Free Sorrow's Point by Danielle DeVor Page B

Tabby in. She was the one who watched horror films of every description. She was the one who studied folklore about demons and vampires. She was the one who was a part-time ghost hunter. It wouldn’t hurt to ask if I could bring in another person.
    After we got all the groceries in the house, Tor put everything away. I tried to help with that, but Will stopped me.
    “Your best bet is to sit here at the table with me. The kitchen is Tor’s domain, and I don’t want to see you get clobbered for putting something in the wrong spot.”
    I grinned and looked over at Tor. She was arranging cans in alphabetical order. I was way out of my element. I sat down at the table like a good boy.
    “I have a question,” I said.
    “Okay,” Will said, scratching his wrist.
    “How would the both of you feel about me bringing in a friend who might be able to help?”
    “What sort of friend?” Tor asked. Her eyes never left the cans she was arranging.
    “My ex-girlfriend. She might be useful.”
    Tor snapped her eyes upwards towards me. “And how would your ex-girlfriend help?” she asked, nastiness evident in her voice.
    I took a deep breath. “Because she’s battled a demon once before.”
    It got so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.
    Then, Tor straightened up and put the cans in the pantry. “You really think she can help Lucy?”
    “I think she can try.”

Chapter Twelve
Tabby: Part 2
     

    I got into my car and started it. I had dumped the ruined plants in the dumpster, but I still didn’t feel safe. There was something not right, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I cued my iPod and cranked the volume on the car stereo. Today was Type O Negative day.
    I’m sure it sounds really weird to have specific days set aside for music, but it’s something I’ve always done. For me, it’s like I need a soundtrack for my day in order to make it better or to keep it from going badly. If I didn’t play the soundtrack for my day in my car, things just didn’t work right; almost like a transmission that is missing just enough tines on the gears to sound odd but can still shift.
    Ironically, if I didn’t go anywhere by car, I didn’t need the soundtrack. Maybe the soundtrack was my way of being obsessive compulsive and staving off the bad luck that I feared was about to rain down upon my head.
    Type O Negative was what I listened to when I felt down, but I didn’t know why. Sometimes, the music helped me get out of my funk, and sometimes, the funk was a sign that trouble was brewing. Either way, it felt right and true to play Type O Negative today.
    Most people familiar with the music would feel it’s downright morbid, but when you looked underneath, it was all sarcasm and message.  I loved it. I hated that I would never hear Peter’s dark voice again. Rest in peace, Peter Steele, wherever you are.
    Suddenly, I heard an upbeat bit of music in the background that was completely counterpoint to the song I was listening to.
    “Oh shit, the phone.”
    I grabbed my purse from the back seat while keeping my eyes on the road. The car swerved slightly, and I decided not to look in the backseat and just rooted around with my hand. I felt the handle of my purse, grabbed it and threw it into the front passenger seat. Then, I dug inside it. Finally, I felt my phone in the bottom of my purse. I snatched it and answered it.
    “Yeah,” I said.
    “Tabby?” he asked.
    Holy shit, it was him. The him that got away. The him I feel I corrupted.  My defrocked priest, Jimmy Holiday.
    “Why, Jimmy. I thought you’d disappeared.”
    He laughed. “Nah, just stuck in a cubicle for way too long. You still witchy?”
    It was my turn to laugh. “Um, yeah. I was born a witch, I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon.”
    “Good. You wanna come to Virginia?” he asked.
    What the Hell? Maybe this was the wrongness I’d been sensing. Things were pretty bad if Jimmy Holiday was asking a witch for help. When we were dating, he avoided