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  "Very peculiar," Peter agreed, glaring after her retreating figure. "And whatever Aisha's up to, I guarantee you it's no good."

  "I didn't realize you had a serious girlfriend before," I said.

  "We weren't that serious," Jack protested. "Really. I mean, that's what makes this so odd. We were both just lonely and bored, and we hung out for a while. She did want to get more serious, and that's when I ended things."

  "She was a gold digger," Peter amended. "She wanted a ring, so she could get Ezra's money."

  Jack rubbed his temple and looked down at me. "Sorry about all that. You're not mad, are you?"

  "No, of course not," I assured him. "Why would I be? You didn't invite her, and you dated her a long time ago, before me. It's all in the past."

  "Good." He kissed my temple. "Because you've got nothing to worry about. You're all I want, for the rest of my life."

  WHEN THE RECEPTION FINALLY CAME to an end several hours later, we all headed back to our respective beds. I tumbled into my blankets feeling exhausted and delirious and giddy and agitated, all at once. It had been a long, strange, mostly wonderful day, and I was happy to curl up in Jack's arms and fall asleep.

  We all slept in late - though, honestly not as late as I would've preferred - before Mae and my mom came over to watch Milo and Bobby open wedding gifts. I thought about staying behind with them, but Jack was going to give Ezra, Leif, and Peter a tour of the city, and more specifically, his comic book shop, so I decided to tag along.

  The five us strolled along the Kloveniersburgwal canal, making the fifteen-minute walk from our apartment to Jack's shop. It was late on a Sunday evening, and the streets were quiet, thanks in part to the thick fog and threats of thunder rumbling in the distance. It was that same fog and overcast skies that allowed us to venture out without fear of sun-exhaustion.

  "It's quite nice here," Leif commented as he admired the architecture of the old buildings that lined the roads.

  "Yeah, we like it," Jack agreed with an easy smile.

  "Have you never been here before?" Ezra asked Leif.

  Leif shook his head. "No, I spent most of my life avoiding cities. I thought everyone would be safer that way."

  Since returning to my life, my father had shared some about his time before me, but he tended to be a man of few words. What little he had extolled had mostly involved stories of surviving in the Canadian wilderness - where he had been born and first turned into a vampire - or surviving in the Finnish wilderness after joining up with the lycans.

  "Well, we'll have to correct that," Ezra said, clapping Leif on the back. "Amsterdam has always been one of my favorite cities, and I'll be more than happy to show you all of my old haunts."

  Leif smiled - a subtle, quiet smile that reminded me of Milo's when he was younger, before he was a vampire. It was a strange thing to adjust to - my father returning after a life-long absence, and looking so young and so much like Milo that he could pass for his slightly older brother.

  "There are many fantastic things around here, sure, but you're actually about to see the very best one," Jack said as we turned down the narrow cobblestone street.

  There were a few other shops before Jack's - a bike repair, a psychic, several coffee shops, and Thai delivery. In the store front window display were two large statues of Batman and Deadpool, along with a few posters and ads for the latest sales taped to the glass.

  In the center, between Batman's glowering and Deadpool's satirical imitation, was the name painted in big bold letters:

  Ezra tilted his head with his eyebrows scrunched up in bewilderment. "That's an odd name, isn't it? I mean, this is your life's dream. It's not a waste."

  "It's a play on Fight Club," Jack tried to explain. "It's a joke." When neither Ezra or Leif seemed to get it, Jack decided to move on. "Come on. Let me show you where the magic happens."

  He opened the door with flourish, reminding me of Willy Wonka presenting his candy factory. Except, of course, instead of acres of sweets, it was a shop filled floor to ceiling with comics, graphic novels, and anything else that struck Jack's fancy.

  The front of the store was packed with all kinds of collectibles and memorabilia, from Pez dispensers to limited edition action figures, along with the latest and most popular issues and best-selling books.

  A horse-shoe counter sat in the center, also stocked with every kind of knickknack and toy someone like Jack might ever want, and that's where the cash register and the staff were posted. Beyond that were four stairs leading up to a second level with the more obscure comics and used books.

