Claire waited for Annie to make the next move. While she did, she assisted customers, and planned the next addition to the Halloween display in her window, glancing every so often toward the back.

The young woman’s grief was almost visible, a wall she put between herself and the rest of the world. Claire had watched her for a few minutes before approaching her, wanting to ease the ache that showed in every movement.

She had not planned to open the well.

Getting close to—anyone, was not an option for her. As a shopkeeper, in a beach town that lured visitors from around the world, Claire had all the socializing she could ever want. But something about the tall blonde sitting at her table reached in past her solid defenses. That something could be dangerous for both of them.

The bell over the door chimed, and Claire looked up, letting out a mental sigh when her least favorite customer toddled in. She forced an easy smile and walked around the counter.

“Good afternoon, Mildred. How can I help you today?”

The old woman blinked at her, wringing her hands. That was not a good sign with Mildred.

“I need your help, Claire.” She sounded spooked, instead of her usual borderline rude.

Claire took her hands, surprised by her icy skin. “Tell me what happened.”

“I went to visit Harold, like I do every week. Leaves are the worst this time of year, and he’s resting right under a tree. That was his idea, of course.” She sniffed. “I told him I’d be the one dealing with his bad decision—”

“What happened next?” Claire knew if she didn’t gently prod, the old woman would ramble on endlessly.

“I just finished whisking off the top of his headstone and—I saw it,” she whispered, her voice wavering more than usual. Claire wrapped one arm around her shoulders when she started shaking. “A ghost, staring at me like he wants to—possess me.” She shuddered, clutching at Claire’s hand. “I nearly fainted dead away right then and there.”

“Are you certain it wasn’t another visitor?”

Mildred raised both eyebrows. “Quite. I could see through him.” She lost all pretense of fear, her voice changing to the high-pitched, excited voice that always had Claire stepping back. She did so now, because Mildred also started waving her free hand around. “He practically swooped down on me, like an avenging angel, or—a demon.”

Claire gave herself points for not flinching. “Can you describe him? Aside from the swooping.”

“Tall, dark hair to his shoulders. He had on a black coat, one that went all the way to his ankles. Like Heathcliff.” Mildred sighed, the sound more suited to a teenager than a seventy eight year old woman.

“More like Sutherland.” Annie stepped around the tall shelf, arms crossed. “Daniel Sutherland, the local legend. You haven’t heard about him?” Claire shook her head. “He was one of the original founders of Santa Luna, but it wasn’t called that when they first built the town. The town was originally named after his fiancée, Juliet.”

Claire studied her. “Why haven’t I heard this before?”

“Because you run a woo woo store?” Annie smiled. “It’s not something the local Chamber of Commerce likes getting around. According to what I read—before the book was yanked out of the library—Daniel killed his fiancée and committed suicide. On Halloween.”

Mildred refused to return to the cemetery with them, so Claire let her go, slipping a quartz crystal in her hand.

“It will help calm you, Mildred, and it’s free of charge. I’ll talk to you soon.”

She guided the old woman out of the shop, watched her toddle down the sidewalk, yelling at the two local kids who were foolish enough to step in her path. Claire smiled, knowing she would be just fine. When she stepped back inside, Annie waited for her, hands on her hips.

“You’re not thinking of going there.”

“Do you know anything about ghosts, Annie?”

The young woman looked surprised by the question. “I—not really.”

“They can become trapped, doomed to wander where their soul has been bound. Do you believe this Daniel Sutherland committed murder?”

“I—”

“Don’t think, just answer.”

“No.” Annie sighed, and lowered her hands. “Their story was one of the most romantic I’ve ever read. If Daniel’s diary entries are accurate, he loved Juliet more than life.”

“Where is she buried?”

“The family graveyard. The Sutherland family graveyard.”

“Interesting.” Claire moved behind the counter and pulled out her personal stash of crystals and potions. “Since Mildred saw Daniel in the town cemetery, I am going to guess he is buried there. Away from his family, away from his love. Though someone had enough influence for him to be buried in consecrated ground, if the story of suicide is true.”

“That part was pretty official, according to what I read. He was found not far from his mansion, the day after the murder.” Annie leaned over the counter, her nose all but buried in the padded bag. “What’s this—wow. Is that, like, your witch kit?”

Claire smiled. “Something like that. Are you coming?”

“You’re going—right now?”

“I can close the shop a few minutes early. I’d like to reach the cemetery before dark, to give myself time to set up. I could use an extra pair of hands.” And the power Annie had no idea she radiated.

Claire opened her laptop and typed in Daniel Sutherland. The summoning would be easier with an image. Several popped up in the results, and her eyes widened. He had been a striking man, and he looked familiar. Too familiar. She studied the strongest photo of him, and her unease grew.

Dark hair fell to his broad shoulders, framing an angular, patrician face. He had been tall, if the chair he stood next to was of normal height. Claire realized she was staring, and sent the image to the printer.

He won’t recognize you, not now.

She brought up a couple of bios, which confirmed her suspicion. The man she met would never have killed his fiancée. All she had to do now was summon him—and find a way to break him out of the cemetery.