The Matchmaker's Medium by Laurel King Read Free Book Online

I managed to squeak out. Ugh .
    “So—what brings you here, on this beautiful 200-degree day?”
    “Oh. Well, I’m here to talk to you about Victoria.”
    “Victoria. Oh, the big—I mean, the nice lady who was in the accident?”
    I giggled, in spite of myself. “Yeah, her.”
    “She already picked up her car, a little while ago.”
    “Oh. I didn’t know it was done.”
    “Yep. We try not to take longer than we have to. Especially with, uh, certain types of people.”
    “You mean, people who make you crazy if you don’t finish at the exact minute you said you would? Those types of people?”
    He chuckled, “Yeah. That’s the type.”
    “Well, I didn’t want to talk to you about her car. Not just her car, anyway.”
    “All right. What did you want to talk to me about? Besides the car, I mean.”
    “Well. I’m not sure how to ask this…”
    “Let me give you a hint: think of the question, then say it out loud. Does that help?”
    “Ah, a fellow smartass. I love it.”
    He smiled, his goatee framing his pinkish-brown lips that were so soft looking I wanted to reach out and—
    “Is there something on my face?” he asked, touching his mouth and cheeks with his dirty fingers.
    “No, oh, crap, now you have grease all over yourself.” I reached around him, grabbed one of the clean shop towels on a shelf next to his desk, and started wiping his face. I was doing a pretty good job, too, until I noticed his expression: uncomfortable shock.
    Well, that’s just great; now he knows I’m a total nut-job.
    “Sorry about that,” I muttered, instantly dropping my hands to my sides. I looked at the ground, kicking my foot a little, twisting the shop towel and seriously contemplating making a break for it. Instead, being the chicken I really am, I just stood there wishing I could evaporate into the air.
    “It’s okay.” He walked over to a mirror hanging on the wall, “Mind if I use that?”
    I looked at the towel in my hands like it was a snake that somehow slithered in when I wasn’t looking. I tossed it to him fast, like it was on fire. He caught it easily, in his big, strong hand with those long fingers –
    There I go again.
    “Whatta you think?” he asked, turning from the mirror and motioning toward his now-clean face. “Better?”
    “Yeah.” Jeez. I hope there won’t be permanent brain damage from whatever this is.
    “So, now that you’ve had plenty of time to think of your question, are you ready to ask it?” he teased.
    “Yes.”
    “Great. Fire away.”
    “All right, so, she came to me and told me her grandmother’s spirit—“
    “Oh, is that all? You want to ask me about her abuela’s spirit appearing every night since her accident?”
    I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Not bad. Not bad at all.
    “Sure, that’s what I wanted to ask you about.”
    “In my family, they say things like that are ‘messages from the next life’. Nothing to be scared of, just—a news story, delivered by a reporter from the other side.”
    Nicely put.
    “So your family has it?”
    “Has what?”
    “It. The Spirit Mark.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Oh, sorry. That’s what I call it. It’s kind of like a gift—or a curse, depending on your perspective—where you can talk to spirits. You know, ghosts.”
    “My mother had it. And her mother, before her, my abuela . It’s pretty common in our culture, talking to spirits. We don’t see it as shameful or ‘crazy’, like most of you do.”
    “That’s refreshing.”
    “Do you have it? The—what did you call it?—Spirit Marker.”
    “Spirit Mark. And yes, I have it.”
    “You don’t seem very happy about it.”
    “Well, it’s been more of a curse than a blessing for me.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Kind of a long story. I don’t want to bore you.”
    “How long is long?”
    “Um, it’s been with me my whole life, as far back as I can remember. More than 30 years’ worth, anyway.”
    “You don’t look old enough to say that.”
    I