  Tonight, the assistant manager, Jeroen De Vries, was manning the shop, and he gave me the same tentative smile he did every time he saw me. He was tall and lanky with a mop of dishwater blond hair. Above his high cheekbones, his deep-set eyes seemed unable to make eye contact for more than a few seconds at a time.

  "Hey, boss." Jeroen attempted a playful grin, but it only managed to look uncertain on him. "I didn't expect you in tonight."

  "At ease, soldier," Jack said with a quick laugh. "My family is in from out of town, so I just wanted to show them the place."

  Jeroen did a faux salute and bowed slightly. "Of course. Let me know if you need me for anything or want me to help you or something."

  As Jack began showing the guys around - with Ezra and Leif listening dutifully as Jack explained every little detail of the business while Peter preferred to wander on his own, since he had been here before when he helped set the place up two years ago - I wondered, not for the first time, what Jeroen thought of us.

  He was just a normal college student who'd grown up in the Netherlands, and as far as I knew, he didn't suspect that Jack or me or any of us were anything more than ordinary American humans. Jack swore he was a hard worker, and that's all that mattered.

  But I couldn't help but think how humans perceived us as we roved the streets together. The vampire change left us all looking like the finest versions of ourselves, far more attractive than we had been in our mortal form. Ezra in particular had a poise to him that always made people stop and stare.

  I'd gone up the stairs to the second level to see if there was anything I might want to read, but the sound of Jack laughing pulled my attention back. His exuberance and pride bubbled over as he ran about the store, showing Ezra and Leif - and Peter, when he caught his eye - all his favorite bits.

  And then suddenly and unnervingly, I began smelling something that didn't belong here at all. Jack's shop always smelled of old books and paper and plastic. But this was... sweet. Floral.

  I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, and it hit me, like a splash of cold water in the face. It was the scent from my dreams.

  And I heard her voice, coming from inside my head, soft but forceful, "Time is running out, Alice."

  Peter called my name, drawing me from my thoughts - if they were even my thoughts. It felt more like a hallucination. I opened my eyes and saw him standing below me, unease filling his eyes.

  "Alice?" he repeated. "Is everything alright?"

  I shook my head, not wanting to explain that my dreams had begun invading my reality. "Yeah, I'm fine."

  "Are you sure?" Peter asked. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

  "Don't be silly. Jack's comic book shop isn't haunted." I brushed off his concern and walked over to Jack, hoping his happiness would flood over me and push away the sense of dread that hung in my stomach.

  "Now, you don't know that," Jeroen chimed in, looking up from the hefty copy of a The Sandman omnibus he'd been reading. He rested his hand on his chin, but his eyes were wide and grave. "My Nan always said that the ghosts spoke to her, and Amsterdam is a very old city, with more than its fair share of the dead lingering about."

  Jack looped an arm around my shoulders, and I leaned into him. "So, you're saying that it wouldn't be unreasonable to list the comic book shop on a haunted tour website?"

  Jeroen shook his head. "It may be haunted here, but you should never make m
oney off the dead. Not unless you want them angry with you, and that's never done anyone any good."

  BY THE TIME WE LEFT the shop, the sky had darkened significantly, even though true sunset was still a few hours away. The fog felt heavy and thick, but the rain held off as thunder rumbled closer.

  Ezra decided to take Leif to a museum and old vampire bar he used to enjoy, with Peter following along for old time's sake. I didn't feel much like sightseeing, so Jack and I parted ways with them. As we walked off, heading in the opposite direction of them, Jack held my hand and slowed his footsteps.

  "So..." he began. "What did spook you back there?"

  I shrugged. "Nothing really."

  "Alice." He stopped walking, still holding onto my hand, so I turned back to face him.

  "It's silly," I insisted.

  "I'm a silly kinda guy. I think I can handle it."

  "It was just that dream."

  "The one with the flowers and the weird woman?"

  "Sorta."

  His brow creased with confusion and worry. "But you were awake. You can't have a dream when you're awake."

