The Phantom Touch

Help Wanted

Things didn't get any better over the next few days. I tried inquiring at any establishment that had ever been nice to me. There was Hen's restaurant, but she wasn't looking for help. She offered to give me a few hours a week to fill in here and there, which I told her I'd consider, but we both knew I wasn't going to take her offer. I didn't want hand outs and I didn't want to stress Hen's budget.

There was also the deli I stopped in from time to time. However, it was a family run business and they already had too many cooks in the kitchen. Then there was the department store, Hearth Home, which I realized had only been nice to me because I was a customer. Once I inquired about being more than that, it became clear that I was not wanted. Finally, I asked Spencer if he could use another maid or something at the hotel. Unfortunately, he felt like it wasn't a good idea to employ one of his guests and then wished me the best on my hunt.

At this point, I'd become quite the spectacle in town. People weren't crossing the street quite as quickly when they saw me coming and patrons didn't always get up and walk away if I dared to sit close to them at the park or in a restaurant. Not that it was because of some newfound appreciation or desire to get to know me. I had become an oddity, a curio of sorts. They'd openly whisper and point at me, their eyes wide with interest and their snickering unconcealed. I wasn't sure if I preferred this treatment or the town wide cold shoulder I used to get.

It wasn't just the town that was changing in regards to me, but also the other Bodies. There was Dean Showalter, a lean young man with a desire for immortality in the form of a vampire. He had a grand plan of being turned by Bernadette Derosiers and eventually starting his own business. However, I'd lost some favor with him when I caused Bernadette's exile from town, making his options for vampirehood severely limited. When I started taking initiative to get a job, he chalked that up as another slight against his dreams.

Will Connors, a large, gruff man with hopes of being turned into a werewolf, saw it differently. Before, he considered my friendship with the town's alpha, Everett, to be a bit of competition in his bid to join the pack. However, now that I was open about not wanting a particular sponsor, and instead looking to provide for myself, he was one of my biggest cheerleaders.

As for Violet and Irene, they barely took any notice. Irene was so new, she didn't really have any image of me other than the one of the job seeking go getter, and Violet was just too busy with the impending end of her contract. She was a rare sight those days and if there was one thing the Bodies could all agree on, it was our fear that Violet would not survive her coming death in her attempt to become a ghost.

As I thought over my options and the strange life that now became my new normal, I stopped paying attention to my feet and ended up walking straight into a hulking body that formed a thick, sturdy wall between me and my destination.

"Oh, p-pardon me," I muttered, a tremble rattling my words as I prayed the person I just assaulted was one of the few in town who were of the human-loving variety. "I-I d-didn't..." I paused, my shiver settling and my fear taut muscles easing. With us so close, it was easy to pick up the man's unique scent. He always wore a woodsy smell of wet timber and delicate dew, that I suspected he gained during his races through the forest in the early morning hours. Then, there was the sharp nuttiness of coffee and the sweet delectable hints of powdered sugar and vanilla, which were often associated with the Brew and Stew. A werewolf with a love of breakfast — Sheriff Everett Hathaway.

"No need to apologize," he said, his large, rough hands taking hold of my shoulders, steadying me. However, the weight of his touch caused another, more pleasant quiver to zip along my skin. "I'm sure you have a lot on your mind with this job hunt of yours."