Free Sleep Stalker (Ghosts Beyond the Grove Book 1) by Joy Elbel Page A

kitchen counter so I snatched it up and flipped it over to the blank side.  On it, I wrote down the only words I really cared to share with him at the moment.
         “Don’t forget we need to go home this weekend to get my car.”  I placed his car keys on top of my message then left for the bus stop.
          Work was a pleasant distraction for the first few hours.  Poe’s Corner was packed with patrons so I didn’t have time to stew over my problems at home.  Addie and I slung latte after latte with barely any conversation.  It was afternoon before I knew it.  When the flood of customers turned into a mere trickle, Addie was ecstatic.  I, however, was not. 
         My mind had barely begun its slow spiral down into things I didn’t want to think about when it got a rough shove into the abyss.  It all started with a text from Rita.
         “No matches to any known entities.  Even consulted with colleagues.  Nothing in O’Hare history relevant either.  I don’t think Zach’s being haunted.  Ask your dad for medical advice.  Sorry.”
         Exactly the words I didn’t want to hear.  Was I jumping to conclusions or was she suggesting that something was incredibly wrong with Zach?  And by that, I meant mentally.  His behavior was abnormal for sure but that didn’t mean he was going crazy, did it?  Did it?   No, there had to be a ghost involved.  I felt crazy myself for hoping that the answer lay somewhere in the supernatural realm.  Ghosts I could deal with.  Psychological breakdowns, not so much. 
         Addie asked me what was wrong but I refused to tell her.  I chalked it up to being tired and changed the subject.  So for the next hour we talked about things less personal and controversial.  We entered a particularly interesting conversation about her grandmother.
         “Granny runs a couture jewelry store in the French Quarter—Elva’s Armoire.  She makes a fair amount of money sellin’ those baubles to tourists but what she has for sale in the backroom is what brings in the real moolah,” Addie proudly announced to anyone within earshot.
         I was afraid to ask what she sold in her infamous backroom.  And by the looks on the few customers’ faces, I wasn’t alone in my thoughts.  Even Miss Mabel, the resident ghost, bore a look of Victorian shame before disappearing into the bookshelf altogether.  So apparently I wasn’t the only one picturing a lady in her early sixties wearing tassels and very little else.  I wanted to stop worrying about Zach but this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.  But before my overactive imagination filled in any more of the salacious blanks, Addie explained exactly what was in the backroom of Elva’s Armoire. 
         “That’s where Granny keeps the good stuff—voodoo charms, amulets, potions, etc.  She also gives tarot readings, too.  But all of that stuff is strictly off limits to tourists.  Ya have to know somebody who knows somebody to get access to powerful things like that.  I mean, she won’t even give me the combination to the safe back there!”
         That was only slightly better than what I had been picturing.  Now instead of gold tassels and sturdy stripper poles, I had visions of headless chickens, necklaces made from freshly stripped bone, and zombie bouncers guarding the door.  And I thought my life was weird!  I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be the granddaughter of a voodoo queen.  But then again, I couldn’t actually imagine being anyone’s granddaughter.  And there it was—the second thing that I didn’t want to think about.
         My dad’s parents died before I was born.  My mom’s parents were more elusive than she was.  Were they even still alive?  Grrr!  The more I thought about it the sadder I felt because finding them seemed impossible.  At the moment, everything seemed impossible. 
         Addie halted all talk of voodoo when she saw that