monster haven 06.5 - transmonstrified Read online

  I’d seen Kelsey disappear into the ceiling and into the closet. So, if she wasn’t based in the closet, she’d probably chosen the crawl space on the other side of the ceiling tiles.

  Please, oh please, don’t make me climb around above ceiling tiles.

  I hated those places. I could put up with the mice, dirt, and tight space. But I’d already fallen through those stupid, flimsy cardboard tile things on two separate hunts.

  Either way, this chase wasn’t going to end right now. If I couldn’t think of a reason to get into their storage room, I sure as hell couldn’t make an excuse to climb up into their rafters.

  The lights flickered again.

  Tina put her hand on my arm. “Come on. Let’s get you rung up and out of here before something else happens.”

  As we wound our way through the different stations, I glanced over my shoulder at the door to the storage room. Kelsey’s face pushed through the wood, and she watched me with an intensity that would make anybody nervous. Unless they were a soul catcher, of course.

  I grinned and winked at her. Her eyes grew wide, and she ducked out of sight.

  At the counter, snooty lady rang me up and presented me with a bill that explained the level of snot she’d been giving me. I had the money in my account, but she’d pissed me off. Judgy McJudgerson.

  Pretending to scratch an itch, I poked a finger beneath my wrist cuff and touched one of the fully charged gems in my arm. A tiny electric spark licked my skin, and a slight sense loss tugged at me. If I’d pulled aside the bracelet, I’d have seen one of my gems was now a little duller than the other.

  I reached into my purse and pulled out my new, magically minted platinum card and handed it over, trying my best to look nonchalant and a little bored.

  One of the receptionist’s eyebrows gave a small twitch, but otherwise, she didn’t react. I imagined she’d probably expected me to pay in dollar bills and change. I could have, actually. I’d been working undercover as a waitress three days before while I figured out where the soul of a pissed-off fry cook had holed up.

  Silly cow didn’t seem to realize she was a receptionist, not the ambassador to the Queen of the Fairies. Nothing wrong with being a receptionist, but receptionists shouldn’t be looking down their noses at waitresses.

  I’d been right to slip her the platinum card. Despite her feigned lack of surprise to find me carrying the coveted bottomless credit card, her entire attitude shifted. “Is there a time you’d like to schedule for you next appointment?” Her red lips split apart in a ghastly grin. “Perhaps I could schedule you for a facial or manicure?”

  My heartrate sped up at the thought of trying mud on my face or letting someone else paint my nails. I sighed. No. I doubted I’d have time to stick around for pampering. “Not today, thanks.” I watched her run my card through, then I signed the name embossed on its shiny surface: Kamerona Hogglesworth.

  I kept my lips pursed to avoid smirking while I signed. Sometimes my magic put a spin on things I didn’t expect. Fake names and IDs were where it came up most. I couldn’t use my real name, of course. If anyone knew my real name, they’d have the power to lock me up in a vessel and force me to use my magic on their behalf. Having already spent a century in that condition, I did everything I could to keep my name private. My magic, however, liked to come up with the stupidest names possible.

  I added a hefty tip for Tina—it was magic money anyway—and strode toward the door. At the last second, I turned back and scanned the waiting area. Sure enough, Kelsey hung in the air, directly above the counter, watching me go. Her gaze moved from my face down to my chest, her eyes growing wide. I glanced down and realized my soul stone necklace now rested outside my shirt.

  Kelsey bit her lip and poofed out of sight.

  “Something else we can help with?” the now-accommodating lady behind the counter asked.

  “Yeah. One question. What time do you close?”

  ~*~

  The funny thing about runners was, they really weren’t that hard to catch, in theory. My partner, Darius, often told me I made it way more difficult than it needed to be.

  While the soul is recharging at its anchor location, a soul catcher only needs to get close enough to let the soul stone make the capture. Simple.

