Free 15 Amityville Horrible by Kelley Armstrong

know who you should ask about that? The necromancer council delegate. She’s the expert. I’m sure she’d know…Oh, wait.”
    “Do you still want that delegate to take you shopping in Paris this fall? I could ask Elena to take my place. You know she loves fashion almost as much as she loves shopping.”
    “No need for threats. I’ll get on this right away.”
    “Thank you.”
     
    …
     
    When I came out of the shower, there was a fresh, steaming cup of coffee waiting. Jeremy was at the tiny desk, on Skype with the twins. I got him to tilt the screen so I wasn’t flashing five-year-olds as I dressed. Once I was decent, I sat on the bed behind him so I could talk to the kids.
     
    In public, Jeremy usually refers to the twins as his grandchildren. That’s easiest, though it does lead to some confusion from those who are quite certain he doesn’t look old enough to have them. To the kids, he’s just Jeremy. More parent than grandparent, a part of their everyday life, just as likely as Elena and Clay to be fixing their breakfast or driving them to school.
    What does that make me? I’m not sure. When I’m there, I’m part of the family circle. When I’m not, I’ll talk to them a few times a week. Maybe I’m like an aunt, maybe a grandmother. Maybe, as with Jeremy, the label isn’t important. What matters is that I am something to them, more than the family friends who pass in and out of their days.
    I like that. It fills something in my life. I won’t say it fills a maternal hole, because I’m not sure I ever had one. I suppose, if we wanted, Jeremy and I could still have children, but the subject has never come up because it’s moot, really, for both of us. We’re past that stage in our lives and we’re okay with that.
    I don’t think I miss not having children. If I’d had a child and resented that child for hampering my career, then I’d be no better than my own mother. I would never inflict that childhood on anyone. So I have the twins now, and they fill that gap, whatever it is.
     
    …
     
    After the call, we got ready and headed out for lunch, then to the set. It was still hours until showtime, but there were plenty of taped bits that needed to be done, so they could be spliced in through the show. For me, that consisted mostly of relaying past ghostly encounters, which they could insert when the action on screen was underwhelming.
     
    The afternoon and early evening sped by. Finally, it was time to head into the house for a few last-minute things before the cameras rolled. They wouldn’t film us actually entering. That had been done last night, a staged clip of us meeting for the first time, then streaming into the dark house.
    I left Jeremy at one of the trailers, where he’d watch the taping. Naturally, I’d told him he didn’t need to stay. Go have a nice dinner. Return to the motel. Read, sketch, relax. At the very least, he didn’t need to stay all night. He would, of course, no matter how boring it got.
    Gregor and I headed to the house together. We were talking about a case he’d had in Russia, where he kept seeing a ghost who wouldn’t make contact. I gave him some advice. It was honest advice, more like I’d give to a fellow necromancer than a fellow spiritualist. I still wasn’t sure if he was the real deal, but he was earnest and sincere enough, and that prodded me to be the same in return.
    “Hey!” someone called as we climbed the steps. “You can’t go in there. Cast only.”
    A blond girl was coming up behind us. I recognized her as one of the “ordinary folks” who’d be joining us.
    “Melinda, right?” I said with a big smile. “We met yesterday. I’m Jaime.”
    “You can’t go in there, Janey. It’s a closed set.”
    “I’m one of the cast. Jaime Vegas.”
    She stared vacantly at me.
    “I’m a spiritualist,” I said. “I contact the dead. We met last night.” I waved to the side of the house. “Remember, I was up on that balcony?”
    “Were you