Must Love Ghosts (Banshee Creek Book 1) Read Free Page A

into the land of bland food and blander TV.
    Kraft and Mark Harmon wouldn't take away the shadows from his eyes.
    "And I'm thinking of getting a ride," he mused. "Maybe a motorcycle."
    Her heart skipped a beat.
      "That can wait," she said firmly. "You can take your leave here. Arlington's not far and I know you Army guys sublet to each other on the military forums. You can set up your new life from here. "
    What was it with guys and motorcycles? She'd just spent an entire afternoon cheering up Zach Franco, who'd almost gotten himself killed in a bike accident in South America. He'd survived but his arm and back had been shattered. Luckily, he'd regained the ability to walk, but her lead guitarist would never be able to play the guitar again. The thought of Mike on a motorcycle terrified her, but she kept that to herself.  
      "So how long is your leave?" she repeated.
    He wouldn't meet her eyes. "Well, I'm always subject to being recalled—"
    She glared at him.
    "Two weeks," he admitted, finally giving up the fight.
      "That's perfect," she said, thinking hard. "You can help us out and have, you know, fun while doing it." She glanced at his fatigues, which could, she was pretty sure, pass as a costume. "We're trying to get our Halloween party into the Guinness Book of World Records and we need every warm body we can get."
    "That sounds even better than the German Star Trek convention." His eyes shone with amusement. "No, as appealing as your offer sounds, Abby, I really need to go." He glanced at his bag. "I just have to deliver..."
    That gave her an idea. She grabbed the green duffle bag and pushed it—dear lord, what did he have in there? Kryptonite?—into the house. He stared at her in shock as she quickly locked the door.
    "There," she said. "Now you have to stay."
    Mike lunged for the key, but she jumped back, avoiding him. She stuck her tongue out at him and put the key in her bra. She didn't question why it was so important to keep Mike in Banshee Creek. She just accepted that, right now, it was the most important thing in the world.
    He frowned at her, no longer amused.
    "Oh c'mon," he said, again staring fixedly at her hair. "That's not fair."
    "All's fair in..." She was going to say "love and war" but thought better of it. "War" didn't sound quite right.  
    And "love?"
    Love definitely sounded wrong.  

C HAPTER T HREE

    "I F YOU call me Natasha one more time," Abby's voice was sharp as steel, "I'm going to take one of those arrows and stick it in your you-know-what."
    Mike smiled as the guy in the purple mask slinked away. At least he wasn't the only one who thought Abby's clingy leotard was a Black Widow costume.
    "I swear," she grumbled, glaring at the retreating figure. "People have no sense of history any more."
    They were waiting in line to be admitted to the party. It was early evening and the sky still glowed orange from a belated sunset. The trees were covered with golden leaves and a kid dressed like a Shaolin monk was playing "People are Strange" on his guitar. The creepy mansion he'd seen when he arrived in town loomed in front of them, all mildewed fish scale siding and peeling purple paint. The waterspouts were in the shape of gargoyle heads and each one held a small stone sign inscribed with an arcane symbol.  
    He had to hand it to the party organizers, they knew how to create ambiance. The place was creepy as hell.
    "I guess this house is what started the haunted town stories," he said.  
    Abby shook her head. "This? No, not really, the stories predate the town. A Powhatan Princess threw herself off the Banshee Falls when her father killed her lover. That was the first story. Then the Scots-Irish founded the town, and the banshee stories started. When the Civil War came about, the ghost stories multiplied, but the real catalyst was author Ambrose Bierce. He had a summer cottage here, and he wrote a book about all the weirdness he heard about during his vacations."
    "A whole book?"
    "Yep,