  Where I tended to complicate matters was when the soul’s unfinished business tugged at my heart. I often let go of perfect opportunities to nab a runner because I felt bad and wanted to help them finish up with their earthly business before going wherever souls go. I collected the soul eventually, but not without a lot of complicated errands, chats with the deceased’s loved ones, and a hell of a lot of annoyed eye rolling from Darius.

  But this catch didn’t have to be complicated. Her unfinished business was simple—Kelsey was caught in a weird obsession with rinsing shampoo from wet hair. Fine. I’d let her wash my damn hair if that’s what it took to make her happy.

  Everybody should be happy before they cross over, right?

  Breaking into the shop was fairly simple. Back in the ‘80s, during one of my short escapes from my master, I spent some of my time running around with a guy named Stan, who owned a pawnshop outside of New Orleans. He taught me to ride a motorcycle, make gumbo, fish for crawdads, crochet potholders, and pick locks. That last came in handy a lot more often than I’d expected at the time. The potholders would’ve been my first guess.

  But there are other barriers besides locks. A high-end beauty salon would have a high-end alarm system. However, not every business in the building did. Earlier in the day, I’d done some scouting and found the pet groomer six doors down didn’t have an alarm set up. It cost me a little jewel juice to do a thorough check of the building, but not nearly as much as if I’d used my magic to get inside. I didn’t mind using a little on a job, but a full jewel is hardly worth the pay the Board gives me for each soul I catch for them. So I’m willing to spend magic on snooping, but not on anything bigger.

  So, the back door to the pet grooming shop was easy to unlock and didn’t set off any alarms. From there, I climbed a sink, shoved aside a ceiling tile, and pulled myself into the crawlspace. Earlier, I’d dreaded the idea of maneuvering over those ceiling tiles, but this time I didn’t mind the long scuttle across the beams and through the spaces from one store to the next. I’d dressed the part, all black and slinky with a mask over my eyes like Batman wore. Not so I wouldn’t get caught, really. I just thought I looked cool. Like Catwoman. Costumes made everything better.

  Still, six stores was a long way to crawl. By the time I reached the salon, my palms and knees hurt, tufts of pink insulation clung to my clothes, and my lungs were full of dust.

  After I moved a ceiling square aside, I reached into the messenger bag strapped to my side and pulled out a can of hairspray. I leaned down and pressed the nozzle, waving my arm in an arc to cover as much area as possible, then popped the can back in my bag.

  It wasn’t like I actually expected a bunch of crisscrossed laser beams to show up in the sticky cloud below, but I hoped. And I’d always wanted to do that, so it seemed like a good chance. I had to admit, I was a little disappointed not to see a red laser grid I’d have to do crazy acrobatics to get past.

  Maybe my next runner would hide out in a jewelry store or a bank vault.

  I dropped out of the ceiling into a low crouch, impressed with my landing and how much I was sure I looked like Catwoman, minus the ears. Arching my back, I struck a pose with my hand mimicking a cat’s paw, claws out.

  “Meow,” I purred in my best Julie Newmar. That was as far as I got before all that hairspray hit my lungs, and I folded up in fit of coughing that lasted a full five minutes.

  Totally messed up my entrance.

  Once I got myself together, I pulled my mask off and dabbed my eyes with it before stashing the thing in my back pocket. The moment was ruined. Time to get to work.

  I wandered through the dark shop, running my hands over the smooth counters and vinyl chair backs, smelling pr
oducts, and poking at styling tools. There was enough ambient light from the street to see well enough, but it was dark enough that no one should be able to see me. I took my time making a few circuits of the shop, hoping Kelsey would show herself, but she stayed out of sight.

  The door to the storage closet was locked, but I had it open in seconds. Nothing was in there but towels and bottles of hair products.

  “Fine.” I headed toward the row of sinks and plopped into a chair. “Sure could use a shampoo while I’m here.” I leaned back and waited.

  The cold porcelain of the sink dug into my neck, and the chemical smells of old-lady perms lingered from the previous workday, stinging my nose. And still, Kelsey didn’t come. I shook my decidedly shorter, asymmetrical hair, hoping to get her attention. Nothing.

