SHIVER: 13 Sexy Tales of Humor and Horror (72 page)

“It’s my Sid!” Gladys insisted.

“How do you know?” Edna shot back. She wasn’t going to let Mr. Marley off the hook just because he died in 1905.

“Because she said that the spirit wanted justice and he was disturbed!” Gladys seethed. A Spirit Hunter approached her with his Light Bright and she swung at him with her purse.

“I think this one might be a demon,” the Spirit Hunter said, ducking just in time.

“You’re just figuring that out now?” Irv Peterman asked.

“Enough of this!” Judge Epstein shouted, banging her gavel so hard that she broke it. “Everybody shut up!” There was silence as we all waited expectantly. “You, in the shit shirt, you first. What’s going on in here?” She glared at Bert malevolently.

He cleared his throat and launched into his explanation. “Well, Judge, my partner Ernie went to retrieve some equipment and seems to have gone missing. Our equipment is indicating that there is paranormal activity going on in this room at the moment.”

“Okay, and you, dressed in the rummage sale, Ms. Crowley, what’s your problem?” she asked Delores.

“I’m hearing voices from beyond demanding justice and I’m prepared to perform an exorcism … for a reasonable fee.”

“Uh huh. And you, Mrs. Peterman, you think this is your husband.”

“It’s because the narcoleptic violated him!”

“But you, Ms. Manson, think it’s a different ghost?”

“Yeah, I think it’s a guy named Marley, who died in 1905. He’s charged with trespassing, and if he doesn’t make an appearance,” she shouted at nobody in particular, “I’m gonna request a bench warrant!”

“I made an appearance two hours ago,” a voice answered from the back of the room. “This place moves like a glacier.” Everyone turned to look at Mr. Marley, who had reappeared, or materialized, depending on what you believed.

“You’re Marley?” Judge Epstein asked. “And you’re not dead?”

“Yeah, I’m Marley, and I’m as alive as he is,” he said glancing over at Mr. Fisher from the INS. We all took a second to try to figure out what that meant.

“Your Honor, we straightened out that trespassing case,” the judge’s clerk said, coming in through a side door. “The 1905 case was Commonwealth vs. Morely. This is Commonwealth vs. Marley,” he said laying a file on her bench and looking up. He seemed a bit perplexed at what exactly was going on.

“So, it looks like Mr. Marley is among the living. Does the Commonwealth have an offer?” Judge Epstein asked Ms. Manson with a smile.

“Yeah, we’ll come up with something,” Edna replied, looking disappointed.

“Your Honor, I apologize for the problems with the power,” another voice announced from the back of courtroom. Once again, everyone turned to look. It was Ernie, looking sheepish.

“You were responsible for that?”

“Uh, yeah,” he shuffled his feet. “I got a little carried away with the EMF meter. Wound up causing an electrical surge so powerful I knocked myself out for a few. All better now, though.”

“So, nobody is missing. Nobody is dead. And there’s an explanation for why the lights went out and the air conditioner went wild.” She tossed her broken gavel down on her bench.

“I still think there’s paranormal activity here,” Ernie answered.

“Me too!” Delores agreed. The two of them gazed at each other and you almost hear the violins and see the little cherubs floating above their heads.

“I still think it’s Sid,” Gladys grumbled.

“Somebody get her out of here so we can wrap this nightmare session up,” Judge Epstein grumbled back and a deputy escorted Gladys out of the courtroom. Braden went off to negotiate a plea bargain, for the very much alive, Mr. Marley, and I went over to talk to Mr. Fisher, Ms. Brooks and Mr. Brenner.

“We’ve determined that you’re correct, and Mr. Smith is not actually in the country illegally,” Mr. Fisher informed us.

“There are some people from Mental Health who are coming to pick him up,” Ms. Brooks added. “It seems that our work here is done.”

“Thanks.” I smiled. The two federal employees gathered their things and left.

“Happy Halloween, Mrs. Pierce,” Mr. Brenner said, turning to leave.

“Happy Halloween!” I called after him.

A half an hour later, Braden and I finally walked wearily out of the front doors of the criminal courts building and headed for our car. It was too late for Jess’s party, but we were exhausted anyway.

“So, that was definitely an interesting experience,” I said to my husband.

“Yeah, no more Night Court.” He stopped walking and stood staring at something in the sky. I followed his gaze.

“What is that?” I asked, puzzled by the cigar-shaped object with the blinking lights. Suddenly, with what looked like a burst of energy, it disappeared.

“It’s gone. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“You don’t suppose …” The two of us looked at each other.

