Something Wicked. Angela Campbell

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       Chapter One

      She’d only been at the restaurant five minutes and already a freaking ghost had zeroed in on her.

      Crap. Crap. Crap.

      Alexandra King jerked her gaze away from the tall man in the corner near the bar—the one wearing a double-breasted black coat with a gray vest underneath—and drummed her fingers against the table top as she waited for her waitress to bring her a bowl of she-crab soup and Caesar salad. The white cotton shirt the man wore was too long for his arms and erupted in ruffles at his wrists. His hair curled below a low Derby hat, and he looked as real as any flesh-and-blood man in this place.

      Except for the bloody gash at his throat.

      She couldn’t help it. She risked another glimpse in his direction. Still watching her, the dead man tipped his hat and winked at her.

      Pushing out of her chair, Alexandra shoved her way through the small crowd of people gathered for a Wednesday evening outing at the Southend Brewery and Smokehouse in historic Charleston, South Carolina, and headed toward the sign marked Restrooms.

      This stylish specter made about the tenth dead person she’d seen since checking into her room at the inn forty minutes ago. Thankfully none had shown more than a passing interest in her…so far.

      She glanced over her shoulder to see if this ghost was going to make a pest of himself. He didn’t seem to be following. Good.

      Derby Hat Guy was behind the bar now, pouring himself a draft, unseen by the bartender shuffling around him. Stifling a chuckle, she ducked her head and pretended to find the floor interesting. She’d learned long ago that if she ignored dead people, nine times out of ten, they would do the same. It was the ones who didn’t that gave her headaches as they chipped away at her mental barrier, made her lose sleep, and do stupid stuff like fly hundreds of miles to hunt down a person she didn’t know.

      A vibration against her right hip distracted her, and she dug her phone out of her pocket. Glancing at the caller ID, a smile tugged at her lips as she saw her newest—and possibly closest—friend’s picture on the display. СКАЧАТЬ