  “Oh, for Gozer’s sake.” I couldn’t wait around all night. Obviously, Kelsey’s unfinished business wasn’t to shampoo someone, it was to rinse them. I flipped over to my knees and reached for a bottle of what I hoped was shampoo, then leaned forward, spraying my hair with the nozzle until I was soaked.

  I had, of course, forgotten to put on one of those cool capes.

  The bottle I’d chosen turned out to be shampoo after all, and I dribbled it into my wet hair. I worked it into a good lather, hanging my head forward over the sink. Then I squirmed around until I returned to the normal position with my neck cradled in that sink dent that’s nowhere near as comfortable as the designers meant it to be.

  I didn’t have to wait long, reclining in the stiff chair with my soapy head in a sink and my eyes closed tight to keep them safe. Unlike the victims in the salon during the day, I didn’t have a live stylist standing at my sink in Kelsey’s way, so she didn’t park herself a sink away. Cool water splashed into the sink from the nozzle until it was warm, then steady hands guided the water through my hair, thoroughly rinsing it until it almost squeaked. The spray turned off for a moment, and I heard her take another product from the shelf. Next, she spread whatever it was—conditioner, probably—through my locks, followed by a relaxing scalp massage, then another rinse. She wrapped a towel around my head, then helped me sit up.

  I opened my eyes and found her standing next to me, a pensive look on her face.

  “Thank you, Kelsey.” I reached under my shirt for my soul stone. “I feel great. I bet you feel better, too.”

  She blinked. “Why would I feel better?”

  I slumped back into the uncomfortable chair, disappointed. “Your unfinished business. You needed to finish shampooing someone.” I pointed at my turbaned head. “Uh?”

  She shook her head. “You had soap in your hair. I wasn’t going to just leave you like that. “

  I rolled my eyes. “So what’s the problem, Sunshine? Why are you sticking around? Don’t you have better things to do than hang around work for eternity?”

  She folded her arms over her chest and bit her lip. “You’ll laugh.”

  “I laugh at everything. It’s more a judgment on my sense of humor than on anything you do or say. I’m just like that. Try me.” I gave her what I hoped was a dazzling grin with a hint of whacko thrown in.

  The poor girl shuffled her feet, twisting a chunk of short blonde hair between her fingers while looking like she was about to ask for the moon. After a moment, she gathered her courage. “I never got past the shampoo stations. It’s not fair.”

  I frowned. “I don’t get it. I’ve seen you all over the shop. You got past the sinks earlier today and flew right over my head while my hair was being cut.”

  She stomped her foot in frustration. “I could have cut your hair. I have the training, just like Tina. In fact, we graduated together. But she got a job as a stylist, and I’m stuck rinsing and trying to work my way up.” She scowled.

  I sighed. What did I have to lose? “Do you think you could work with mine? I know Tina did it earlier today, but I bet you could make it even better.”

  Kelsey’s face brightened. “You’d let me do that?”

  I shrugged. “Sure.”

  “Could I…” she hesitated. “Would you like some highlights?”

  Trying to be nonchalant about it, I loosened my bracelet and peeked at the magic levels in my jewels. No telling how much juice it would take to regrow my hair and repair the damage of bleaching and coloring it. I was no expert, but my hair was nearly black. She’d have to strip it first to do anything to the color.

  One jewel shimmered steadily in the subdued light, but the other pulsed with about half a load. It would be enough, I supposed. Resigned, I slid the bracelet back in place and nodded. “I’m game. Let’s do this.”

  She clapped her hands and bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement. “Yay! Come with me.”

  A minute later I was seated comfortably in a make-me-pretty chair while a ghost wrapped a cape around me and let my hair out of turban captivity. We were in the farthest corner away from the windows so she could turn a light on to see what she was doing.

  I made a face at the mirror when I saw the hack job Tina had done. My original assessment that my hair was totally rad was actually totally bogus. It hadn’t looked that bad dry, but now that it was wet, what was supposed to be artistically asymmetrical simply looked crooked. I really had nothing to lose here with Kelsey. It couldn’t get any worse, right?

