I was getting closer to achieving that with Ceff, until his ex-wife showed up.

  She better hope she had a leprechaun somewhere in her family tree, because that bitch was going to pay.

  Chapter 2

  Fog rolled in off the harbor to smother the Old Port and strangle The Hill with its embrace. I trudged through the chill mist beside Jinx, lamenting the shopping bags filled with shoes hanging from every gloved finger. I hate shopping. The threat of getting an unwanted vision without the reward of a payday was too high, but my roommate and business partner wanted to celebrate our newfound success and I was a sucker for tears.

  Now I was acting as a shopaholic’s Sherpa while Jinx scaled Joysen Hill in six inch platform pumps. I figured carrying the bags was slightly better than having to carry an injured BFF. Jinx was the most accident prone person I’d ever met. Just watching her teeter on those shoes, while tripping over cobblestones, made my ankles hurt and teeth ache.

  I tried to rub my jaw with my shoulder, but gave up with a grunt. My neck and shoulders were tight and I’d likely pull a muscle. Walking around Joysen Hill always made me tense, even during daylight. The oppressive gloom of the incoming fog made my ears itch, as if I were being watched.

  I spun on the balls of my feet, suddenly sure that someone was approaching from the gloom, but when I scanned the street behind us I saw only harmless shoppers out on a chilly spring afternoon. I peered through the pea soup fog further down the hill, my gaze darting into shadowed doorways and alleys, but couldn’t spot the source of my unease.

  The alarm bells going off in my head could be good old-fashioned paranoia, but worrying about being hunted in this part of the city wasn’t necessarily my imagination. The big baddies of Harborsmouth, both supernatural and human, have holed up in the warrens of Joysen Hill for decades. It’s a fact of life in Harborsmouth that bad things happen daily on The Hill. Vampire slumlords suck their tenants dry, djinn provide favors for those who…rub their lamps, and carnivorous fae find creative ways to bait humans into their lair.

  That was the other reason why I had agreed to go shopping. Jinx had access to faerie ointment which allowed her to see through a basic faerie glamour, but the stuff was expensive. She’d rather spend her money on shoes than on the potions my witch friend brewed. So I tagged along to make sure Jinx stayed out of trouble. Jinx may only be able to see shopkeepers hocking their wares, but I could see the fangs and mandibles behind the glossy smiles.

  I steered Jinx away from a display of pottery bowls, that beneath a shimmering glamour were actually hollowed out skulls, and into the shop next door. The smell of leather filled the air and a hiccup erupted from behind the till. I smiled and let the tension ooze out of my neck and shoulders. We had entered a clurichaun’s leather goods shop.

  My hands were currently sheathed in a pair of clurichaun crafted gloves, a Christmas gift from Marvin. I smile
d and flexed my fingers, trying not to drop the bags I was holding. Marvin had gone to a lot of trouble to bargain with one of the perpetually inebriated faeries, but I was glad that he did. The gloves were beautiful, fit me perfectly, and hadn’t given me terrifying visions.

  Clurichauns, cousins to the infamous cobbler faeries, maintain a constant state of intoxication. In other words, the little drunkards are too merry and their minds too unfocused to pass along unpleasant visions. Marvin had found the perfect gift for me. I smiled thinking how lucky I was to have had the young troll stumble into my life. I’d have to buy the kid some honey before heading home.

  I shifted my bags and the clurichaun behind the counter snorted and fell off his stool with a crash. Jinx gasped and I hurried forward to take a look. The red-nosed faerie stumbled to his feet, shook his head, rubbed his face, and grinned from ear to oversized ear. I wondered, not for the first time, how the bleary-eyed creature could craft such beautiful leather goods. I shrugged a shoulder. It was just another faerie mystery.

  Jinx, no longer concerned about the shopkeeper, rifled through a bin of leather belts.

  “This one is gorgeous,” she said, holding a red belt aloft. “Do you have shoes to match?”

  Jinx turned to the man behind the counter and I winced. Leprechauns make shoes, clurichauns make everything else. It was a sore point between the two faerie races.

  The red of the clurichaun’s nose spread across his face and down his neck. I half expected steam to come out of his ears. Of course, that was silly. He wasn’t a phoenix.

  The clurichaun stumbled out from around the counter shaking his fist.

  “Now, I’ll tell you…” he said.

  The little man stopped in front of Jinx, mouth falling open. His silly grin returned and the heat rising in his face shifted to his rosy cheeks. Clurichauns don’t stay mad for long and this one was obviously smitten at the sight of my roommate. Of course, at his height, he was looking up her skirt.

  “Clurichauns are master tailors and leather craftsmen, not cobblers,” I said, filling the uncomfortable silence. I reached for the belt in Jinx’s hand and pulled her away from the enthralled faerie.