“Nah, couldn’t be,” he answered and we walked on hand in hand. We had bigger things to think about anyway, like the baby we were planning to make.

The End

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About The Author

N.M. Silber is an attorney, turned full-time author, who survived the Philadelphia criminal court system, largely by having a sarcastic sense of humor. She used her experiences there as a starting place to build her humorous cast of characters and sexy story lines, and she uses her knowledge of legal practice, courtroom procedure, and how lawyers really think, in every one of her novels.

She has been a
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Bestselling author and #1 Bestselling author in Romantic Comedy on Amazon. She was voted an Amazon Reader's Choice Best New Author for 2013, and has been ranked as a Top 100 author there overall.  She has stated that her goal is to write books that make readers laugh, blush, swoon, and genuinely feel good.

She is represented by Kimberly Brower of
Rebecca Friedman Literary Agency
.

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Even the big bad wolf can fall in love

This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s rights.  Purchase only authorized editions.

Copyright Crystal W. Wilson 2014

“
You’re not wearing
that.”

I glanced in the full-length mirror in front of me, my eyes locking onto my friend Donna’s intense stare.  “What?”

As though I were a slightly addled nitwit, she stared at me, unblinking, and repeated slowly.  “You. Are. Not. Wearing. That.”

I smoothed my hands down the snug bustier that caged my torso in leather and boning.  It lifted my already impressive assets to new heights and made me question how corsets ever fell out of fashion to begin with.  Then I tried to take a deep breath and understood.  No wonder women suffered
vapors
back in the day, they probably passed out due to oxygen deprivation.

“I’m not sure who exactly you
think
you are, Donna, but, newsflash, you’re not my mother and I can wear whatever in the hell I want,” I murmured.

“What?”

I turned my head and glared at her over my shoulder.  “You heard me.”

She threw her hands up and fell back on the bed.  “Fine.  Fine!  Just don’t come whining to me when one of the werewolves actually does hump your leg like a dog.  Those guys can’t control themselves, especially around boobs.  I swear their brains must be more canine than human.”

I rolled my eyes.  I’d met several werewolves since the day that they helped rescue my friends and me from the clutches of evil vampires.  I know, it sounds like a bad movie script, but those fuckers planned to chop us up and send us back to Donna and Conner piece by piece.  It didn’t seem much like a B movie at the time.

Anyway, all the werewolves I’d met were great.  Sure, they were usually a little more aggressive than the average guy, but, if I was being completely honest, it gave me a tingle in all my naughty places.

“Donna, just shut up and tell me if I look wenchy enough,” I said, turning around with my arms held out.

Under my leather bustier, I wore a sheer white shirt with billowing sleeves, tight breeches, and knee high boots.  My hair was styled in a wild tangle of curls.  All I needed now was my low-riding leather belt that held a scabbard for my cutlass.  I was supposed to be a pirate wench, a la
Cutthroat Island
.  I loved Geena Davis’ character in that movie.  I also liked the saucy feeling the outfit gave me.

Donna looked me over, sighed, and rolled to her feet.  “If you looked any more wenchy, I’d have to lock you up to keep you out of trouble.”  Face serious, she walked over to me and rested her hands on my shoulders.  “Look, I want you to have fun tonight, but you need to be careful who you flirt with.  Everyone that was invited tonight is a friend and will be nice to you, but the dynamic among the species is different here.  Flirtation can be misconstrued.”  She paused.  “Also, I’m serious, watch out for the wolves.  They will literally screw anything that moves.  I’ve seen them hook up with two, three, even four women at these parties.”

I nodded.  I wasn’t here to flirt.  Okay, maybe a little.  I honestly wasn’t interested in dating a werewolf because their attitude toward monogamy sounded a little too much like my dad’s and my ex’s, but I wasn’t averse to a mild, casual flirtation with a vampire.  Maybe even a kiss or two that would make me weak in the knees.  Even though I was twenty-eight, I wasn’t exactly ready to settle down, especially with someone who’s dick was like a divining rod for easy pussy.

“I understand,” I said.  “Don’t hook up with werewolves.  I’ll write that on my hand so I don’t forget, Mama Donna.  Hey, that rhymes!”

Donna ignored the comment and studied me closely, the expression on her face skeptical.

“I understand!” I repeated.

She shook her head and replied, “Just call my name when things go wrong and I’ll ride to the rescue.”

I glared at her, not appreciating her lack of faith in me, even if she did have a point.  “Whatever.”

I was saved from further conversation by the peal of the doorbell.  Donna released me and headed out of the bedroom.  Before she walked out the door, she turned and pointed a finger at me.  “Best behavior, got it?”