  We were there for hours. Since my hair was wet, she had to dry it first, in order to color it. Next, the dye had to process, then it had to be rinsed and my hair conditioned before the cut and style. Thanks to the crazy shenanigans from the first cut earlier in the day, Kelsey had to trim a lot more in order to even it out. Absolutely nothing could be done about the bangs slashed straight across my forehead. By the time she was done, I had a curly bob that hung below my ears and had streaks of orangey yellow darting through it all.

  It wasn’t great, but at least it was interesting. Thank the gods of Hollywood I hadn’t blown my magic on breaking into this place. It would take years to grow out my hair to what it had been eighteen hours ago.

  Nevertheless, she was fluffing my new curls and grinning. No need for me to be rude about it. She’d done her best.

  “Fantastic!” I beamed at her. “I love it.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You sure?”

  “Positive!” I reached under my shirt for the soul stone. Now we could wrap things up.

  Kelsey took the cape off of me and shook it out. “All right. Well, if you’ll follow me, please.”

  I frowned and dropped the stone. What could she possibly have left to do? Stretching my cramped muscles, I rose from the make-me-pretty chair and followed her through the darkened shop to the front counter.

  My ghost stylist reached under the register and pulled out a receipt pad and a pen, then jotted a few figures on it. “Here’s your total.” She smiled and pushed the paper toward me.

  After all this, I had to pay for it, too? I squinted at the figures in the dim lighting. She’d written several squiggles, a hashtag, and a happy face. I glanced at her face and saw she was waiting for something, even though she hadn’t actually written a number.

  Sometimes the dead were a little confused about the world. And sometimes they had unfinished business, but weren’t entirely sure what it was. It was looking more and more like that was Kelsey’s case.

  I handed her my credit card, hoping that was the right response.

  She grinned and swiped my card through the machine, even though the machine was turned off for the night, waited a few beats, then handed the card back to me.

  I tucked it away and gave her a hopeful look. “So…I guess that’s it, then.”

  She nodded and sighed. “I guess so.”

  One of the saddest sights in the world is a restless, escaped soul with no idea what her unfinished business actually is. I should have pressed harder when I’d first met her and not assumed the obvious. My hair would be a lot less fluffy. And orange.

  I leaned my elbows on the counter and gave her my most serious face. “Listen. We haven�
��t come right out and talked about it, but you know why I’m here, right?”

  Kelsey sighed again, long and deep. “Yes. I know.”

  “I don’t want to take you until you’re ready, but if you can’t figure out what it is you need to do, I need to take you anyway. It’s almost daylight. People will be coming in soon.”

  That was a slight exaggeration. It was a little after four in the morning. Still. I was bone tired and itched like crazy because of all the tiny hairs from two separate haircuts. If Darius had been here, he probably would have barged in during office hours, forced her into the stone, then left. Instead, she got me. I’d been a good sport through all this, but enough was enough.

  Kelsey’s form had been pretty solid ever since she’d rinsed my hair, but she shimmered now, as if she were a hologram about to blink out. “There’s nothing left for me to do here.” She wavered a second time, then solidified again. “I guess I just hoped if I proved myself, Connie would regret never letting me do more than shampoo.”

  I tilted my head. “Connie?”

  “She’s the manager. She usually works behind the counter.”

  “You mean the snooty lady with the tacky glasses and tiny lips?” The bitch hadn’t even wanted to let me in. I was not a fan. “I thought she was a receptionist. She’s the manager?”

  Kelsey folded her arms across her chest. “She’s a terrible woman. Pretends she’s above everyone else, as if being in the same room with us is slumming it.”

  I nodded. “That’s the impression I got of her, too.”

  Kelsey leaned closer, dropping her voice to a whisper, as if someone might overhear us. “She’s not, though.”

  “Not what?”

  “Not better than the rest of us. In fact, I happen to know she steals products and goes through everybody’s stuff when they’re busy. You should see all the loot she’s got stashed in her locker.”