  "No, it wasn't a dream. It was just...'' I gestured my hand around, trying to think of how to explain it exactly. "It was just a voice and a smell."

  Jack seemed to consider this before finally saying, "Maybe Jeroen was right. Maybe the store is haunted."

  I rolled my eyes. "Jack. Be serious."

  "No, I am serious," he persisted. "Why not?"

  "Well, for starters, there's no such things as ghosts."

  "How can you say that? Just because you've never seen one?" He arched his eyebrow. "You're a vampire, Alice. How can you rule out anything else that's supernatural?"

  "Fine," I relented. "But I'd been having the dreams before your shop, so that's probably not haunted."

  "Maybe you're haunted then."

  As if to punctuate the statement, a bolt of lightning shot across the sky, sending a clap of thunder reverberating through everything. Once it passed, I did my best to not look rattled by it.

  "How can a person be haunted?" I asked, clinging to my skepticism and reason. "That doesn't even make any sense."

  "A ghost just decided to follow you around. How else would you define that, other than haunted?"

  "We don't know that it's a ghost. It's probably just stress or indigestion or something," I argued, and now it was Jack's turn to roll his eyes. "And even if it is, we don't know that's it following me around, or even why it would be."

  "You're right," he agreed. "So we should consult an expert."

  I narrowed my eyes at him. "What are you talking about?"

  Instead of answering me, Jack turned and started leading me away. But before we'd even reached it, I could see the neon pink sign through the fog, shaped like an eye. It was only a few stores down from Jack's place, sandwiched between a yoga studio and a Thai restaurant that smelled of garlic and lemongrass.

  "I don't know about this," I said when he'd stopped underneath a sign that read Jessamine's Psychic Readings.

  "What'll it hurt to just go in and talk to her?" Jack asked. "Maybe she doesn't know anything. Maybe she's a fraud or maybe none of this real. You're out a couple bucks and a few minutes. But what if she does know something that can help?"

  "Even if you're right, and it is a ghost, and I am haunted, as ridiculous as that all sounds, so what?" I asked. "It's not hurting me at all."

  His blue eyes grew somber. "Not yet."

  "All right," I said finally. "If this will make you feel better, let's do it."

  The bell of the door chimed when we stepped inside the narrow storefront. Some of the pungent scent from the Thai place permeated the walls, but a haze of incense and cloves managed to drive most of it away. Tapestries were hung about, mostly of the tie-dye and mandala variety.

  At the back of the store was a glass case filled with gems and various trinkets. But before that were two small round tables, draped in layers of silk cloths with cards, stones, and candles sitting on top.

  There was no staff in sight, and I was just about to suggest to Jack that we leave when a woman pushed through the beaded curtain in the back. I don't know what exactly I had expected from a psychic, but she wasn't it.

  For starters, she appeared young and beautiful, maybe only twenty-one or so, and she had a total plus-size pinup vibe to her. Her clothes were very 1950s vixen, clinging to her ample curves, and her lavender-colored hair was piled on her head in neat curls. Tattoos covered her exposed arms, and she smiled radiantly at us through her cherry red lipstick.

  "Can I help you two today?" she asked with an accent that shocked me. It was a subtle New England one, like she had grown up in Maine. Amsterdam was full of people from all over the world, with all sorts of accents, but I never stopped being surprised when I met other people from the States.

  "My girl - er, my fiancee and I were just looking for a reading," Jack explained.

  "You came to the right place then. I'm Jessamine, psychic extraordinaire," she announced with a delightful laugh as she gestured broadly to the small shop around her.

  "I'm Jack." He motioned to himself, then to me. "And this is Alice."

  "It's nice to meet you both," Jessamine said as she approached us. "What can I help you with today?" Jack and I exchanged an uneasy look, so she supplied, "Most people that come in are looking for relationship advice or help with money."

  "We're actually good on both accounts," I said with a nervous laugh.

  "That's wonderful," she said, sounding like she meant it, and then she pulled back a chair at one of the small tables. "Why don't we have a seat and talk about what I can do for you today?"

  Jack sat down first and plunged ahead. "There's just been some strange things happening lately, and we wanted to get a read on it."

