Imaginary Fiends (A Return to Magic Cozy Mystery, 3)(Paranormal Women's Midlife Fiction)

Imaginary Fiends A Return to Magic Cozy Mystery Book Three Lily Harper Hart HarperHart Publications Copyright © 2023 by Lily Harper Hart All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Created with Vellum Contents 1. One 2. Two 3. Three 4. Four 5. Five 6. Six 7. Seven 8. Eight 9. Nine 10. Ten 11. Eleven 12. Twelve 13. Thirteen 14. Fourteen 15. Fifteen 16. Sixteen 17. Seventeen 18. Eighteen 19. Nineteen Mail List Acknowledgments Books by Lily Harper Hart Books by Amanda M. Lee One “Suck it!” Rowan Gray-Davenport ducked behind a vault and made a face when an egg exploded on the other side of the concrete structure. She was confused how the ghost they were chasing had found eggs, but he seemed to have an endless supply of them. “This is going to smell,” she complained to Harper Harlow-Monroe, who was one vault over and looking frustrated. The last thing the ghost hunter had said before they left the office was that taking down a departed soul on their own property would be easy. That was an hour ago, and they were no closer to sending the mouthy soul to the other side. “It’s definitely going to smell,” Harper agreed. Her shoulder-length blonde hair looked gloopy, telling Rowan that she’d gotten some egg in it throughout the course of the fight. Rowan wisely opted not to mention it. “I hate this guy.” “I hated him when he was alive,” Zander Pritchett, Harper’s best friend and co-owner of the Whisper Cove Cemetery groused. He was on the ground, his back to a different vault, and he appeared to be reading on his phone. “You guys knew him, right?” Rowan pressed. She rarely took part in the ghost takedowns—she had to be bored to waste the trip—but since this one was in their backyard, she thought it would be fun. Now she was regretting her choice. “We knew him,” Harper confirmed. “He graduated with us.” “Chad ‘the Cad’ Coleman,” Zander volunteered. “He was a tool when we were twelve, an absolute nightmare at seventeen, and the worst thing to ever hit this town at twenty-two.” “You’re just jealous,” the ghost shot back. “You wish you were as great as me.” An egg landed less than a foot from Zander and elicited a scowl. “Come and get me, Twinkle-toes!” Rowan frowned. She hadn’t known Chad in life, but if his ghost was any indication, he was definitely a tool. “Let me guess, he gave you a hard time in high school because you were gay,” she drawled. Rowan might not have known Chad, but she’d known people like him over the course of her life. She hated him on principle. “Pretty much,” Harper confirmed. “He caught on to the truth in sixth grade and was relentless when going after Zander. I had to punch him in the nuts three times in one year to get him to back off.” “Something I could’ve done,” Zander muttered. “Also, I didn’t even know I was gay in sixth grade. How could he?” Harper shot her friend a sympathetic look but didn’t respond. “This is where you tell me that it was obvious, isn’t it?” Zander demanded. He and Harper had a unique relationship. They’d been best friends since kindergarten and had grown to be codependent adults. They loved each other dearly, while also taunting one another like siblings. “Let’s just say that most people were leaning a certain way by sixth grade,” Harper replied. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?” “Of course it matters,” Zander fired back. “I was a manly sixth grader. I was even shaving back then.” Harper made a face. “You were not.” “I was too. I had more testosterone than anybody in our entire grade.” “You didn’t start shaving your face until we were in high school,” Harper argued. “I remember because I had to go with you to pick out a razor, and you were offended they only came in black and gray.” “It wouldn’t have hurt them to market a few other colors,” Zander sniffed. “And I was definitely shaving in sixth grade. It just wasn’t my face.” Harper took a moment to consider it and then narrowed her eyes. “You told me that your pits came like that.” Zander rolled his eyes. “It’s not my fault you were naive back then.” Rowan swallowed a laugh. She enjoyed listening to Harper and Zander go at each other most days. Ever since she’d taken a job working for them—it involved aiding in the day-to-day operations of the cemetery and taking photos for their ghost-hunting tours at night—she’d grown exceedingly fond of both of them. Now was not the time though. “Guys,” she hedged. Harper and Zander were caught in their own little world, however, and didn’t pay attention to her. “It should’ve been a dead giveaway when I had to teach you how to shave your pits,” Zander argued. “I mean … do you remember the summer between seventh and eighth grade? I thought you were becoming a feminist, your pits were so hairy.” “That is stereotypical,” Harper fired back. “Also, I am a feminist.” “Which explains your wardrobe, but I digress.” Rowan poked her head out from behind the vault to try to get a fix on the ghost. She couldn’t always see the spirits, but the more time she spent with Harper, the more visual cues she could pick up on. She was growing stronger in her magic, which was ever evolving, but she still lagged behind her friends in some respects. She was okay with that—they all had unique abilities after all—but she wouldn’t have minded having eyes on Chad the Cad right about now. “Stop talking to me,” Harper growled. “I need to think. Chad obviously isn’t going