  "With you?" Jessamine asked.

  He pointed to me, seated beside him. "With her but she's a bit of a skeptic."

  "It's okay. We all are until we see it work." Jessamine winked at me then, and there was something so affectionate and warm about her, that I couldn't help but like her despite myself.

  "I'm not a skeptic, exactly," I explained carefully. "I'm just not sure if a psychic is the right person to help, or if I even need help."

  "How about this? We can do a couple's reading," Jessamine suggested. "And I'll start with him, so we can kind of ease you into it. Maybe I can help you, maybe you're right and you don't need it. But hopefully, either way, you can walk away with a fun experience."

  I smiled. "That sounds perfect."

  "Is there anything in particular you want help with or advice you need?" she asked, turning her attention fully on Jack.

  He shrugged. "Not really. Anything you can tell me about my future is always good to know, though, I think."

  "I can do that," Jessamine replied cheerily. "I like to start with palm readings. I feel like it gives me a better sense of you and what you need. Can you lay your hand out flat for me, palm up?"

  Jack did as he was told. Jessamine reached out to touch him, her long fingers hovering just above his for a moment, and she moved her fingers in the air, as if summoning spirits or auras or something magical in the air.

  The second she touched him, she recoiled back instantly. It was almost as if she'd gotten shocked, like when I'd unwittingly touched an electric fence as a child. She stared down at the table, blinking a few times, and licked her lips.

  "Is everything okay?" I asked, glancing nervously at Jack.

  Her hands hovered just above his, and it was another second or two before she nodded. "Can I see your hand, Alice?"

  I suspected that her reaction to Jack had to do with his vampiric status, but maybe it was something as simple as static electricity or she was putting on a show. Either way, it seemed stranger to just get up and walk out of there then to let her read my palm for a second.

  "Sure," I said finally and held my hand out toward her, the same way that Jack had.

  Jessamine took a deep breath, and
when she touched me, she didn't recoil at all. I could feel her pulse, flushing hotly through her soft skin, and she let her long dark blue nails caress the palm of my hand.

  "Okay. Thank you." She flashed me a smile that was meant to look reassuring but only managed to convey how queasy she truly felt. Then she turned back to Jack. "Let me try your hand again."

  "What happened?" Jack asked.

  Jessamine let out a nervous laugh. "Honestly, I'm not really sure. I'm trying to figure that out myself."

  "But you're okay?" Jack pressed, still keeping his hand back from her.

  "I'm okay." She held out her hand for him. "Shall we have a go again?"

  Reluctantly, he extended her hand toward his. The scenario repeated itself, with her moving her hands around in the air, and then she held her breath as she touched him. Jessamine visibly flinched, as if it pained her to press her skin against his, but she didn't let go.

  In fact, she gripped onto his hand, closing her eyes as she did. Her full lips pulled back, almost becoming a snarl as she gritted her teeth.

  Outside the store, lightning crashed, causing a brilliant white light to flood the room, followed by thunder so loud that the windows of her storefront began to shake.

  As soon as the thunder finished - it's echoing booms retreating away from us - Jessamine let go and pushed back her chair from the table. She remained seated, so she just needed to put some distance between herself and Jack.

  At first, she said nothing. She just breathed deeply and stared down at the table. When she finally looked up at Jack, her face had gone ashen, and her brown eyes were filled with a mixture of confusion.

  "I don't know how else to say this to you, so... I'll just say it." She took another fortifying breath. "All my senses are telling me that... you're dead."

  "IS THIS SOME SORT OF weird joke?" I asked with a flat laugh.

  Jack sat beside me, staring at Jessamine with a look of bewilderment, and I felt his anxiety rolling off him in waves. He was unnerved, bordering on frightened, but I tried to push it aside, quelling the panic and trying to let calm logic override it.

  "I think it's all just a misunderstanding," I said reasonably.

  At this point, I'd begun to assume that either Jessamine was playing a game with us - admittedly one that I didn't understand. Or she did have some kind of psychic ability, and she'd tuned into our technically undead nature.